too well into the shape of the dark thoughts which were crossing his own mind.  Late in the evening, after supper, they played whist in Emily’s boudoir.  On the morrow, if the weather permitted, they were to conclude their inspection of the surrounding property, and the next day they were to visit the iron foundries, which, although distant from the Castle several miles, formed a very important item in the rent-roll of the estates.  The company separated for the night.  Edward fell asleep; and the same dream, with the same circumstances, recurred, only with the full consciousness that the sick man was Ferdinand.  Edward felt overpowered, a species of horror took possession of his mind, as he found himself now in regular communication with the beings of the invisible world.

The weather favored D’Effernay’s projects.  The whole day was passed in the open air.  Emily only appeared at meals, and in the evening when they played at cards.  Both she and Edward avoided, as if by mutual consent, every word, every look that could awaken the slightest suspicion or jealous feeling in D’Effernay’s mind.  She thanked him in her heart for this forbearance, but her thoughts were in another world; she took little heed of what passed around her.  Her husband was in an excellent temper; he played the part of host to perfection; and when the two officers were established comfortably by the fire, in the captain’s room, smoking together, they could not but do justice to his courteous manners.

“He appears to be a man of general information,” remarked Edward.

“He has traveled a great deal, and read a great deal, as I told you when we first met:  he is a remarkable man, but one of uncontrolled passions, and desperately jealous.”

“Yet he appears very attentive to his wife.”

“Undoubtedly he is wildly in love with her; yet he makes her unhappy, and himself too.”

“He certainly does not appear happy, there is so much restlessness.”

“He can never bear to remain in one place for any length of time together.  He is now going to sell the property he only bought last year.  There is an instability about him; everything palls on him.”

“That is the complaint of many who are rich and well to do in the world.”

“Yes; only not in the same degree.  I assure you it has often struck me that man must have a bad conscience.”

“What an idea!” rejoined Edward, with a forced laugh, for the captain’s remark struck him forcibly.  “He seems a man of honor.”

“Oh, one may be a man of honor, as it is called, and yet have something quite bad enough to reproach yourself with.  But I know nothing about it, and would not breathe such a thing except to you.  His wife, too, looks so pale and so oppressed.”

“But, perhaps, that is her natural complexion and expression.”

“Oh, no! no! the year before D’Effernay came from Paris, she was as fresh as a rose.  Many people declare that your poor friend loved her.  The affair was wrapped in mystery, and I never believed the report, for Hallberg was a steady man, and the whole country knew that Emily had been engaged a long time.”