"I entirely forget what brings me to you," he said evasively. "They leave us little time; we must return to H. this evening, for we are ordered to march early to-morrow morning. I would request you to take my rooms and my library under your care. In case of my death, you can dispose of the former as you think best; the latter must go to the university; it contains many valuable books, a large share of which I have inherited." "Yes, and if a formal testament is to be made," interposed the doctor, "I beg you give me the address of your relatives, so that I may be prepared for any emergency. Hitherto, I have made no inquiries concerning them; you have maintained such a strict secrecy in regard to your family affairs." "Secrecy! I had nothing to conceal. I have no relatives." "What! not a single one?" "Not one; I stand entirely alone in the world." There lay a quiet, but deep anguish in these words. The doctor preserved a sympathetic silence; Fernow reached him his hand. "I must now bid you farewell. I have much to arrange, but I will see you again this evening." He went. Doctor Stephen accompanied him to the door, and they parted with a cordial pressure of the hand. The professor entered the parlor through which he must pass in order to reach the hall; his features had won again the gentle, melancholy expression peculiar to them; but suddenly he started, and drew back--he caught a glimpse of Miss Forest. She had not left her place at the window, but she had stepped forward somewhat, so that he could not avoid seeing her, and her glance met his. Jane's eyes were capable of no soft, dreamy glance, and even their fire was always like the glow of Northern Lights over an ice field; but still, a strange power lay in those shadowing depths, the might of a proud, unyielding will, which knew not how to entice, but to compel; and she was in the fullest measure conscious of her power. Seldom as she had recourse to this power, whenever she did enforce it, the victory remained with her, and it had been a victory over no common individuals. The obstinate character of her father had bowed to this will; it had silenced the ever-ready sarcasm of Atkins; it had brought the cold, equally rigid nature of Alison under her control. And now it must also enforce something else; the step which, in spite of all that had happened, must and should cross her path, the farewell word which she must once again hear from his lips--for this, these eyes now beamed in the full radiance of their splendor, and deep below, under all this ice flamed something warmer than the mere glow of boreal fires.