Saint-Simon, whose testimony on such a point was worth having, assures us, a thoroughly upright, honourable, and honest man; - which made his success at court all the more singular and unac means that his marquisate counted for|- in the seventeenth or the nineteenth nothing. It rendered him the fellow-crea- century. He was one of the handsomest ture of the population of Versailles cour- men of his time. And moreover, like tiers. It made many things possible for that other "singular personage," to whom him which would, but for it, have been im- the aptness of Saint-Simon's description possible. It was possible for the king to tempted us to compare him somewhat unspeak to him, even in tête-à-tête. It was justly, he was noted as being the bestpossible to conceive the notion of his be-dressed man about the court. Added to ing insulted, and of the necessity of "giv- this, he had a special reputation in aning him the satisfaction of a gentleman." other line, which perhaps was no less useIt was possible for him to hold a commis- ful to him. He was notorious as one of sion in the army. He was, in short, really the greatest duellists of the day; and the looked upon by all the courtier world, renown which attached to this character from the king downwards, as a human be- was not a little enhanced by the circuming having certain rights, and of the same stance that all duelling was severely prospecies, at least, as themselves. All this hibited by Louis XIV. His many affairs was due to his marquisate, his gentle of this sort had acquired for him the sobriblood, as we should say. But naissance quet of "Le Brave Cavoie, - a distinction distinguée was quite another matter. which his really gallant conduct "in the It is also rather curious to observe, that Low Countries" would never have suf Saint-Simon calls this "singular person-ficed to obtain for him. He was withal, as age" a man sans services. Now Cavoie had distinguished himself considerably in the wars, "in the Low Countries" of course, so much so that he had gained the special regard of Turenne, and that upon one occasion, when it was erroneous-countable. ly supposed that he had been killed, majesty itself condescended to remark, on bearing it, "Ah, how sorry Turenne will be!" Clearly, according to our notions, it could not have been said of this man that he had "seen no service." What could Saint-Simon have meant, then, when he said of him that he was sans services? He must have meant that the "singular personage" had never been honoured by any appointment,-to stand behind the king's chair:to hand the royal shirt to the groom of the chambers, who handed it to the first lord in waiting, who put it over the sacred shoulders, when majesty donned itself; to tell the gold stick to tell the silver stick to tell the usher to tell the page to tell the valet to tell the cook that dnner might be served; or, in short, any of those charges" about the royal person or household which really did ennoble a man, and give him some claims on the country. These were the "services" which Cavoie had not rendered, and the absence of which made it so strange that he should have pushed his fortunes at court. That he should have been knocked about, and risked life and limb away down in the Low Countries, was very little to the purpose. One recommendation, however, Cavoie had, which his want of distinguished birth and want of services could not deprive him of, a recommendation which is equally available in the court or the camp, He did not remain to the end of his career" without service," for he was at last made "Grand Maréchal des Logis de la Maison du Roi;" and "the romance which was the means of obtaining this appointment for him," says Saint-Simon, deserves not to be forgotten." There was in those same days at the court of Versailles a certain Mademoiselle de Coetlogon, in the capacity of one of the maids of honour of the Queen Marie Thérèse. She was a Breton, as is evident from her name, and belonged to a noble family, which, like so many others of that sea-bound province, had distinguished itself in the naval service. Now this poor Bretonne old maid seems to have been a sort of butt at the court. She was very plain; and what naturally added to the absurdity of her position and character, she was known and admitted to be thoroughly discreet and virtuous. Further, she was, as Saint-Simon testifies, simpleminded, very good-natured, and, though not a little laughed at, really much liked au fond. It can hardly be doubted that poor Coetlogon, as they called her, was somewhat out of place at Versailles. Probably her poverty made acceptable to her a life which, with the exception of a nunnery, was pretty well the only convenable one that a penniless and fatherless noble giri could find. Brittany is a very poor province; its nobles are for the most part "I thought-well, it does not matter. Hugh is an older friend than I am, after all.' "Poor fellow! Yes: but are you not now an old friend too?" "I wish he would think so." "And does he not?" "That unfashionable marriages made in the teeth of the world erally the happiest ones. Do you think me very romantic for a lawyer?" 