y, and
of land in general, &c.

Edward had gained materials enough for reflection; he rose soon, took
leave of the company, and gave himself up, in the solitude of his
own room, to the torrent of thought and feeling which that night's
conversation had let loose. So, then, it was true; Emily Varnier was
no fabulous being! Hallberg had loved her, his love had been returned,
but a cruel destiny had separated them. How wonderfully did all he
had heard explain the dream at the Castle, and how completely did
that supply what had remained doubtful, or had been omitted in the
officers' narrative. Emily Varnier, doubtless, possessed that ring, to
gain possession of which now seemed his bounden duty. He resolved not
to delay its fulfillment a moment, however difficult it might prove,
and he only reflected on the best manner in which he should perform
the task allotted to him. The sale of the property appeared to him a
favorable opening. The fame of his father's wealth made it probable
that the son might wish to be purchaser of a fine estate, like the one
in question. He spoke openly of such a project, made inquiries of the
old gentleman, and the captain, who seemed to him to know most about
the matter; and as his duties permitted a trip for a week or so, he
started immediately, and arrived on the second day at the place of his
destination. He stopped in the public house in the village to inquire
if the estate lay near, and whether visitors were allowed to see the
house and grounds. Mine host, who doubtless had had his directions,
sent a messenger immediately to the Castle, who returned before long,
accompanied by a chasseur, in a splendid livery, who invited the
stranger to the Castle in the name of M. D'Effernay.

This was exactly what Edward wished, and expected. Escorted by
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