retired to break the death of his father to his wife; but not before the Count had pressed upon him a sum of money, that made Ernest's grateful service useless for the present, and which he repaid before he left the house.—On his way home, the recollection of the scene in his late father's apartment, a scene which, however strange and improbable it would appear on relation, he was perfectly convinced was not the illusion of his senses, and which seemed to him the voice of the dead speaking peace to his wounded mind.
The more he reflected on the circumstance, the more extraordinary it appeared. The refusal of Count Renaud to admit him to his presence in his last moments, to bestow one consoling word, nor yet even to recall the heavy curse that he had laid upon him when his union with Claudina was declared. Such stern, such unrelenting anger, seemed as inconsistent with his natural goodness of heart, as a pardon pronounced after death.—-
