feverish impatience. His men answered to
his agitated call as he emerged from the
church-porch. Léon joined them. The troop
were preparing to depart, and, as soon as all
were ready, left the inhospitable ruins where,
without exception, the whole party had
passed a most uncomfortable night. The
hopes of soon reaching dry quarters and warm
breakfast hastened their movements. The
gloomy silence of their leader they attributed
to the same causes as were affecting themselves
wet, cold, and hungry men, are seldom
disposed to be merry.

Animation, however, was ere long restored
to the troop; for before they were able to
reach the village where they expected to join
the rest of the detachment, they fell in with
the advanced guard of the opposing army,
and a sharp skirmish ensued. Felner, with
intrepidity and coolness, and at unsparing
personal exposure, preserved his troop from
destruction by effecting an adroit retreat.

The war continued with unabated rigour.
But little time was left for reflection to men
engaged, day by day, in the perils of the
retreats which the French had to effect, as
the successes of the English troops roused the
natives also to action. Léon saw his friends
fall, but himself seemed to bear a charmed
life. His immunity from the fate of his
comrades scarcely surprised him. The monk's
prediction had taken such firm hold on his
mind, that it was hardened with the conviction
that he was safe for the rest of the three
years. But in the intervals of active combat,
a brooding melancholy took possession of him.
Life had lost its charms. He had almost
hoped to die on the field; he would have
preferred to end his existence amidst the horrors
of the battle field, than to wait the slow
coming of the death ordained.

On the return of peace, he delayed his
journey homeward. The fatal visit to the
monastic ruin had quenched his ardent desire
to rejoin the nearest and dearest of his
kindred. The many years of domestic happiness
he had so long anticipated to pass with
Gabrielle were never, he believed, to be
realised. He would only be united to her to
be, in a short space, torn from her by death.

At length, the urgent solicitations of his
friends grew into reproaches, and he could no
longer refuse to return; but he turned his
face towards his home with a heavy, aching
heart, resolutely determined to keep his fatal
secret to himself. The sight of that happy
home, the old, dear, and familiar faces, the
cordial reception of his beloved Gabrielle,
made him doubly melancholy. Nothing
aroused him to happiness, not even promotion,
so dear to the soldier's laeart. His military
skill and undaunted courage were not unrequited.
Just before his marriage he had
been made colonel, with the promise of having
a responsible command confided to him when
next called to the field.

Still his sufferings did not abate, but the
cause no one could extract from him. For
some time Gabrielle doubted whether he did
not repent his engagement to her. But
he assured her that he loved her even more
ardently than before; and to quiet her doubts,
urged the preparations for his marriage, but
in heavy-hearted tones more characteristic of
the mourner than the bridegroom.

Two years had nearly passed since the fatal
bivouac at the monastery. All things were
arranged for the marriage. At the altar,
when pronouncing the vow of life-long love
and protection, Léon hesitated; for a conviction
that the oath was a mockery—that it
would be broken by death in a little more
than a year—weighed heavily upon him.

Marriage caused no change in his habitual
melancholy. People wondered; for Léon
Felner ranked high in military honours, had
ample fortune, and possessed a good and
beautiful wife, whom he loved, and who was
fondly attached to him. Wherefore this
despondency and distaste of life? Tears were
often observed to fill his eyes, as he gazed
upon the young bride from whom he felt he
was so soon to be parted. He became more
and more gloomy, and sadness fell upon the
cherished wife.

A son was born. Gabrielle had hoped this
event would restore his cheerfulness. Vain
hope! His despondency increased, for only
a month now remained—to live. As yet no
persuasion had wrung from him the fatal
secret. With surprise and unutterable grief,
Gabrielle saw him making preparations for
an early death. He arranged all his affairs,
settled his property, declared his wishes.
Was he intending suicide? Night and day
his wife, or his mother, watched by him.

Meanwhile, history was crowding its page
with great events. Napoleon's escape from
Elba, Fontainebleau, the hundred days, the
concentration of the grand army to the
Belgian frontier. It had already been intimated
to Léon, that his services would be
required, and he only awaited final orders
from head-quarters—not to lead his old
comrades as their colonel—but to take the head
of a division.

The excitement such news was calculated
to produce took no effect upon Felner. He
knew that the last day of life approached, and
he awaited it with the despondency of despair.
It came; and after sunset, Léon summoned
his wife and mother to his chamber. Here he
revealed the fatal secret, and took an affecting
farewell of them. It is impossible to describe
their anguish. The first part of the night
was spent in bewailing the expected fulfilment
of the warning; and then, exhausted by grief
and watching, Léon, with his weeping wife,
and with his desolate mother seated beside
him, awaited the death that was to come with
the dawn.

The first faint streak of day appeared in
the eastern horizon! Léon shuddered
convulsively a cold shiver seized his limbs; and