time, and then I fell into a train of thought, which is
usually the result of reading Young's "Night Thoughts."

"Young! I can not bear that author. He is so gloomy."

"But you are fortunately so happy, that the lamentations of the lonely
mourner can find no echo in your breast."

"You think so!" said D'Effernay, in a churlish tone, and he pressed his
lips together tightly, as Emily came into the room: he went to meet
her.

"You have been a long time away," was his observation, as he looked into
her eyes, where the trace of tears might easily be detected. "I found
our guest alone."

"M. de Wensleben was good enough to excuse me," she replied, "and then I
thought you would be back immediately."

They sat down to the table; coffee was brought, and the past appeared to
be forgotten.

The conversation at first was broken by constant pauses. Edward saw that
Emily did all she could to play the hostess agreeably, and to pacify her
husband's ill humor.

In this attempt the young man assisted her, and at last they were
successful. D'Effernay became more cheerful; the conversation more
animated; and Edward found that his host could be a very agreeable
member of society when he pleased, combining a good deal of information
with great natural powers. The evening passed away more pleasantly than
it promised at one time; and after an excellent and well-served supper,
the young officer was shown into a comfortable room, fitted up with
every modern luxury; and weary in mind and body, he soon fell asleep. He
dreamed of all that had occupied his waking thoughts--of his friend, and
his friend's history.

But in that species of confusion which often characterizes dreams, he
fancied that he was Ferdinand, or at least, his own individuality seemed
mixed up with that of Hallberg. He felt that he was ill. He lay in an
unknown room, and by his bedside stood a small table, covered with
glasses and phials, containing medicine, as is usual in a sick room.

The door opened, and D'Effernay came in, in his dressing-gown, as if he
had just left his bed: and now in Edward's mind dreams and realities
were mingled together, and he thought that D'Effernay came, perhaps, to
speak with him on the occurrences of the preceding day. But no! he
approached the table on which the medicines stood, looked at the watch,
took up one of the phials and a cup, measured the draught, drop by drop,
then he turned and looked round him stealthily, and then he dre