and conversation commenced. By the full light Edward could perceive
all Emily's real beauty--her pale, but lovely face, the sad expression
of her large blue eyes, so often concealed by their dark lashes, and
then raised, with a look full of feeling, a sad, pensive, intellectual
expression; and he admired the simplicity of her dress, and of every
object that surrounded her: all appeared to him to bespeak a superior
mind.

They had not sat long, before D'Effernay was called away. One of
his people had something important, something urgent to communicate
to him, which admitted of no delay. A look of fierce anger almost
distorted his features; in an instant his thin lips moved rapidly, and
Edward thought he muttered some curses between his teeth. He left the
room, but in so doing, he cast a glance of mistrust and ill-temper
on the handsome stranger with whom he was compelled to leave his wife
alone. Edward observed it all. All that he had seen to-day, all that
he had heard from his comrades of the man's passionate and suspicious
disposition, convinced him that his stay here would not be long, and
that perhaps a second opportunity of speaking alone with Emily might
not offer itself.

He determined, therefore, to profit by the present moment; and no
sooner had D'Effernay left the room, than he began to tell Emily she
was not so complete a stranger to him as it might seem; that long
before he had had the pleasure of seeing her--even before he had heard
her name--she was known to him, so to speak, in spirit.

Madame D'Effernay was moved. She was silent for a time, and gazed
fixedly on the ground; then she looked up; the mist of unshed tears
dimmed her blue eyes, and her bosom heaved with the sigh she could not