silent: at length Emily started up--

"Forgive me, M. de Wensleben. What you have related to me, what you
have asked of me, has produced so much excitement, so much agitation,
that it is necessary that I should be alone for a few moments, to
recover my composure."

"I am gone," cried Edward, springing from his chair.

"No! no!" she replied, "you are my guest; remain here. I have a
household duty which calls me away." She laid a stress on these words.

She leant forward, and with a sad, sweet smile, she gave her hand to
the friend of her lost Ferdinand, pressing his gently, and disappeared
through the inner door.

Edward stood stunned, bewildered; then he paced the room with hasty
steps, threw himself on the sofa, and took up one of the books that
lay on the table, rather to have something in his hand, than to read.
It proved to be Young's "Night Thoughts." He looked through it, and
was attracted by many passages, which seemed, in his present frame
of mind, fraught with peculiar meaning; yet his thoughts wandered
constantly from the page to his dead friend. The candles, unheeded
both by Emily and him, burned on with long wicks, giving little light
in the silent room, over which the red glare from the hearth shed a
lurid glow. Hurried footsteps sounded in the anteroom; the door was
thrown open.

Edward looked up, and saw D'Effernay staring at him, and round the
room, in an angry, restless manner.