66 Well-perhaps I do, a little! I was afraid you were going to laugh at me." "Ah, a lawyer is not so unromantic a being as you may imagine. And perhaps he is the more apt to believe in romance even than other men, because he sees into the hidden depths of men's lives: because he sees below the surface that society has laid over them. It is boys and the inexperienced who laugh at Poetry wise men know that it is poets after all who are the wisest of men." - your words have Miss Raymond looked at him quickly. “You see men are not apt to think too She felt that he was not altogether confinjustly of those who rise, however unwill-ing himself to an abstract question. ingly, upon their fall. And I thought some- He saw her look, and said with studied how, when I last met you - when he came abruptness to youthat it is so difficult to say- "Miss Raymond that, to speak plainly, I was treated as given me a strange hope." though, having shared your anxieties, I should be ill-pleased to share your happiness. There, I have made my confession, and am glad to find that it was not needed." She could not but guess what was coming. Indeed for that matter she might have expected it long ago and yet even now she had not made up her mind as to her answer. She could not trust her heart, Miss Raymond blushed, for the com- which, though fond of freedom and not inplaint was not altogether without founda-clined to yield, was still far from being intion. Somehow, though her reason and clined to be cruel. And yet, though she her inclination were on Warden's side, some instinct within her had certainly proved his enemy on the occasion to which he referred. felt embarrassed, she showed no outward sign that she even suspected what he was going to say. Girls like her have a marvellous power of self-control when they feel themselves to hold such a situation in their own hands, and to be able to surrender, to postpone the surrender, or not to She held out her hand. "I am afraid we were thinking too much of ourselves," she said. "I know-Miss Clare must know that there is no one so much en-surrender at all, just as they please. Antitled to share in her happiness as you." "Thanks indeed!" he said, taking her hand and retaining it for an instant. "You are right in that. So they are really reconciled?" gélique would have driven her lover at once to the point at which she intended him to arrive: Marie would have listened like a timid child: but Miss Raymond listened as all women but one in ten thousand would listen. She was excited, but outwardly composed: and she was equally prepared either to accept or to refuse. I wonder whether you guess what I mean ?" he went on. "I have long dreamed, without daring to hope - how indeed could I dare?"—"I feel," he continued, after another moment, during which she was silent, neither aiding him nor preventing his saying what he had to say, "that I am in no way your equal in the way that the world talks of equality. Whatever I may be now, whatever in time I hope to be, you are still Miss Raymond of New Court-a great lady, who might be still greater if she chose. You are beautiful, you are good, it is not only to me that you are the first of all women in the world. No-I do not know how to flatter. And I well, I am a gentleman, I hope, but still a poor fellow who has to make his way by his own hands and brains. I have done something, even now: and I trust to do a great deal more. But in the course of things it must be years before I can become what the world would call the equal of Miss Raymond. How indeed should I ever be? I have hundreds of faults-no one can fight the world with its own weapons and not bear some marks of the conflict. But I am ambitious also -is that a fault in your eyes? And my ambition is to live a life that shall not be unworthy even of you. May your words, then, really give me hope: may I at least feel that in my battle with the world I am fighting not for myself but for you— that every battle draws me nearer to He spoke with a seriousness that did admirable duty for something more. She was still silent: but he felt that he had taken the right line so far. It was with an appearance of greater confidence that he continued, "I am not speaking wildly. Thank God, you at least are not bound by the laws of the world! Yes-I love you with all my soul. That, at least, makes me your equal in the highest way of all. I do not ask you to say to me now all that I trust one day to hear you say. But I do ask you to tell me to live." In spite of her old instinct, that refused to be allayed, she was strongly moved: for he had made love to her in the very way that was most calculated to move a girl with no nonsense about her. He had talked no nonsense: he had not raved: he had spoken like a man, earnestly and to the point. Moreover, he had claimed all due respect for himself, while he had yielded ample respect to her. He had also avoided the grand mistake of protesting disinterested motives- a course which always has the ring of self-accusation. The superiority that he had conceded to her was no more than the superiority which a man may always concede to a woman without prejudice to his claim to be her master. And as she really believed in his superiority, she was really flattered by his Concession; and she had lived too much "I know that you must think me presumptuous "Indeed I do not." "You give me that hope, then? If you but knew how I