The hope, limited as it was, inspired her with new spirits, and, compared with her previous bearing, she was quite animated when she rejoined her father. Sir Edgar was overjoyed, and, to all appearance, Don Felix was no less so; and they both strove their utmost, by engaging her constantly in conversation, to maintain her in the equanimity she seemed to enjoy. For a week, or so, while her hope retained its ascendency, their efforts were successful; but as the time drew nigh at which, according to the period she had fixed, she might expect a reply to her letter to Hildebrand, her spirits drooped, and she again sank into listlessness and apathy. The mental fever that she now endured was beyond expression excruciating. It would have been far better for her to be without hope, than to hang, hour by hour, and minute by minute, by such a pitiful thread, and look down on all the horrors of despair. What poignant thoughts struck her every minute! Now she would be comparatively composed, and then, quick as lightning, a fear would spring from her heart, that would make her brow sweat again. What fearful agony was that! Yet it was nothing, in force and horror, compared with what she endured at night. Then, when every other eye was sealed in sleep, she lay on her troubled pillow in a raging fever--restless, racked, and burning. Even when exhausted nature sank her into a brief sleep, she writhed under horrible dreams, and was soon, in spite of her exhaustion, startled into action by a monstrous nightmare. Yet all this time, under all this suffering, she bent her knee daily, in humble adoration, before the inscrutable providence of her Maker; she never once questioned the equity of His dispensations; she only asked for mercy, patience, and fortitude to bear them meetly. Never a breath of complaint once escaped her. She even tried to look cheerful; to exhilarate her father, she would even smile, when, God knows, her noble heart was bursting. At length the day arrived which was to decide her fortune. What a day! Every approaching step, if she did not recognise it directly, made her start. Once, looking out of the casement, on the side of the mansion nearest the lodge, she espied a horseman coming up the avenue. What a host of hopes and fears rose in her bosom, during the few minutes that, from the time she first saw him, the horseman was occupied in riding to the house! Both Sir Edgar and Don Felix were in the room; but though she felt assured, from the very outset, that the horseman was a messenger from Hildebrand, she was afraid to call their attention to his appearance, lest they should perceive her agitation. She was still looking out of the casement, when, with a beating heart, she heard old Adam enter the chamber, and approach Don Felix. The next moment, the voice of Don Felix, whispering her father, brought all her bright and inspiriting speculations to the ground. “It is the priest,” he said.