ality:--

"I am tired and need repose, for I feel somewhat overcome by the sad
news you have given me. May God help you in your efforts to fulfil your
promises! My gratitude will surpass all you can imagine. Farewell till
to-morrow!"

CHAPTER X.

Spring, gentle spring, had thrown aside the funeral garb of winter, and
earth awoke again to vigorous life. Grinselhof reappeared in all the
splendor of its wild, natural scenery; its majestic oaks displayed
their verdant domes, its roses bloomed as sweetly as of old,
elder-blossoms filled the air with delicious odor, butterflies fluttered
through the garden, and every thicket was vocal with the song of birds.

Nothing seemed changed at Grinselhof: its roads, its paths, were still
deserted, and sad was the silence that reigned in its shadows. Yet
immediately around the house there was more life and movement than
formerly. At the coach-house two grooms were busy washing and polishing
a new and fashionable coach; while the neigh of horses resounded from
the stable. A trim waiting-maid stood on the door-sill laughing and
joking with the lackeys, and a respectable old butler looked knowingly
on the group.

Suddenly the clear silvery ring of a bell was heard from the parlor, and
the waiting-maid ran in, exclaiming, "Good Heavens! there's Monsieur
ringing for his breakfast, and it is not ready yet!"

A few moments afterward she was seen mounting the staircase with a rich
silver salver covered with breakfast-things; and, entering the parlor,
she placed them silently on a table before a young gentleman who seemed
entirely absorbed by his own thoughts, and then instantly left the room
without a word.

The young man began his meal with a careless, indifferent air, as if he
either had no appetite or did not know what he was about. The furniture
of the apartment in which he sat presented odd and striking contrasts
to an observer. While some of the articles were remarkable for the
richness and elegance of their modern style, there were chairs, tables,
and cabinets whose sombre hue and elaborate carving denoted an antiquity
of several centuries. On the walls were numerous pictures, dimmed by
smoke and time, encased in frames that had lost half their ornaments and
gilding. These were portraits of warriors, statesmen, priests, and
prelates. In the dim corners of the canvas armorial bearings of the
house of De Vlierbeck might be seen, and many of the articles of
furniture were