Causation could not exist in that which had no action. The thing that was not done was not at all. What effect could be attributed to that which itself had no existence?

In this circle of ideas his mind continually moved. I find proof of it in all he wrote.

This is why the inscription on the Egyptian ring had so strongly seized upon his imagination. His own thesis had arisen from the tomb, fortified by the authority of twenty centuries. This is why he had so cautiously considered each active expression of his will, so scrupulously weighed every action of his life. As, according to this way of thinking, the sum of ef fects must be equal to the sum of causes, and as he thought that he could precisely predicate the first if he carefully calculated the last, he assumed for certain that he could never become the slave of a passion; since, passion being only an effect, had he not beforehand measured and assigned to it its definite extent by the exactly equivalent limits accorded to the cause of it in his proper action?

In the same way he reduced his responsibility to a similar equation. So much action, so much responsibility. He would suffer himself to recognize and accept no responsibility which was not contained in (and legitimized by) this equation. To his own law he had strictly adhered. The law of his mind he had made the law of his nature. He had never evaded it, never opposed it, never flinched from it. In this he had sought security, and to this he now clung with the energy of despair. In his own sense he had never failed, never been wanting. He had, under no

much as a A system

provocation, ever humiliated himself in his own eyes. He dared not do so; he could not do so; for, in this system of his, he had left himself not so foot's breadth for escape from failure. which did not admit of weakness could not provide for pardon. By the side of his law was chaos: one step beyond his inch of solid ground, the abyss. Mediation was impossible where there was nothing intermediate. At the summit of his severe religion, in the place of a compassionate Christ, stood a relentless Necessity.

CHAPTER VI.

BEFORE THE ALTAR.

It was the day fixed for the marriage. It had been settled that the ceremony should take place in the private chapel of the chateau, and in the presence of only a few witnesses-the most intimate friends of the family.

Edmond had long looked forward to this moment. He felt that it would be the decisive crisis of his life, and he was forewarned that the Spectre would appear. He was resolved to confront it without flinching. By resolutely fixing in his mind the thought of the apparition, he sought to prepare himself to sustain, undefeated, the shock of that sudden terror, of which the triumph is-madness. It was neither of Heaven nor of Hell, but of himself, that he sought strength for the final conflict.

When he felt that he was master of himself, he went to meet his betrothed.

Those that saw him pass said to each other, "See how brave and hearty is our young lord to-day! How gallantly goes he yonder, with his manly step and handsome face. On him Heaven's blessing visibly reposes; for he is of a noble nature, and 'tis written clear on the brow of him that there is not in his veins one drop of sullied blood."

M

But none of them could see the stormy brewage that was working deep under that serene exterior.

Those who have ever visited the silver mines at Freiberg or the Hartz will be familiar with a fugitive and beautiful phenomenon which occurs during the process of melting the ore, and lasts but an instant.

The miners call it silberblick.

When the air first comes into contact with the incandescent liquid mass, there is seen for a moment a bright iridescence of vivid colors in rapid motion. This brilliant phantom is produced by the impure alloy, which, under a light whitish cloud, suddenly combines with a particle of the oxygen in the atmosphere.

The metallic mass, seized with a twirling movement, manifests variations more and more rapid, and shines with the shifting light of the most beautiful evanescent tints. Suddenly all movement stops. For an instant the molten metallic surface loses all its lustre-looks dull, opaque, and dead. Then there is a farther change; and instantaneously the same surface is completely overspread with the smooth clear polish of the pure silver. Under the influence of intensest heat, all the particles of foreign matter have been dissipated. But at the bottom of the meltingpot they have left a trace of their passage-a small black spot.

The miners say, "Reine silber blickt nie." (The pure silver has no silberblick.)

The fire, finding nothing more to consume, leaves -on the surface, a smile; in the interior, a raging heat; deep at bottom of all, a black spot.

This is the silberblick.

When Edmond stood before the altar at the side of his betrothed, there was a smile upon his face. It was the silberblick.

For his thoughts were not in the sanctuary. He saw neither the priest before him, nor the bride beside him, nor the witnesses around him.

He was waiting for the Spectre. He was arming himself for a supernatural combat.

He knew It would appear; and, for the first time, his own spirit felt itself a match for his ghostly assailant. Nothing-not even the movement of a muscle -betrayed that this man was challenging with superhuman defiance the whole world of spirits to banish that smile from his face.

All his senses were sentinels, vigilantly on the watch. He was throwing out scouts and outposts in every direction. He was making his great reconnoitre. He peered into every corner. He heard the slightest noise almost before it was audible. Before him, around him, here, there, every where-ay, even outside among the corridors, and in the porch, the park-there where eye and ear withdrew their aid, his nerves, stimulated to the highest pitch, had forced into his service a new unintermediate sense, wherewith to meet midway, and so forestall, the onset of his phantom foe. Should he succeed in this-should he, by a supreme effort, contrive to forelay the apparition before it appeared, then victory was assured to him. The Ghost would have been beaten before it could come into the field.

And all this while he was standing there—the altar