The boatman, observing the direction of our hero's eyes, began to tell him in French, a tale possessing much of the sentimental, of which that language, when it does not degenerate into affectation, is so good a vehicle. He expatiated on the youth, the beauty, and the apparent wealth, forlorn state, of this mysterious lady of the lake who was dying, he said, in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers and servants and without one friend or relative near to receive her last sigh. It was by order of the physician, he added, of whose practice he, by the way, by no means seemed to approve, that she was brought out thus on the lake at all hours, and almost all weathers, more, 'tis to be feared, to give notoriety to the doctor than health to the patient. While he was speaking, the boat which contained the invalid began to come towards them, on its way to the place of landing. At the same moment a slight breeze arose, and lifting the curtains of the awning on both sides simultaneously, kept them straight out, with a gently fanning movement, like the extended wings of some gigantic bird. Its appearance thus remarkable, its progress barely perceptible, it continued drawing nearer and nearer while the narrator went on, winding up his story by saying, the report was, that this beautiful lady had two suitors in her own country, who were brothers; and that the one had murdered the other for jealousy, but his crime being discovered, he had been brought to trial, and executed: so that the poor young lady might well be disconsolate, having thus lost both her lovers. By this time the approaching boat had come so close, that in passing, it slightly grazed that in which our hero sat. Alfred's gaze had for some time been intense; his cheek now blanched; unconsciously he grasped the arm of the boatman. Pale, beautiful, to all appearance lifeless, the form which lay beneath the uplifted awning in the passing boat was that of Caroline. The eyes were closed, but the faultless features, in their angel-like expression, were still unchanged, presenting a model of perfect loveliness reposing in the sleep of death: while the silent attendants, with their common-place, though solemn visages, looked like the rough stone figures of mourning mutes coarsely carved around some Parian marble monument. CHAPTER XVI. To account for the appearance of our heroine under such peculiar circumstances, we must look back to secondary events, which latterly we have not had leisure to notice.