Sleep was not to be obtained, and I was up long before the dawn. All the chÂteau was dark and silent; but as it was in vain to seek that blessed forgetfulness, which only falls upon the eyes of toil or happiness, I dressed myself, notwithstanding the obscurity, and, throwing back the casement, gazed out upon the dim and silent world, that lay chill and vague in the fresh depths of an autumnal night.

A heavy dew was falling, spreading a sort of whitish-grey mist over the woods and falls of ground around the PrÉs VallÉe; but the sky above was quite clear, and a thousand bright calm stars were looking out, like the eyes of angels watching the dark scene of man's melancholy pilgrimage. The ground mist, however, and the nearer masses of dark trees, and the spangled heaven, were the only objects I could see as I looked forth, while my ear caught no sound but a light wind stirring the leaves, and the faint murmur of the river, whose rarely heard voice showed the profound stillness of everything else around. Still I gazed out, though it was upon vacancy, for the fresh night air, as it bathed my feverish brow, seemed to cool the burning of my brain, and quell the fiery thoughts that were passing within. For near an hour I continued leaning upon my arm in the deep aperture of the window, revolving things which took perhaps a more melancholy but a less frenzied form as the calmness of the night sunk down into my soul. At length, another sound seemed added to the whisper of the air and the murmur of the stream, and I fancied that some early shepherd was leading his flock betimes to the pasture of the neighbouring meadows. But presently I heard a distinct step, which seemed to proceed from beneath a group of trees, at about ten yards from the terrace, under which a walk wound along towards the river; and, accustomed as I was to mark the slightest noise, I at once concluded that it was the footfall of some one who, in walking along beneath the elms, had crossed the gravel. The next moment, as the step lighted on the turf again, I lost the sound, but almost at the same time, two figures came a little forward, and paused under the branches of the trees. Had it been any other kind of night than that which it was, I could not have distinguished the two strangers from the ground behind them, but beyond the trees was a deep slope of ground, in which the mist had gathered, white and heavy, and against it both the trunks of the elms and the forms of the men beneath their branches were clearly marked out, though of course it was still impossible to recognise their persons.

I have before remarked that neither Monsieur de Villardin nor any of his household were, generally speaking, matutinal in their habits, and it struck me as extraordinary that any of the servants should show themselves such very early risers as to be out and walking in the woods nearly an hour before daybreak. But I soon found, from the proceedings of the two men who had caught my attention, that they were none of the inmates of the chÂteau. They paused for several minutes under the trees, gazing up at the building, and scanning every part of it attentively. They spoke, too, in a low voice, but it was impossible from the distance to hear what they said, though I could distinctly see one of them raise his arm and point to the part of the chÂteau in which Laura's apartments lay. My own chambers, as I believe I have before said, were situated in the tower forming a sort of wing to the westward of the other buildings, and in the foot of the tower was a door, which opened at once from the terrace to a staircase which led up to my apartments, to the rooms above them, and to the corridor communicating with the rest of the house.

At the end of a few minutes, the two men advanced leisurely to the terrace, and, mounting the steps, approached the base of the chÂteau, seeming carefully to examine the principal door, from which, however, they turned again immediately, and came towards the foot of the tower through one of the windows of which I was watching them. As I was now not above ten or twelve feet above the spot where they stood, I could hear more distinctly what passed between them; and to speak the truth, they were conversing with a sort of cool and confident nonchalance, which showed that they either cared not who listened, or had no fear of being overheard.

"I have known this one left open for nights together," said one, as they approached the door beneath my windows.

"But, if it were, you would not go in?" replied the other.

"Not to-night, certainly," said the first again; "but if we found that it is still usually open, we could easily come back strong enough to do what we liked."

"Ay," answered his companion, "but would the priest do his part under such circumstances? I heard him promise to marry them if they came willingly; but----"

"Give him a thousand francs more, and he will do anything," interrupted the first; "I would coin my very blood to do it."

"It would be a glorious booty, to be sure," was the sort of meditative reply; "but, after all, I think we may fall upon a better plan. We should find it difficult to muster sufficient hands. However, if we once get hold of her, we will easily find means to make marriage the best thing she can do."

