to do so in any case," said the old man;
"the father had destined them for each other from infancy, and people
say he made his daughter take a vow as he lay on his death-bed."

"That sounds terrible," said Edward; "and does not speak much for the
good feeling of the cousin."

"She could not have fulfilled her father's wish," interposed the
lieutenant; "her heart was bound up in Hallberg, and Hallberg's in her.
Few people, perhaps, knew this, for the lovers were prudent and
discreet; I, however, knew it all."

"And why was she not allowed to follow the inclination of her heart?"
asked Edward.

"Because her father had promised her," replied the captain: "you used
just now the word terrible; it is a fitting expression, according to my
version of the matter. It appears that one of the branches of the house
of Varnier had committed an act of injustice toward another, and Emily's
father considered it a point of conscience to make reparation. Only
through the marriage of his daughter with a member of the ill-used
branch could that act be obliterated and made up for, and, therefore, he
pressed the matter sorely."

"Yes, and the headlong passion which Emily inspired her cousin with
abetted his designs."

"Then her cousin loved Emily?" inquired Edward.

"Oh, to desperation," was the reply; "He was a rival to her shadow, who
followed her not more closely than he did. He was jealous of the rose
that she placed on her bosom."

"Then poor Emily is not likely to have a calm life with such a man,"
said Edward.

"Come," interposed the old gentleman, with an authoritative tone, "I
think you, gentlemen, go a little too far. I know D'Effernay; he is an
honest, talented man, very rich, indeed, and generous; he anticipates
his wife in every wish. She has the most brilliant house in the
neighborhood, and lives like a princess."

"And trembles," insisted the lieutenant, "when she hears her husband's
footstep. What good can riches be to her? She would have been happier
with Hallberg."

"I do not know," rejoined the captain, "why you always looked upon that
attachment as something so decided. It never appeared so to me; and you
yourself say that D'Effernay is very jealous, which I believe him to be,
for he is a man of strong passions; and this very circumstance causes me
to doubt the rest of your story. Jealousy has sharp eyes, and D'Effernay
would have discovered a rival in Hallberg, and not proved himself the
friend he always wa