The clock on the neighboring church had scarcely ceased striking three, when the servant announced that a carriage had called for Mr. Green. In less than half an hour he was seated in a most sumptuous barouche, drawn by two beautiful iron grays, and rolling along over a splendid gravel road, completely shaded by large trees which appeared to have been the accumulated growth of centuries. The carriage soon stopped in front of a low villa, and this too was imbedded in magnificent trees covered with moss. Mr. Green alighted and was shown into a superb drawing-room, the walls of which were hung with fine specimens from the hands of the great Italian painters, and one by a German artist representing a beautiful monkish legend connected with “The Holy Catharine,” an illustrious lady of Alexandra. The furniture had an antique and dignified appearance. High-backed chairs stood around the room; a venerable mirror stood on the mantle shelf; rich curtains of crimson damask hung in folds at either side of the large windows; and a rich Turkish carpet covered the floor. In the center stood a table covered with books, in the midst of which was an old-fashioned vase filled with fresh flowers, whose fragrance was exceedingly pleasant. A faint light, together with the quietness of the hour, gave a beauty, beyond description, to the whole scene. Mr. Green had scarcely seated himself upon the sofa, when the elderly gentleman whom he had met the previous evening made his appearance, followed by the little boy, and introduced himself as Mr. Devenant. A moment more, and a lady—a beautiful brunette—dressed in black, with long curls of a chestnut color hanging down her cheeks, entered the room. Her eyes were of a dark hazel, and her whole appearance indicated that she was a native of a southern clime. The door at which she entered was opposite to where the two gentlemen were seated. They immediately arose; and Mr. Devenant was in the act of introducing her to Mr. Green, when he observed that the latter had sunk back upon the sofa, and the last word that he remembered to have heard was, “It is she.” After this all was dark and dreary; how long he remained in this condition it was for another to tell. When he awoke he found himself stretched upon the sofa with his boots off, his neckerchief removed, shirt-collar unbuttoned, and his head resting upon a pillow. By his side sat the old man, with the smelling bottle in one hand, and a glass of water in the other, and the little boy standing at the foot of the sofa. As soon as Mr. Green had so far recovered as to be able to speak, he said: “Where am I, and what does this mean?” “Wait awhile,” replied the old man, “and I will tell you all.” After a lapse of some ten minutes he rose from the sofa, adjusted his apparel, and said: “I am now ready to hear anything you have to say.” “You were born in America?” said the old man. “Yes,” he replied. “And you were acquainted with a girl named Mary?” continued the old man.