e began to tell Emily she was not so
complete a stranger to him as it might seem; that long before he had had
the pleasure of seeing her--even before he had heard her name--she was
known to him, so to speak, in spirit.

Madame D'Effernay was moved. She was silent for a time, and gazed
fixedly on the ground; then she looked up; the mist of unshed tears
dimmed her blue eyes, and her bosom heaved with the sigh she could not
suppress.

"To me also the name of Wensleben is familiar. There is a link between
our souls. Your friend has often spoken of you to me."

But she could say no more; tears checked her speech.

Edward's eyes were glistening also, and the two companions were silent;
at length he began once more:

"My dear lady," he said, "my time is short, and I have a solemn message
to deliver to you. Will you allow me to do so now?"

"To me?" she asked, in a tone of astonishment.

"From my departed friend," answered Edward, emphatically.

"From Ferdinand? and that now--after--" she shrunk back, as if in
terror.

"Now that he is no longer with us, do you mean? I found the message in
his papers, which have been intrusted to me only lately, since I have
been in the neighborhood. Among them was a token which I was to restore
to you." He produced the ring. Emily seized it wildly, and trembled as
she looked upon it.

"It is indeed my ring," she said at length, "the same which I gave him
when we plighted our troth in secret. You are acquainted with every
thing, I perceive; I shall therefore risk nothing if I speak openly."
She wept, and pressed the ring to her lips.

"I see that my friend's memory is dear to you," continued Edward. "You
will forgive the prayer I am about to make to you; my visit to you
concerns his ring."

"How--what is it you wish?" cried Emily, terrified.

"It was _his_ wish," replied Edward. "He evinced an earnest desire to
have this pledge of an unfortunate and unfulfilled engagement restored."

"How is that possible? You did not speak with him before his death; and
this happened so suddenly after, that, to give you the commission--"

"There was no time for it! that is true," answered Edward, with an
inward, shudder, although outwardly he was calm. "Perhaps this wish was
awakened immediately before his death. I found it, as I told you,
expressed in those papers."

"Incomprehensible!" she exclaimed. "Only a short time before his death,
we cherished--deceitful, indeed, they proved, but, oh