know more. more. "No," I said, "I do not wish to his brother, he had persuaded her that I do not desire to hear the fatal results of Patrick's duel in You are lost to honor and vir- Ireland obliged him to go into hiding. tue!" Yet at last I did consent to let Without this, he said, it would have him go on, provided he said not an- been impossible to keep her mind easy. other word of what he called his pas- Every day, every hour, she would have sion. been hoping to see him. "I was not deceiving her," said Tenermill, "when I assured her I was laboring in her interests, and promising in time to make her happy." For a little while her having seen Patrick in the garden seemed likely, he added, to upset everything. But he had secured so much influence over her that at last she was satisfied with his explanations, especially when he told her he had written to her father, and together they would take steps to make her an honored and a happy wife. "With all your penetration," he continued, "I wonder that you did not see at once my meaning. If I take my brother's place and become the husband of my lady (a place that, as you know, Patrick, in the eyes of God, has never held), the honor and the interests of our family will be saved. My lady will keep her title, and be really Countess of C-, which she is not at present, and Patrick will be free to marry the woman he loves." I had never thought of this. I said nothing. But Tenermill, who had not gone thus far without being fully informed on the matter, went on to meet what he feared might be my objections by telling me of a number of examples of the same thing having been done with the approbation of the Church in the case of kings and princes. A thousand times, he said, authorities, civil and ecclesiastical, had sanctioned such marriages. Such facts were indisputable. He spoke so confidently that I began to think he had secured the approval of my lady, and I also began to think that such a marriage might not only bring back peace to our family, but to my self. If the Church approved, why should not I be satisfied? I only dreaded what Fincer might say about it. I said so to Tenermill. His answer led to a further explanation. He owned that he had written to Fincer, and had been anxiously expecting his answer every day; but his arrival in Paris without any announcement alarmed him. Hoping to bring him over to his cause, he had stated as strongly as he could the advantages of accepting him as his son-in-law. In this state of the affair he had thought it best not to inform my lady of this step, but to bring her by degrees, as she recovered her health, to look upon him as her suitor. By agreement with All this story was too long for my impatience. I stopped my brother short. Every word he said gave me the certainty that my sister-in-law knew nothing of his project, and was quite unaware that other people were plotting the disposal of her hand. What ground have you," I said to Tenermill, "to flatter yourself that my lady approves your enterprise, or shares your feelings? What right have you to dispose of her hand, her fortune, and her heart, against her will? Do you think that you have changed her love for Patrick into a passion for you ?" He cast his eyes down. my only difficulty," he said. "That is "And that is the one thing essential to your project," I replied. "I wish you to know plainly my sentiments on this subject. If your suit were really approved by her ladyship, I would say - though with shame that in the present disordered condition of our family, I should be willing to accept almost any means of restoring peace ; but, since we are not to act in opposition to the will of Heaven, I say firmly that unless I know that my lady gives her full and free consent, I shall follow the dictates of my conscience, and oppose your project in every way." I rose as I said this. and, turning my back upon him, walked across the room. For a few moments he remained | requested permission to speak with me silent. His silence and emotion so alone. I had not expected this impaI tience upon his part, and it alarmed me. unlike himself-began to move me. gave him credit for what he had said about being deeply in love with the amiable Sara, and I listened while he explained to me that if Fincer gave his consent and I gave mine on condition that the lady would approve his suit, he had every hope that, perceiving the advantages such a marriage would offer her, she would consent to make him and herself happy. "But what I fear," he said, "is Fincer. I do not know how I had better behave to him. I am afraid to meet him, unless you can first have some explanation with him.” I accepted the commission, glad to find that Tenermill was willing to accept my assistance, and to depend on my advice. "But," I said, "what surprises me is that Fincer did not say a word to me about your suit, nor did he mention your letter." Then Tenermill owned that in writing to him he had put him on his guard against me, begging him to say nothing to me upon the subject, for fear of finding me too ready to oppose his views. Auxious as I was to get back to Paris, I wanted to see Patrick before leaving Les Saisons, that I might beg him, until the matter of his divorce was settled, to be more than ever circumspect in his relations to Mademoiselle de L—. Tenermill, who was radiant at the consent I had seemed to give to his last proposal, promised to warn him, and he also acquiesced in the propriety of putting an end to the presence of Mademoiselle de L under our roof. I said I thought the short journey to Paris could not possibly retard her recovery. Tenermill agreed with me, and promised to secure the approval of his brother. So I left Les Saisons in a hopeful state of mind. Count S-, when he heard of Fincer's arrival at his house, insisted on accompanying me. We drove as fast as possible, for I feared lest Fincer might get angry at my long absence. I found him so, in fact, when, after a few words in reply to his polite reception from Count S he While I had been away Fincer had found out from servants that our family were living at Les Saisons, and were all there when he reached the house that morning. He suspected me at once of some trick, because I had been so solicitous to get him away. This, and what Tenermill had thought fit to say of me, together with an old prejudice inspired by Dilnich, arising out of my indignation against Fincer as an informer, induced him to look on me as a dangerous