She turned round at my entrance, exhibiting a pale and agitated countenance; a countenance which though not beautiful, was painfully interesting.

She had a soft olive complexion, and a full melancholy black eye, surcharged with tears.
"I motioned her to a seat, for I could not speak.

Her agitation was contagious, and I waited in silent trepidation to learn the mystery of her emotion.
"'Forgave me this intrusion,' said she, in hesitating accents; 'you look so young, so innocent, so lovely, my heart misgives me.

I cannot, I dare not.' "She spoke in French, a language of which I was mistress, and I recognized at once the land of her birth.

She paused, as if unable to proceed, while I sat, pale and cold as marble, wondering what awful revelation she would, but dared not make.