of his wife.

"We have nothing to fear," he replied, quickly; "I heard Marie-Anne
promise to meet Maurice to-morrow in the grove on the Reche."

The anxious mother breathed more freely. Her blood had frozen with
horror at the thought that her son might, perhaps, be contemplating
suicide; but she was a mother, and her husband's assurances did not
satisfy her.

She hastily ascended the stairs leading to her son's room, softly opened
the door, and looked in. He was so engrossed in his gloomy revery that
he had heard nothing, and did not even suspect the presence of the
anxious mother who was watching over him.

He was sitting at the window, his elbows resting upon the sill, his head
supported by his hands, looking out into the night.

There was no moon, but the night was clear, and over beyond the light
fog that indicated the course of the Oiselle one could discern the
imposing mass of the Chateau de Sairmeuse, with its towers and fanciful
turrets.

More than once he had sat thus silently gazing at this chateau, which
sheltered what was dearest and most precious in all the world to him.

From his windows he could see those of the room occupied by Marie-Anne;
and his heart always quickened its throbbing when he saw them
illuminated.