"Oh, no fear of that," answered the other; and after a few words more that I could not distinguish, they tried the door at the foot of the tower, and finding it locked, retrod their steps across the terrace. For a moment or two, they again paused under the elms, and once more scrutinised every part of the building; and then turning through the dell behind, they were immediately lost to my sight.

What could be their purpose? was my first question; and though I certainly could not find a probable answer, yet one fact was evident--their purpose, whatever it was, was anything but good. How it might be obviated became the next consideration; and as I was about to quit the vicinity for a long time, and did not choose to be suspected of any wish to linger, I saw that the only thing which remained for me to do was to inform Monsieur de Villardin of the facts, and set him upon his guard. As I reflected, however, I saw that I might find no fitting opportunity for putting my intention in execution the next morning, and in all that I was about to suffer, it appeared not improbable that I should forget it altogether. While it was fresh in my mind, then, I determined to write it down, and leave it for the Duke at my departure; and having struck a light, I thus occupied myself till the day mingled its purer beams with the yellow glare of my lamp.

Thinking that if Laura had heard of any of the events which had taken place during the preceding evening, she might be at our rendezvous earlier than usual, I set out as soon as the sun was fully risen, and with a wavering step and beating heart, took my way to the trees at which we usually met. Casting myself down upon the dewy grass, I waited her arrival; and bitter, bitter were the feelings which filled the next half-hour. About to part with her for ever--about to resign her to the arms of another--all her loveliness and all her gentleness seemed heightened a thousand-fold by the power of regret. Nor were my feelings entirely selfish--at least, if they were so, they strove hard to clothe themselves in a garb of disinterestedness. "If she could be happy herself," I thought, "half my sorrow would be removed; but to know that my own misery implies hers also, and that she, like me, is destined to a life of sorrow and disappointment, is too, too painful."

At our usual time of meeting she came; and Lise remained by the bank of the stream, within call, but out of hearing of any ordinary tone. I saw at once that Laura was unaware of any change, and her first words were an affectionate comment upon my pale and haggard looks. I would have given worlds that she had known the whole before we met, for oh, how terrible it was to break to her the approaching end of our communion for ever! How I did it I can scarcely tell, but her grief and agony were far more fearful than even I had anticipated. At that moment of bitter sorrow, all the treasure of her heart was poured forth. She had no reserve--she had no coldness; and, with her weeping face buried in my bosom, she told me how long and how dearly she had loved me, and traced, in words that only served to render me more miserable, the growth of her affection for me, from her infancy to that hour. I did all that I could, without appearing indifferent or unkind, to calm her, and to persuade her that no course was left either for her or me but to obey the commands of her father; and while I told how deep was my love, how acute was my grief, and how eternal would be my regret, I besought her to forget me, and to strive for happiness, or at least, tranquillity, in the only way in which it could be obtained.

"De Juvigny," she cried, clasping her beautiful hands, "I will so far obey my father as never to dream of marrying you without his consent; but I can love none other; my heart is given, and for ever; and I will never perjure myself by vowing to love any man, when I know and feel that I cannot do so. No, De Juvigny, no; there is a higher duty than even that to my parent; and it cannot be violated. When I looked upon my husband I should think of you, and I should hate him because he was not you. I should drown his house with tears, and show him every hour that I loved another. No, De Juvigny, no," she cried, starting up; "I will fly to my father this instant; I will tell him all and everything; I will show him the consequences of what he is about to do, and I will entreat him to spare me at least the last and worst part of his will."

As she spoke, she turned, and ere I could even attempt to stay her, she darted away like lightning, all bathed in tears, to cast herself at her father's feet, and implore him to change a purpose which I knew too well to be unchangeable. Lise, who saw her pass, followed quick, and I more slowly, feeling that she had herself put an end to our last interview, and that it could never be renewed. Passing by the door of Monsieur de Villardin's chamber, which was not entirely closed, I heard her voice, mingled with sobs, still entreating her father to yield his resolution. I knew, however, that she would entreat in vain: I knew, too, that means would be found after my departure to sooth her, and to persuade her to acquiesce in the views which had been formed for her by her father; and feeling that to linger longer than necessary was but to inflict additional pain upon her, upon myself, and upon Monsieur de Villardin, I summoned my servants, bade them prepare my horses and baggage immediately, and seeking out little Clement de la Marke, I told him that I was about to set off for Dumont, if he were willing to accompany me. Any change is generally delightful to youth, and the boy, catching at the proposal with rapture, flew to make ready for the journey, while I returned to my chamber to give the last thoughts to all the agonizing pangs of my present situation.

