the chasseur he soon arrived at the Castle, and was shown up
a spacious staircase into a modern, almost, one might say, a
magnificently-furnished room, where the master of the house received
him. It was evening, toward the end of winter, the shades of twilight
had already fallen, and Edward found himself suddenly in a room quite
illuminated with wax candles. D'Effernay stood in the middle of the
saloon, a tall, thin young man. A proud bearing seemed to bespeak
a consciousness of his own merit, or at least of his position. His
features were finely formed, but the traces of strong passion, or of
internal discontent, had lined them prematurely.

In figure he was very slender, and the deep-sunken eye, the gloomy
frown which was fixed between his brows, and the thin lips, had no
very prepossessing expression, and yet there was something imposing in
the whole appearance of the man.

Edward thanked him civilly for his invitation, spoke of his idea of
being a purchaser as a motive for his visit, and gave his own, and
his father's name. D'Effernay seemed pleased with all he said. He had
known Edward's family in the metropolis; he regretted that the late
hour would render it impossible for them to visit the property to-day,
and concluded by pressing the lieutenant to pass the night at the
Castle. On the morrow they would proceed to business, and now he would
have the pleasure of presenting his wife to the visitor. Edward's
heart beat violently--at length then he would see her! Had he loved
her himself he could not have gone to meet her with more agitation.
D'Effernay led his guest through many rooms, which were all as well
furnished, and as brilliantly lighted as the first he had entered.
At length he opened the door of a small boudoir, where there was no
light, save that which the faint, gray twilight imparted through the