his head and left him to Cecily.

After the first shock, Berenger never rested till he had made Osbert,
Mr. Adderley, and Cecily tell him all they knew, and asked by name after
those whom he had known best at Paris. Alas! of all those, save such as
had been in the Ambassador's house, there was but one account to give.
Venerable warrior, noble-hearted youth, devoted pastor, all alike had
perished!

This frightful part of the story was altogether new to him. He had been
probably the earliest victim in the Louvre, as being the special object
of private malice, which had contrived to involve him in the general
catastrophe; and his own recollections carried him only to the flitting
of lights and ringing of bells, that has made him imagine that an alarm
of fire would afford a good opportunity of escape if SHE would but come.
A cloaked figure had approached,--he had held out his arms--met that
deadly stroke--heard the words hissed in his ear.

He owned that for some time past strange recollections had been flitting
though his mind--a perpetual unsatisfied longing for and expectation of
his wife, and confused impressions of scenes and people had harassed him
perpetually, even when he could not discern between dreams and reality;
but knowing that he had been very ill, he had endeavoured to account for
everything as delirious fancies, but had become increasingly distressed
by their vividness, confusion, and want of outward confirmation. At
last these solid tokens and pledges from that time had brought certainty
back, and with it the harmony and clearness of his memory: and the
strong affection, that even his oblivion had not extinguished, now
recurred in all its warmth to its object.

Four months had passed, as he now discovered, since that night when he
had hoped to have met Euctacie, and she must be believing him dead. His
first measure on the following day when he had been dressed and seated
in his chair was to send for his casket, and with his slow stiff arm
write thus:--

'Mon Coeur, My own sweetheart,--Hast thou thought me dead, and thyself
deserted? Osbert will tell thee all, and why I can scarce write. Trust
thyself to him to bring to me. I shall be whole seeing thee. Or if thou
canst not come with him, write or send me the least token by him, and I
will come and bear thee home so soon as I can put foot in stirrup. Would
that I could write all that is in my heart!

'Thy Hu