Scarcely had I entered it, however, when I was followed by Monsieur de Villardin. He was pale and much agitated; but, nevertheless, he did not fail to remark, with his usual kindness, the change which had been wrought in my appearance by the passing of the last twelve painful hours.

"You are sadly altered, De Juvigny," he said, "and this unfortunate business will be the destruction of us all, if it be not speedily brought to a conclusion. At present it is vain arguing with Laura; but I need not tell you that at any sacrifice my word must be kept. After you are gone, I trust we shall be able to calm her and bring her to reason; but, in the meantime, for the sake of every one, it will be better for us to part immediately."

"My lord," I replied, "I am ready at this moment, and my servants have orders to lose not an instant in their preparations. In less than half-an-hour the horses will be on the terrace, and before night I trust to be at Dumont. In the meanwhile, allow me to give you this letter, which I wrote to you during the night, fearing that I might not have an opportunity of speaking with you on the subject ere I set out."

He took it with somewhat of an anxious glance, as if he feared that it might inflict upon him some new pain connected with the matter which was uppermost in all our thoughts; but I hastened to relieve him. "It refers, my lord," I continued, "to something which I observed last night, while looking out of the window to pass away the time, as I was not inclined to sleep, and which I felt myself bound to make you acquainted with, lest any evil should occur during my absence."

Monsieur de Villardin tore open the letter and read its contents. "It is strange enough," he said, when he had concluded; "it is certainly strange enough; but we are a great deal too strong in numbers to fear any violence, although I hear that two or three people have been plundered in the neighbourhood of St. Aubin, and that Monsieur de Vins himself was shot at in riding through the forest: however, I will be upon my guard. And now, my dear boy, you must promise to let me hear from you continually. As my affection towards you is anything but decreased by all that has happened, let me trust that your affection towards me remains unimpaired likewise, though you may be the sufferer. No one knows better than myself that the human mind can do but little to master affliction and overcome the emotions of the heart: but still it can do something; and I am sure that, for all our sakes, you will exert yourself to the utmost to conquer the effects of sorrow and disappointment."

I made no reply, for I knew too well how little one can calculate upon one's own powers in moments of passion or despair. Almost as he had done speaking, one of my servants came in to inform me that the horses were prepared, and that everything was ready to set out. My heart was too full to take leave of any one, and merely clasping Monsieur de Villardin's hand for one moment in my own, I descended as rapidly as possible to the terrace.

I found Father Ferdinand at the door, embracing little Clement de la Marke before his departure. Old Jerome, the major-domo, and a great many of the servants and attendants, were standing round, grave and sad, and evidently aware that something unpleasant had occurred to cause my sudden departure. My own three servants, booted and spurred, stood holding the horses in front of the house; and, as my eye glanced accidentally over the windows, I saw that many a person was watching to see me set out, though I was afraid of looking farther, lest I should behold what might overcome my resolution. Saying a few words to Father Ferdinand, I walked direct towards my horse; but, as I was going to mount, I found that Monsieur de Villardin himself, anxious to deprive my situation of any unnecessary pain, had followed me out to take leave of me in the kindest manner before all those who were looking on. Laying his hand upon my arm, as I was just about to put my foot in the stirrup, he embraced me affectionately, saying, "Heaven bless you, my dear boy; let me hear from you directly." He then turned, and patted the head of little Clement de la Marke, wishing him a safe journey; and then looked round again to me, with an anxious and even hesitating glance, as if he would fain, fain have yielded all, and forbidden my departure.

I felt that I could bear no more; and leaping into the saddle, I struck my horse with the spur, and galloped away from the PrÉs VallÉe and the many dear objects that it contained. Those who have lost all that was nearest to their heart on earth may judge what were my feelings for the first ten miles. It were useless to detail all that I experienced:--the bitter disappointment, the burning regret, the swelling of the sad heart, the fire of the agitated brain. I have spoken of it all too much already; and, besides, it is impossible to give any idea of sensations which I do not believe that many can feel, and which those who can feel must know that it is impossible to relate.

