was ready. A shudder passed over his frame as D'Effernay greeted him;
but he commanded himself, and they started on their expedition.

Edward spoke but little, and that only when it was necessary, and
the conversation was kept up by his two companions; he had made every
inquiry, before he set out, respecting the place of his friend's
interment, the exact situation of the tomb, the name of the village,
and its distance from the main road. On their way home, he requested
that D'Effernay would give orders to the coachman to make a round of
a mile or two as far as the village of ----, with whose rector he
was particularly desirous to speak. A momentary cloud gathered on
D'Effernay's brow, yet it seemed no more than his usual expression
of vexation at any delay or hindrance; and he was so anxious to
propitiate his rich visitor, who appeared likely to take the estate
off his hands, that he complied with all possible courtesy. The
coachman was directed to turn down a by-road, and a very bad one it
was. The captain stood up in the carriage and pointed out the village
to him, at some distance off; it lay in a deep ravine at the foot of
the mountains.

They arrived in the course of time, and inquired for the clergyman's
house, which, as well as the church, was situated on rising ground.
The three companions alighted from the carriage, which they left at
the bottom of the hill, and walked up together in the direction of the
rectory. Edward knocked at the door and was admitted, while the two
others sat on a bench outside. He had promised to return speedily,
but to D'Effernay's restless spirit, one-quarter of an hour appeared
interminable.

He turned to the captain and said, in a tone of impatience, "M. de