she had been seated in a
recess, rose a tall, slender female form, in a white dress of extreme
simplicity.

"My love," said D'Effernay, "I bring you a welcome guest, Lieutenant
Wensleben, who is willing to purchase the estate."

Emily courtesied; the friendly twilight concealed the shudder that
passed over her whole frame, as she heard the familiar name which
aroused so many recollections.

She bade the stranger welcome, in a low, sweet voice, whose tremulous
accents were not unobserved by Edward; and while the husband made some
further observation, he had leisure to remark, as well as the fading
light would allow, the fair outline of her oval face, the modest grace
of her movements, her pretty nymph-like figure--in fact, all those
charms which seemed familiar to him through the impassioned descriptions
of his friend.

"But what can this fancy be, to sit in the dark?" asked D'Effernay, in
no mild tone; "you know that is a thing I can not bear:" and with these
words, and without waiting his wife's answer, he rang the bell over her
sofa, and ordered lights.

While these were placed on the table, the company sat down by the fire,
and conversation commenced. By the full light Edward could perceive all
Emily's real beauty--her pale, but lovely face, the sad expression of
her large blue eyes, so often concealed by their dark lashes, and then
raised, with a look full of feeling, a sad, pensive, intellectual
expression; and he admired the simplicity of her dress, and of every
object that surrounded her: all appeared to him to bespeak a superior
mind.

They had not sat long, before D'Effernay was called away. One of his
people had something important, something urgent to communicate to him,
which admitted of no delay. A look of fierce anger almost distorted his
features; in an instant his thin lips moved rapidly, and Edward thought
he muttered some curses between his teeth. He left the room, but in so
doing, he cast a glance of mistrust and ill-temper on the handsome
stranger with whom he was compelled to leave his wife alone. Edward
observed it all. All that he had seen to-day--all that he had heard from
his comrades of the man's passionate and suspicious disposition,
convinced him that his stay here would not be long, and that, perhaps, a
second opportunity of speaking alone with Emily might not offer itself.

He determined, therefore, to profit by the present moment: and no sooner
had D'Effernay left the room, than h