d very near her Everything
brought them together--the wishes of the family, compatibility of
fortune, their relations as neighbors, and a personal sympathy. They were
both charming; they were destined for each other from infancy, and the
time fixed for their marriage was the nineteenth birthday of Elise. In
anticipation of this happy event the. Comte de Tecle rebuilt almost
entirely one wing of his castle for the exclusive use of the young pair.
Roland was continually present, superintending and urging on the work
with all the ardor of a lover.

One morning loud and alarming cries from the new wing roused all the
inhabitants of the castle; the Count burned to the spot, and found his
son stunned and bleeding in the arms of one of the workmen. He had fallen
from a high scaffolding to the pavement. For several months the
unfortunate young man hovered between life and death; but in the
paroxysms of fever he never ceased calling for his cousin--his betrothed;
and they were obliged to admit the young girl to his bedside. Slowly he
recovered, but was ever after disfigured and lame; and the first time
they allowed him to look in a glass he had a fainting-fit that proved
almost fatal.

But he was a youth of high principle and true courage. On recovering from
his swoon he wept a flood of bitter tears, which would not, however, wash
the scars from his disfigured face. He prayed long and earnestly; then
shut himself up with his father. Each wrote a letter, the one to M. des
Rameures, the other to Elise. M. des Rameures and his niece were then in
Germany. The excitement and fatigue consequent upon nursing her cousin
had so broken her health that the physicians urged a trial of the baths
of Ems. There she received these letters; they released her from her
engagement and gave her absolute liberty.

Roland and his father implored her not to return in haste; explained that
their intention was to leave the country in a few weeks' time and
establish themselves at Paris; and added that they expected no answer,
and that their resolution--impelled by simple justice to her--was
irrevocable.

Their wishes were complied with. No answer came.

Roland, his sacrifice once made, seemed calm and resigned; but he fell
into a sort of languor, which made fearful progress and hinted at a
speedy and fatal termination, for which in fact he seemed to long. One
evening they had taken him to the lime-tree terrace at the foot of the
garden. He gazed wit