My thoughts in regard to Laura were, indeed, a wild chaos of everything painful and distressing, without form or consistency. Towards Monsieur de Villardin, however, my feelings were more clearly denned; and, notwithstanding all that I suffered, I did full justice to the noble and generous conduct which he had displayed towards me. I saw and felt even then, that his kindness--that his generous sympathy, under the painful circumstances in which I was placed, would, at some future period, when time should have softened the pangs that it could never cure, become one of the sweetest memories for my after years, and bind me to that noble-hearted man by a tie that could never be broken. I saw, too, hi examining his behaviour, that the memory of all he himself had felt had greatly influenced his conduct. It was the same noble spirit which, moved by passion and by the arts of others to absolute madness, had in former days caused his own wretchedness and misery, that now, divested of any personal passion, softened and purified by long years of sorrow and regret, led him to sympathize deeply and sincerely with two hearts, which he was bound by an obligation he could not violate to tear asunder. His unshaken kindness--the generous confidence that he had reposed in me, which was the more touching from his heart not being naturally a confiding one--the sympathy he had shown--the allowances he had made--all affected me much; and, although I could not but think he was wrong in not permitting Laura to decide for herself, though I thought that no promise could bind a father to use absolute compulsion with his child, yet his conduct towards myself left me without a word to say, and made me love him the more deeply even while he inflicted the most bitter of disappointments.

These were the only alleviating feelings which my heart experienced, as I rode on towards Dumont. All the rest was bitterness itself; and, although I had by this time made up my mind to the belief that it would be criminal to expose myself to danger in a greater degree now than I would have done upon any other occasion, yet I acknowledge that I was in that frame of mind in which death would have been a relief; and that I should have blessed the hand which took a life that I looked upon as a prolongation of misery through a long and tedious series of years. Such were my thoughts as I rode through a part of the forest in which Monsieur de Villardin had told me that some outrages had lately been committed; and I could not help feeling that if a chance shot from some of the plunderers that still infested the country were to lay me low, it would be but a happy termination of sufferings to which I now saw no end. Death, however, has his own appointed time; and as it is vain to fly from him, so also is it vain to seek him ere the moment be come. Nothing disturbed me on my journey, no sign of marauders was visible as I rode along, not a creature did I meet but a forester with his axe upon his shoulder, and a thin priest riding quickly along on his ambling palfrey. Such were the only sights which I saw in the forest, except the tall trees, and the yellow banks, and the jays fluttering and chattering from bough to bough.

Sombre and silent as was every feeling of my bosom, my little page Clement endeavoured in vain to seduce me into conversation while we rode along; but still nothing could repress the joy of his heart; and, indeed, no small delight did he seem to experience at the idea of revisiting Dumont, and the scenes in which I had first found him, of all which he had preserved the most perfect recollection, and for which he seemed to entertain a peculiar regard. After riding about twenty miles, we paused to refresh our horses, and, remembering that the boy's frame was not so strong as my own, I asked him if he were fatigued, and would like to remain for the night at the auberge where we had made our halt; but he declared eagerly that he was not tired in the least, and that he had much rather proceed to Dumont as fast as possible. After a short repose, then, we resumed our journey, and reached the place of our destination before night.

One or two female servants, who had remained in the chÂteau, soon put my apartments in order; but still, about the whole place, there was that air of chilly solitude which every house gains by being left long unoccupied. My own heart had no gay feelings to cheer or enliven it; all the memories associated with every object around me were of the most gloomy and painful description; the sear leaves of autumn were upon every tree, a dull covering of grey vapour veiled the brightness of the sky, a sharp, parching wind was blowing the clouds of dust down the dim deserted avenues of the park, while the closed windows of the greater part of the building spoke the want of inhabitants, and the aspect of everything harmonised too well with the dark and sombre thoughts that crowded my own bosom. I have felt pain, and anxiety, and misery, at different periods of my life, but I never, throughout the whole range of remembrance, can call to mind having experienced such deep despondency as on that night of my arrival at Dumont.