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.

Edward could not but think there was something almost unearthly in
those dark looks and that towering form.

"Where is my wife?" was D'Effernay's first question.

"She is gone to fulfill some household duty," replied the other.

"And leaves you here alone in this miserable darkness! Most
extraordinary!--indeed, most unaccountable!" and as he spoke he
approached the table and snuffed the candles, with a movement of
impatience.

"She left me here with old friends," said Edward, with a forced smile.
"I have been reading."

"What, in the dark?" inquired D'Effernay, with a look of mistrust.
"It was so dark when I came in, that you could not possibly have
distinguished a letter."

"I read for some time, and then I fell into a train of thought, which
is usually the result of reading Young's 'Night Thoughts.'"

"Young! I cannot bear that author. He is so gloomy."

"But you are fortunately so happy, that the lamentations of the lonely
mourner can find no echo in your breast."

"You think so!" said D'Effernay, in a churlish tone, and he pressed
his lips together tightly, as Emily came into the room: he went to
meet her.

"You have been a long time away," was his observation, as he looked
into her eyes, where the trace of tears might easily be detected. "I
found our guest alone."

"M. de Wensleben was good enough to excuse me," she replied; "and then
I thought you would be back immediately."

They sat down to the table; coffee was brought, and the past appeared
to be forgotten.

The conversation at first was broken by constant pauses. Edward saw
that Emily did all she could to play the hostess agreeably, and to
pacify her husband's ill-humor.

In this attempt the young man assisted her