e in an uproar and every one was hastening to make
resistance against the rebels, who appeared more dangerous than ever.

CHAPTER VII.

Some days had elapsed and the Counsellor of Parliament had not seen his
son. Franz, the old domestic, had in the mean while set out on a
journey, and Joseph, as well as the female servants had not ventured to
disturb Edmond. The father was deeply concerned, for his son had never
before so pointedly avoided him. His grief lay principally in the
feeling, that he could not simply take the shortest and most natural
way, with all a father's authority, to force an entrance into his room,
which was always locked, and to question him about his condition. He
learned from Joseph, that his son always locked himself in, that he was
heard to sigh, nay, to weep, and that at night he would steal out to
wander about on the mountains, and then would as secretly return in the
morning, and avoid every body, in order to go and shut himself up again
as before. He seemed also to observe a rigid fast, for he took no food
and sent away every thing that was offered to him. "I no longer
understand him," said the old man to himself, as he was left once more
alone; "his high-wrought feelings destroy him, and I, his father, must
see him go to ruin without being able to do anything to save him. At
length the dark spirits are roused, that I have so long heard in their
slumbers; they have now assuredly taken possession of his soul."

It was late, and the night was still and dark; he dismissed the
servants, in order to be able to converse uninterruptedly with his son,
for it appeared to him an indispensable duty to make himself acquainted
with his condition, the uncertainty of which weighed more painfully on
his heart than the conviction of an actual misfortune would have done.
He took therefore the master-key, in order to ascend the great
staircase, when he heard the door of his son's room opened; he stood
still, and a ghastly pale figure in a dusky green coarse doublet,
descended towards him, his gun was slung over his shoulder, his hair in
wild disorder, his eyes dim, "Oh heaven!" exclaimed the father, "I
think I see a spirit, and it is you my son!"--He tottered, and
trembling was compelled to sit down on the stairs. "Is it you in
reality?"--"It is myself," answered Edmond in a hollow voice. "How?"
said the old man, "thus, in this figure? thus ill? in this dress? you
look thou