he house. She was still lingering to admire
them, when the Count de ---- was announced, through the negligence of a
servant, who had been ordered not to admit any visitors. It was too late
to retire, unobserved; and the usual greetings of civility were scarcely
exchanged, when De Courcy abruptly entered the room. He started, on
seeing his wife, who had so recently refused his request, on the plea of
illness, apparently well, and taking advantage of his absence, to admit
his supposed rival to an interview. Pale with emotion, he stood a
moment, as if rooted to the spot; his eye, which flashed with scorn and
anger, fixed alternately on each; then deliberately turned, and left the
house. The Count had met his gaze unmoved, and with an expression of
calm contempt; your mother, terrified by the storm of passion which his
countenance betrayed, fled precipitately to her own apartment. Ill as
she was, however, and trembling with apprehension, she exerted herself
to appear at dinner, hoping that the true explanation would appease her
husband's irritation. But he met her with a gloomy reserve, which
destroyed all hope of confidence; he did not allude to what had passed;
every trace of passion was gone, and she felt re-assured by a deceitful
calm, that only concealed the inward struggle.

"De Courcy left the house by day-light on the following morning; no one
knew whither he was gone, but we had heard him traverse his apartment
through the night, and were confident he had taken no repose. A few
hours of anxious suspense passed away, and your mother had just risen
from her sleepless pillow, when he suddenly entered her dressing-room. I
was alone with her, and never shall I forget the impression his
appearance made on me. His dress was disordered, his countenance pale
and haggard, and every feature marked with the deepest anguish. Your
mother rose with a faint exclamation, but instantly sunk again upon her
seat. He approached her, and took her hands, even with gentleness,
between his own, though every limb trembled with agitation.

"Lucie," he said, with unnatural calmness, and fixing his troubled eye
on her face; "I come to bid you a long,--long farewell!"

"What mean you, de Courcy?" she asked, with extreme alarm; "speak, I
conjure you, and relieve this torturing suspense!"

"My honor has been avenged!" he replied, with a hoarse and rapid
utterance; "and from this moment we part--forever!"

"Part! de Courcy, my husband!" she ex