Thora; and, the
first moment I saw you, I felt you were the only created thing which
could revive my torpid soul; and, you, I could have fallen down and
worshipped.'"

"'Do not, do not speak so, Englebert,'" she said; and, taking my hand in
hers, folded it warmly to her heart. I thought, as she lifted her eyes
fondly to my face, I observed a tear trickling down her cheek; and the
quick movement of her heart, against which my hand was still clasped,
told of all that was contending there."

The old man ceased for a few minutes, and the tears began to course each
other down his face. He then said:

"It may seem strange to you, sir, that one, so old as I am, can feel so
deeply and so long; but, though of a quiet temperament, I was prone in
my youth to be acutely sensible of pain or joy, however much I concealed
my emotions. I remember, when I was a mere child, my mother's chiding
would grieve me for many days together, and I used to hear her wondering
what the cause of my grief could be. She was wont then, sometimes, to
call me sulky. How, sir, the characters of children are misunderstood,
and how the heart, at that tender time, is trifled with, to bring
remorse in after life;--but, sir, to my story.

"In the summer of 1758 a French vessel arrived at Gottenborg, and on
board were several young Frenchmen possessing many worldly advantages,
and much personal grace. One, in particular, was remarkable for the
liveliness of his disposition, and beauty of form. His name was Adolphe
de Lacroix.

"By accident Adolphe saw Thora; and hers was a countenance which could
not be looked on with apathy. De Lacroix saw and loved, or fancied that
he loved. It would be useless, sir, to occupy your time, and increase my
own pain, by relating with the garrulity of old age all that happened
after the arrival of M. de Lacroix; but it is sufficient to tell you,
that, he sought the affections of Thora, gained them, and married her."

The speaker stopped in his narrative, and, taking from his pocket a
small packet of three letters, selected one from it, and, with tears
still rolling down his cheek, showed it to me.

"In this letter, Thora," he said, "told me of her marriage. I read it
then, but I have never read it since."

Observing me cast a glance at the other two letters,

"And these two," he continued, "brought the intelligence of my father's
and mother's deaths. I keep them all together."

When I had read, or attempted to read, Th