character, as a man pledged to take vengeance on himself, and as his daughter's enemy. He fancied I had induced her to leave Ireland, and to accompany me to a foreign country, where she would find herself defenceless against my machinations ; for he had persuaded himself that I intended to avenge on her the false accusations he had brought against my family. In short, he attributed to me all the hatred and malignity that men of the world are apt to think too common in men of my profession. With this bad opinion of me, he began our conversation. At first he put great restraint upon himself, but as our talk went on he became very bitter. It was evident that Dilnich had written to him much about the unhappiness of his daughter in her marriage, and that Tenermill (though he did not name him) had strengthened his own cause by representing Patrick as a man who could never make her happy. Fincer broke out at last in violent reproaches. "Your age, your character, your profession," he said, "bound you to keep good order in your family. You should have interfered to prevent the wrongs my daughter has been suffering under your very eyes. Do you think that you are not responsible to a father for the outrage that you have suffered to be inflicted on his only child? " He went on in this way, walking up and down the room, not moved in the least by my humble protestations of innocence. At last, in the course of his harangue, the name of Tenermill was for the first time mentioned. Then I told him that Tenermill knew of his arrival and was most anxious to see him; but that, as I knew all, he wished me to give him first some explana tions. Alas! this made him think me more perfidious than ever. He looked at me with scorn and indignation, giving me to understand that he was aware I was deceiving him. "For if Lord Tenermill knew I was at Les Saisons this morning," he said, "he would have come out to me at once, and have brought my daughter. Some of you for some reason have conspired not to let me see Lord Tenermill or my daughter. But I will overcome all obstacles!"" Thereupon he started off to find the count. I followed him. He asked abruptly whether or not he could see his daughter, and the count, not knowing how things stood, nor what answer it was best to make, evaded the question. He assured Fincer that her ladyship's health was improving, and that she would soon be able to come to Paris and to welcome her father. In vain I urged Fincer to trust me as an honest man. In vain I offered to tell him everything in the presence of the count. The man was mad with rage. Then, calming down, he took no notice of me, but waving me aside, attempted to carry on a commonplace conversation with Count S―. This lasted an hour. I own I was amazed to see that he had so much self-command. I was making up my mind to go back to Les Saisons, and there report my want of progress to Lord Tenermill, when a servant announced his arrival with her ladyship. If a thunderbolt had fallen at my feet I could not have been more astonished and alarmed. I rose in haste, hoping to meet them before Fincer could speak, but the moment Tenermill perceived me as he came on, holding her ladyship by the hand, he begged me to take his carriage and drive out at once to Les Saisons, where my pres ence was of great importance, while he saw Mr. Fincer himself. I was opening my lips to explain the situation, but without stopping to hear me, he flung himself into the arms of Fincer, who came to meet him, followed by the count. Though I could not imagine why I should be wanted at Les Saisons, the words and the tone of Tenermill seemed to demand such haste that I took his carriage and set off immediately. I was received by Patrick with transports of affection and joy. With difficulty I disengaged myself from his embrace, saying: "You cause me such an infinite variety of anxiety and trouble, that I never know what to condemn in you, nor what to approve." As I said this I caught sight of Mademoiselle de L- coming towards me with my sister. Never had I seen her in apparently such perfect health. She was blooming like a rose, and I caught a glance between Patrick and the countess which made me think that I had been the victim of a deception. She was evidently quite able to travel, nor could I divine any motive for my having been despatched in such haste to Les Saisons. I was shocked and annoyed by the babble and frivolity of these young people, who were evidently building their hopes on the consent of Patrick's wife to marry Teuermill. At last I said to Rose and Patrick: "Your brother was very desirous I should come out at once to Les Saisons, but I do not divine what for." "I can tell you," said Patrick. "He thought that if you and Rose remained here there could be no impropriety in our retaining Mademoiselle de La few days more as our guest at Les Saisons." I answered this by saying that it was imperative that Rose, who had a guest in her own house, should return to Paris; that I was not sure how long I could remain at Les Saisons; and, in short, I made it plain that Mademoiselle de L, being now perfectly well, had better leave us. She did so, accordingly, with Rose, Patrick being | umphed over all objections on the part much affected on taking leave of her. With all my heart I pitied him, but was I not to be pitied myself, the sport and plaything of these frivolous young people, the object of Fincer's scorn, and not long since of Patrick's insults and reproaches? All I could do was to commend myself to the care of Heaven. of Sara Fincer; and her consent to a divorce had been given in the most legal way. The king, to whom he had carried the paper at once, had confirmed it by his approval, and the two English bishops at his court had appended their consent couched in ecclesiastical terms. For fear I should feel any scruple about acting on these papers without seeing what they contained, he sent me copies of Sara's assent, and the ecclesiastical decision of our bishops at Saint Germain, each signed by Fincer, who would tell me the same thing in his letter. Thus God and man having united in giving their consent, "nothing remained for me," my brother added, "but to end all difficulties at once by giving my nuptial benediction to the two couples. And as we were Irish, and not subject to the laws of France, there was no need to lose time by asking dispensation from the French bishops, who had nothing to do in the matter, dispensation being clearly implied