There, out of that dark corner, had the form risen up, and moved toward him.  But might it not have been the effect of light and shade produced by the moonbeams, and the dark branches of a large tree close to the window, when agitated by the high wind?  Perhaps he had seen this, and then fallen asleep, and all combined, had woven itself into a dream.  But the name of Emily Varnier!  Edward did not remember ever to have heard it; certainly it had never been mentioned in Ferdinand’s letters.  Could it be the name of his love, of the object of that ardent and unfortunate passion?  Could the vision be one of truth?  He was meditating, lost in thought, when there was a knock at his door, and the servant entered.  Edward rose hastily, and sprang out of bed.  As he did so, he heard something fall with a ringing sound; the servant stooped and picked up a gold ring, plain gold, like a wedding-ring.  Edward shuddered:  he snatched it from the servant’s hand, and the color forsook his cheeks as he read the two words “Emily Varnier” engraved inside the hoop.  He stood there like one thunderstruck, as pale as a corpse, with the proof in his hand that he had not merely dreamed, but had actually spoken with the spirit of his friend.  A servant of the household came in to ask whether the Lieutenant wished to breakfast in his room, or down stairs with the family.  Edward would willingly have remained alone with the thoughts that pressed heavily on him, but a secret dread lest his absence should be remarked, and considered as a proof of fear, after all that had passed on the subject of the haunted room, determined him to accept the proposal.  He dressed hastily, and arranged his hair carefully, but the paleness of his face, and the traces of tears in his eyes, were not to be concealed, and he entered the saloon, where the family were already assembled at the breakfast-table, with the chaplain and the doctor.

The Baron rose to greet him:  one glance at the young officer’s face was sufficient; he pressed his hand in silence, and led him to a place by the side of the Baroness.  An animated discussion now began concerning the weather, which was completely changed; a strong south wind had risen in the night, so there was now a thaw.  The snow was all melted—­the torrents were flowing once more, and the roads impassable.

“How can you possibly reach Blumenberg, to-day?” the Baron inquired of his guest.

“That will be well nigh impossible,” said the doctor.  “I am just come from a patient at the next village, and I was nearly an hour performing the same distance in a carriage that is usually traversed on foot in a quarter of an hour.”

Edward had not given a thought this morning to the shooting-match.  Now that it had occurred to him to remember it, he felt little regret at being detained from a scene of noisy festivity which, far from being desirable, appeared to him actually distasteful in his present frame of mind.  Yet he was troubled by the thought of intruding too long on the hospitality of his new friends; and he said, in a hesitating manner—­