ightly around, without interrupting her march, and she cast behind her
that single word, "Farewell," in a tone so gentle, so musical, so
sorrowful, that it was somewhat like the sound of a tear falling upon a
sonorous crystal.

That minute was a supreme one. It was one of those moments during which a
man's life is decided for eternal good or for eternal evil. Monsieur de
Lucan felt it so. Had he yielded to the attraction of passion, of
intoxication, of pity, that was urging him with almost irresistible force
on the footsteps of that beautiful and unhappy woman--that was on the
point of casting him at her feet, upon her heart--he felt that he became
at once and forever a lost and desperate soul. Such a crime, were it even
to remain wholly ignored, separated him forever from all he had ever
respected, all he had ever held sacred and inviolate; there was nothing
left for him either upon earth or in heaven; there was no longer any
faith, probity, honor, friend, or God! The whole moral world vanished for
him in that single instant.

He accepted her farewell, and made no reply. The white form moved away and
soon disappeared in the darkness.

The evening was spent in the home circle as usual. Julia, pale, moody, and
haughty, worked silently at her tapestry. Lucan observed that on taking
leave of her mother she was kissing her with unusual effusion.

He soon retired also. Assailed by the most formidable apprehensions, he
did not undress. Toward morning only, he threw himself all dressed upon
the bed. It was about five o'clock, and scarcely daylight as yet, when he
fancied he heard muffled steps on the carpet, in the hall and on the
stairs. He rose again at once. The windows of his room opened upon the
court. He saw Julia cross it, dressed in riding costume. She went into the
stable and came out again after a few moments. A groom brought her her
horse, and assisted her in mounting. The man, accustomed to Julia's
somewhat eccentric manners, saw apparently nothing alarming in that fancy
for an early ride. Monsieur de Lucan, after a few minutes of excited
thought, took his resolution. He directed his steps toward the room of the
Count de Moras. To his extreme surprise, he found him up and dressed. The
count, seeing Lucan coming in, seemed struck with astonishment. He
fastened upon him a penetrating and visibly agitated look.

"What is the matter?" he said, at last, in a low and tremulous voice.

"Nothing serious, I hope," repl