al
favour of fortune had brought to him the only woman in all the world
who, as a warmly beloved and deeply adored wife, was capable of
bestowing upon him the highest conceivable happiness.

The Baroness's manner of conduct underwent little alteration. She
continued to be silent, grave, much wrapped up in herself, and when
opportunity offered, evinced a gentle disposition, and a heart disposed
towards any innocent enjoyment. The Count had become accustomed to the
death-like whiteness of her face, to the very remarkable network of
wrinkles which covered it, and to the generally spectral appearance
which she displayed; but all this he set down to the invalid condition
of her health, and also, in some measure, to a disposition which she
evinced to gloomy romanticism. The servants told him that she often
went out for walks in the night-time, through the park to the
churchyard. He was much annoyed that his father's prejudices had
influenced him to the extent that they had; and the most earnest
recommendations of his uncle that he should conquer the feeling which
had taken possession of him, and give up a relationship which must
sooner or later drive him to his ruin, had no effect upon him.

In complete certainty of Aurelia's sincere affection, he asked for her
hand; and it may be imagined with what joy the Baroness received this
proposal, which transferred her into the lap of luxury from a position
of the deepest poverty. The pallor and the strange expression, which
spoke of some invincible inward pain or trouble, had disappeared from
Aurelia's face. The blissfulness of love beamed in her eyes, and
shimmered in roses on her cheeks.

On the morning of the wedding-day a terrible event shattered the
Count's hopes. The Baroness was found lying on her face dead, not far
from the churchyard: and when the Count was looking out of his window
on getting up, full of the bliss of the happiness which he had
attained, her body was being brought back to the Castle. He supposed
she was only in one of her usual attacks; but all efforts to bring her
back to life were ineffectual. She was dead. Aurelia, instead of giving
way to violent grief, seemed rather to be struck dumb and tearless by
this blow, which appeared to have a paralyzing effect on her.

The Count was much distressed for her, and only ventured--most
cautiously and most gently--to remind her that her orphaned condition
rendered it necessary that conventionalities should be di