desirous to speak. A momentary cloud gathered on
D'Effernay's brow, yet it seemed no more than his usual expression
of vexation at any delay or hindrance; and he was so anxious to
propitiate his rich visitor, who appeared likely to take the estate
off his hands, that he complied with all possible courtesy. The
coachman was directed to turn down a by-road, and a very bad one it
was. The captain stood up in the carriage and pointed out the village
to him, at some distance off; it lay in a deep ravine at the foot of
the mountains.

They arrived in the course of time, and inquired for the clergyman's
house, which, as well as the church, was situated on rising ground.
The three companions alighted from the carriage, which they left at
the bottom of the hill, and walked up together in the direction of the
rectory. Edward knocked at the door and was admitted, while the two
others sat on a bench outside. He had promised to return speedily,
but to D'Effernay's restless spirit, one-quarter of an hour appeared
interminable.

He turned to the captain and said, in a tone of impatience, "M. de
Wensleben must have a great deal of business with the rector: we have
been here an immense time, and he does not seem inclined to make his
appearance.

"Oh, I dare say he will come soon. The matter cannot detain him long."

"What on earth can he have to do here?"

"Perhaps you would call it a mere fancy--the enthusiasm of youth."

"It has a name, I suppose?"

"Certainly, but--"

"Is it sufficiently important, think you, to make us run the risk of
being benighted on such roads as these?"

"Why, it is quite early in the day."

"But we have more than two leagues to go. Why will you not
speak?--there cannot any great mystery."

"Well, perhaps not a mystery, exactly, but just one of those subjects
on which we are usually reserved with others."

"So! so!" rejoined D'Effernay, with a little sneer. "Some love affair;
some girl or another who pursues him, that he wants to get rid of."

"Nothing of the kind, I can assure you," replied the captain drily.
"It could scarcely be more innocent. He wishes, in fact, to visit his
friend's grave."

The listener's expression was one of scorn and anger. "It is worth the
trouble certainly," he exclaimed, with a mocking laugh. "A charming
sentimental pilgrimage, truly; and pray who is this beloved
friend, over whose resting-place he must shed a tear and plant a
forget-me-not? He told me he had neve