which was neither joy nor sorrow but seemed to acquire its power and
mastery by the mingling of these opposite sentiments.

Monsieur De Vlierbeck's expression was the first to change. His features
became severe as he bent his head downward reproachfully. In truth, the
strange words that started the tears into his daughter's eyes had
excited the reflection in his own mind that another person was, perhaps,
about to share his Lenora's love and probably to separate him from her
forever. He was ready for every sacrifice, were it even infinitely
greater, provided it contributed to the happiness of his child; yet the
very idea of separation caused his heart to bleed at every pore. By
degrees he stifled this selfish anxiety, and, striving to control
himself, raised his daughter with a kiss.

"Come, Lenora," said he, "be gay again! Isn't it a happy thing that our
hearts can sometimes get into the shade after they have been too much in
the sunshine? Let us go into the house. We have many arrangements to
make in order to receive our guests becomingly."

Lenora obeyed her father in silence, and followed him slowly, while the
tears still dropped from her beautiful eyes.

Some hours afterward Monsieur De Vlierbeck might have been seen seated
in the principal saloon of Grinselhof, near a little lamp, with his
elbows on the table. The apartment was dark and dreary, for the feeble
rushlight illuminated but a single spot and cast the distant and lofty
ceiling into vague obscurity. The flickering flame threw long and sombre
shadows over the wall, while a line of old portraits in the panels
seemed to fix their stern and immovable eyes on the table. Amid the
gloom nothing came out with distinctness but the calm and noble face of