embled as if in an ague;
and turning to the astonished clergyman, who was pleasing himself with
the anticipation of some catastrophe or anecdote which might form a fine
subject for town-talk, he very deliberately said:--"Mr. Denver, I beg I
may not intrude any longer on your valuable time. This gentleman, I
find, can give me some account of an old acquaintance of mine. The
inquiries may not be interesting to you. Make my best compliments to
Mrs. Denver."

When this good man was withdrawn, Mr. Martindale requested the stranger
to be seated; and unmindful of the guests whom he had left to amuse
themselves and each other, he commenced very deliberately to examine the
foreigner concerning those matters which had so strongly excited his
feelings.

"You tell me," said Mr. Martindale, "that the old woman, Bianchi, has
been dead nearly twenty years. Now, my good friend, can you inform me
how long you were acquainted with this old woman before her death."
"I knew her," replied the colonel, "only for about four years before
she died." "And had you much intimacy with her, so as to hear her
talk about former days." "Very often indeed," replied the foreigner,
"did she talk about the past; for as her age was very great, and her
memory was very good, it was great interest to hear her tell of ancient
things; and she was a woman of most excellent understanding, and very
benevolent in her disposition. Indeed, I can say that I loved the old
woman much, very much indeed. I was sorry at her death." "But tell me,"
said Mr. Martindale, impatiently, "did you ever hear her say any thing
of an infant--an orphan that was committed to her care nearly forty
years ago?" At this question, the eyes of the stranger brightened, and
his face was overspread with a smile of delight, when he replied: "Oh
yes, much indeed, much indeed! that orphan is my wife,"

This rapidity of explanation was almost too much for the old gentleman's
feelings. His limbs had been trembling with the agitation arising from
thus reverting to days and events long passed; and he had entertained
some hope from the language of the foreigner, that he might gain some
intelligence concerning one that had been forgotten, but whose image was
again revived in his memory. He had thought but lightly in the days of
his youth of that which he then called folly, but more seriously in the
days of his age of that same conduct which then he called vice. It would
have been happiness to his soul,