ess and comfort preponderated, while a
good deal of silver plate was spread out on the toilet-table.

Edward looked round. "A beautiful room!" he said. "Answer me one
question, baron, if you please. Did he ever sleep here?"

"Certainly," replied Friedenberg; "it was his usual room when he was
here, and he had a most curious dream in that bed, which, as he assured
us, made a great impression on him."

"And what was it?" inquired Edward, eagerly.

"He never told us, for, as you well know, he was reserved by nature; but
we gathered from some words that he let slip, that an early and sudden
death was foretold. Alas! your narrative has confirmed the truth of the
prediction."

"Wonderful! He always had a similar foreboding, and many a time has he
grieved me by alluding to it," said Edward; "yet it never made him
gloomy or discontented. He went on his way firmly and calmly, and looked
forward with joy, I might almost say, to another life."

"He was a superior man," answered the baron, "whose memory will ever be
dear to us. But now I will detain you no longer. Good-night. Here is the
bell," he showed him the cord in between the curtains; "and your servant
sleeps in the next room."

"Oh, you are too careful of me," said Edward, smiling; "I am used to
sleep by myself."

"Still," replied the baron, "every precaution should be taken. Now, once
more, good night."

He shook him by the hand, and, followed by the servant, left the room.

Thus Edward found himself alone in the large, mysterious-looking,
haunted room, where his deceased friend had so often reposed--where he
also was expected to see a vision. The awe which the place itself
inspired, combined with the sad and yet tender recollection of the
departed Ferdinand, produced a state of mental excitement which was not
favorable to his night's rest. He had already undressed with the aid of
his servant (whom he had then dismissed), and had been in bed some time,
having extinguished the candles. No sleep visited his eyelids; and the
thought recurred which had so often troubled him, why he had never
received the promised token from Ferdinand, whether his friend's spirit
were among the blest--whether his silence (so to speak) proceeded from
unwillingness or incapacity to communicate with the living. A mingled
train of reflections agitated his mind: his brain grew heated; his
pulse beat faster and faster. The castle clock tolled eleven--half past
eleven. He counted the strok