in the paper Notwithstanding the state of depression into which Patrick fell as soon as Mademoiselle de L- had left Les Saisons, I drew from him some particulars concerning Tenermill. He was in love, he said, sincerely in love with Sara, but he did not undervalue the advantages of the marriage he was desirous to make. Though King James had obtained the restoration of his property, it hardly sufficed for his needs, and he was quite aware that it was necessary for him to marry a rich wife. This might be difficult if he sought a French lady of his own rank, for the French insist far more than the Irish on equality of fortune in marriage. But in Sara he found every-signed by the two Irish prelates at the thing he could desire all ready to his hand. By this time things were so changed that I no longer knew whose part I meant to take, nor what were my own wishes; but I took such opportunities as Patrick afforded me to give him a few warnings as to being too much elated with the prospect he seemed to think so certain of speedily transferring his wife to Tenermill. But the next morning, when I asked for him, Joe, my valet, told me that he had quitted Les Saisons, leaving only a message for me with my man, whom he met as he was taking his departure. I sat waiting his return, when a messenger arrived express from Paris, bringing me two letters; one from Fincer the other from Lord Tenermill. I opened both of them at once, uncertain which to read first in my surprise. However, I chose that of my brother. He began by informing me that his happiness was secured, and that he entreated my congratulations, since he said he had by parental authority tri court of our own king. He therefore begged me to marry at once my brother Patrick to Mademoiselle de L- - He should be glad to know, he said, that this was done as soon as possible, so as to remove all scruples from the mind of Sara Fincer, after which he hoped I would come at once to Paris and complete the good fortune of our family by uniting him to a woman whom he truly loved. Fincer's letter confirmed that of Tenermill, and made apologies for the manner in which (misled by false information) he had behaved to me. I could hardly believe this news at first. Things seemed to me, however, a little hurried, and though I had no doubts as to the genuineness of the papers Tenermill had sent me, I had some as to whether, since we were in France, the approval of our king and the consent of his English bishops was sufficient for me to act on without reference to our French diocesan. I apprehended no difficulty in getting this, and I determined to set about at once getting the proper permission the two bishops, who represented at from him. I knew that formalities his court our Church in England, but were often abridged in pressing cases, that it seemed to me they ought to be and also that our rank would entitle us supplemented by the approval of our to some relaxation of ecclesiastical dis- French diocesan. These reasons would cipline. have been sufficient to make me resist Yet, pleased as I could not but be at all pressure as to the marriage cerethe prospect of surmounting all our mony, but I had no chance to bring difficulties, I must own that I felt a them forward. Patrick was seizing my little pang in seeing all that I had hand to make me raise it for the nuplabored for and suffered for for months tial benediction, and was imploring me about to be destroyed, but I blamed to make them happy, when the door myself for pride and selfishness, and opened, and Sara Fiucer rushed into prepared to send off a messenger to the room. Patrick, with a letter containing a copy She had escaped from the count's of his brother's, and begging him to house; she had thrown herself into go at once and show the papers it the first carriage she could find, and, enclosed to the proper ecclesiastical having gathered from the servants' authorities, that we might know what talk that Patrick and her rival were to countenance we might hope for from be married that very day, she had hurthe Archbishop of Paris. I was sealing ried with all speed to Les Saisons, to this letter when a servant told me that prevent, if there were time, a marriage Patrick and Mademoiselle de L to which it was false that she had given were driving up to the door. They came in at once, their eyes beaming with happiness, and I saw that the news was already known to them. "Now we are all happy,” cried Patrick. "Fincer has made his daughter consent to our divorce. She is to marry Tenermill. Now marry us, dear brother. We want it to be done this very moment. I will not unclasp my Julie's hand till we have received your benediction." I tried to say something, but he would not hear me. "For God's sake," he cried, "marry us at once. It is the wish of Tenermill and Fincer. Don't you see that if we delay there may arrive obstacles to our happiness ? " her consent. Her father had used violence to obtain her signature. Furious against Patrick, he had been willing to employ any means to deprive him of his daughter. Poor Sara was the victim of his hatred to her husband. In vain she had protested that she would never sign the paper. He shut the door, seized her hand, and guided the pen. Then, giving the paper to Tenermill, who was in another room, he recommended him to lose no time in making use of it. The count had known nothing of Fincer's violence. Tenermill himself had not been aware of the length to which he had carried what he called his "persuasions." Over and over again they have since assured me that I interrupted him as he said this, had they known of the resistance Sara trying to make him understand that in made, and the tears she shed when it a Catholic country, such things could was useless, they would not have pernot be hurried up informally, as he sisted. But Fincer would not let the himself had known them to be in a countess see his daughter, and Tenerland where the law forbade all pub-mill had gone to Saint Germain to the licity to Catholic ceremonies. I might have gone on to say, had I had time, that a private copy of a legal paper hardly seemed to carry with it, in such a case, the necessary authority, that I did not, of course, question the approval of the king, or the opinion of king. Poor Sara thought she saw as soon as she rushed in upon us that the marriage ceremony was in progress. She sprang forward and seized Patrick by the hand. "Are they married?" she cried to me. I had to reply that they |