said Auriol, after gazing at her for a few moments in silent
admiration. Edith murmured an affirmative, and blushed deeply. "He has fixed Wednesday next," pursued Auriol; "but I wish an earlier
day could have been named. I have a presentiment that if our marriage is
so long delayed, it will not take place at all." "You are full of misgivings, Auriol," she replied. "I confess it," he said; "and my apprehensions have risen to such a
point, that I feel disposed to urge you to a private marriage, during
your father's absence." "Oh no, Auriol; much as I love you, I could never consent to such a
step," she cried. "You cannot urge me to it. I would not abuse my dear
father's trusting love. I have never deceived him, and that is the best
assurance I can give you that I shall never deceive you." Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Talbot, who
held out both his hands to Auriol, and professed the greatest delight to
see him. And no doubt he was sincere. The dinner passed off most
pleasantly, and so did the evening; for the old gentleman was in high
spirits, and his hilarity was communicated to the young couple. When
Auriol and Mr. Talbot went up-stairs to tea, they found that Edith's
aunt, Mrs. Maitland, had arrived to take charge of her during her
father's absence. This lady had always exhibited a partiality for
Auriol, and had encouraged his suit to her niece; consequently she was
well satisfied with the turn affairs had taken. It was near midnight
before Auriol could tear himself away; and when he rose to depart, Mr.
Talbot, who had yawned frequently, but fruitlessly, to give him a hint,
told him he might depend upon seeing him back on the evening of the
third day, and in the meantime he committed him to the care of Mrs.
Maitland and Edith. Three days flew by rapidly and delightfully; and on the evening of the
last, just as the little party were assembled in the drawing-room, after
dinner, Mr. Talbot returned from this journey. "Well, here I am!" he cried, clasping Edith to his bosom, "without
having encountered any misadventure. On the contrary, I have completed
my business to my entire satisfaction." "Oh, how delighted I am to see you, dear papa!" exclaimed Edith. "Now,
Auriol, you can have no more apprehensions." "Apprehensions of what?" cried Mr. Talbot. "Of some accident befalling you, which might have interfered with our
happiness, sir," replied Auriol. "Oh, lovers are full of idle fears!" cried Mr. Talbot. "They are
unreasonable beings. However, here I am, as I said before, safe and
sound. To-morrow we will finish all preliminary arrangements, and the
day after you shall be made happy--ha! ha!" "Do you know, papa, Auriol intends to give a grand ball on our
wedding-day, and has invited all his acquaintance to it?" remarked
Edith. "I hope you have not invited Cyprian Rougemont?" said Mr. Talbot,
regarding him fixedly. "I have not, sir," replied Auriol, turning pale. "But why do you
particularise him?" "Because I have heard some things of him not much to his credit,"
replied Mr. Talbot. "What--what have you heard, sir?" demanded Auriol. "Why, one shouldn't believe all the ill one hears of a man; and, indeed,
I _cannot_ believe all I have heard of Cyprian Rougemont," replied Mr.
Talbot; "but I should be glad if you dropped his acquaintance
altogether. And now let us change the subject." Mr. Talbot seated himself beside Mrs. Maitland, and began to give her
some account of his journey, which appeared to have been as pleasant as
it had been rapid. Unable to shake off the gloom which had stolen over him, Auriol took his
leave, promising to meet Mr. Talbot at his lawyer's in Lincoln's Inn, at
noon on the following day. He was there at the time appointed, and, to
Mr. Talbot's great delight, and the no small surprise of the lawyer,
paid over a hundred thousand pounds, to be settled on his future wife. "You are a perfect man of honour, Auriol," said Mr. Talbot, clapping him
on the shoulder, "and I hope Edith will make you an excellent wife. Indeed, I have no doubt of it." "Nor I,--if I ever possess her," mentally ejaculated Auriol. The morning passed in other preparations. In the evening the lovers met
as usual, and separated with the full persuasion, on Edith's part at
least, that the next day would make them happy. Since the night of the
compact, Auriol had neither seen Rougemont, nor heard from him, and he
neglected no precaution to prevent his intrusion. CHAPTER V

THE SEVENTH NIGHT


It was a delicious morning in May, and the sun shone brightly on
Auriol's gorgeous equipage, as he drove to St. George's, Hanover Square,
where he was united to Edith. Thus far all seemed auspicious, and he
thought he could now bill defiance to fate. With the object of his love
close beside him, and linked to him by the strongest and holiest ties,
it seemed impossible she could be snatched from him. Nothing occurred
during the morning to give him uneasiness, and he gave orders that a
carriage and four should be ready an hour before midnight, to convey him
and his bride to Richmond, where they were to spend their honeymoon. Night came, and with it began to arrive the guests who were bidden to
the ball. No expense had been spared by Auriol to give splendour to his
fete. It was in all respects magnificent. The amusements of the evening
commenced with a concert, which was performed by the first singers from
the Italian Opera; after which, the ball was opened by Auriol and his
lovely bride. As soon as the dance was over, Auriol made a sign to an
attendant, who instantly disappeared. "Are you prepared to quit this gay scene with me, Edith?" he asked, with
a heart swelling with rapture. [Illustration: The significant whisper.] "Quite so," she replied, gazing at him with tenderness; "I long to be
alone with you." "Come, then," said Auriol. Edith arose, and passing her arm under that of her husband, they quitted
the ball-room, but in place of descending the principal staircase, they
took a more private course. The hall, which they were obliged to cross,
and which they entered from a side-door, was spacious and beautifully
proportioned, and adorned with numerous statues on pedestals. The
ceiling was decorated with fresco paintings, and supported by two
stately scagliola pillars. From between these, a broad staircase of
white marble ascended to the upper room. As Auriol had foreseen, the
staircase was thronged with guests ascending to the ball-room, the doors
of which being open, afforded glimpses of the dancers, and gave forth
strains of liveliest music. Anxious to avoid a newly-arrived party in
the hall, Auriol and his bride lingered for a moment near a pillar. "Ha! who is this?" cried Edith, as a tall man, with a sinister
countenance, and habited entirely in black, moved from the farther side
of the pillar, and planted himself in their path, with his back partly
towards them. A thrill of apprehension passed through Auriol's frame.