Thus had she done each night since the memorable
interview with Claude Montigny; and now not less
long did she linger there, but longer; nor thought
of retiring, till, startled at the approaching sound of
horses, she hastily re-closed the curtains; the sound
ceased, and she began slowly to undress. But her
thoughts were elsewhere; and, falling into a reverie,
she sat with her raised fingers still upon her dress,
that she was about to withdraw from before her
snowy bosom, when again she heard the sound of
hoofs on the road, and soon a shaking of reins near
the gate, and champing of the bit, mingled with the
smothered growl of the awakened Newfoundlander.
Divining the cause, and seized with trembling, she
arose, again threw aside the curtains, and beheld in
the moonlight a figure advancing up the lawn. A
moment she gazed upon the apparition; then, scarcely
knowing what she did, opened the folding window,
and half within and half without her chamber, lean-
ing forward into the night, demanded in a piercing
whisper of enquiry and alarm: "Who comes there?
Speak, is it Claude Montigny?"

"It is I, my love, for by what name shall you be
called, yet dearer, worthier than love?" responded
the subdued, yet full, clear voice of Claude. Then,
drawing nearer, he continued in an enraptured tone:

"Oh, my lady, oh, my heart, my love, my life;
my mistress now, my wife that is to be: my breath,
my soul; my hope, my happiness, my all in all; fair
presence -- but in vain my tongue seeks for the word
that shall embody you, and, like the hunted hare re-
turning to its form, so does my soul return to that
word, love. My love, then, be it, for you are my

[[72]]

p071 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p072w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p073

v?