love you! Her hesitation had really filled him with something like genuine warmth: but as his earnestness increased, so also did her hesitation. She was beginning to feel herself not quite so much mistress of the situation as she supposed. Indeed, if she had expected to play him and to land or not land him as she pleased, she found herself mistaken: and her reason and her generous instincts alike acted as his strong allies. Nothing would please her better than to bestow herself and New Court upon a strong man who would give as much as he received: and his being her social inferior was in harmony with her special form of romance. It must be remembered that all this occurred in days when English young ladies acquired that reputation for sentiment which in these they appear to be trying so hard to lose. And so, in so far as she found her garrison somewhat rebellious to her command, she "Dearest Alice thanks! he said, with that assumption of triumph that goes far to bring about the triumph that it assumes, and with just enough warmth of manner to show that he knew what he had gained. "It will now be the work of my whole life to make myself worthy of being the happiest man on earth. I need press you no more at present it is enough that you know me to be yours for ever. When shall I see you again? Tomorrow? But it must be soon, for I shall have to leave London for a few daysand then 99 But what was to happen then he was not permitted to say. He had reached his point just in time; for the footman just then entered the room and handed Miss Raymond another card. "Mrs. Lester?" she said. "Show her up at once. Excuse me," she said, again turning to Warden, who looked annoyed. "It is only Angélique, who wishes to see me at once." "Shall I go? And about to-morrow?" Angélique entered. If circumstances had altered Barton for the better, her they had proportionately altered for the worse. She was dressed carelessly, and looked anxious, and worn, and ill. So different did she look from her usual self that Miss Raymond, pre-occupied as she was, observed it as soon as she entered. "My dear Angélique," exclaimed the latter, embracing her. "Is anything the matter has anything happened-have you heard anything about Marie?" Angélique recognized the presence of Warden by a look only, which he acknowledged by a slight bow. He did not think it necessary to go away, as Miss Raymond had not yet answered his last question: and he thought he might perhaps learn something if he stayed. He was not in the least afraid of Mrs. Lester, but still she might have come to indulge in a little more of the wild talk with which she had lately favoured him, and he preferred that she should do so while he was by. "Happened!" she exclaimed, "Oh, Miss Raymond, everything seems to happen now that is strange. I saw Hugh yesterday — after he had been with you. He then left me- and since then I have not seen him — him, who had never left me for an hour without my knowing where he was." "If you would She took the letter to the window and read, while Warden leaned against the mantelpiece, and Angélique threw herself into an easy-chair in an attitude of despair which looked to him theatrical, but was in reality genuine. For the first time she permitted herself to be natural before the eyes of a man: but, even so, the force of habit gave to her very naturalness an artificial guise. The letter was by no means long: but it seemed to take a long time to read. When Miss Raymond had finished, "This reads strangely indeed!” she said, returning to Angélique, who rose from her chair. "This from Hugh? It is impossible-there must surely be some mistake some misunderstanding. Angélique shook her head. "To leave me so!" was all she could say in answer. "And there is no clue to where he is gone?" "None. As you see, the letter is not even dated. And if you do not know "I? How should any one, if not you?" She paused, and then said, hesitatingly, Perhaps Mr. Warden could advise us? Have you any objection Angélique shot at Warden a fierce look full of meaning, which seemed to say, "Is it possible that you can be at the bottom of this also?" But she was in a mood to catch at straws: and if he did know anything the extent of his knowledge and of his influence in the matter could only be ascertained by her avoiding any appearance of mistrust or reserve. Of course she did not reason this out: but she was by instinct a diplomatist, and she felt that, for once, she could afford to be open, if it was only because for once she had nothing to conceal. "If I can be of any service," he said, answering her look by one of deprecation. "May I?" and as she was still silent, he took the letter from Miss Raymond and read to himself as follows: "I am on the point of leaving England for ever. I will not distress you with my reasons. You will have seen as well as I that our remaining together after what has passed between us would be wrong. I have had a hard lesson: but it must be borne. I will only say that I will stand in your way no more. Perhaps you will soon be rid of me altogether: any way, I must relieve you of me so far as I can. If you only knew how I loved you - how I trusted you — from what a drem you have woke me! And even now, if any prospects were before me such se you would care to share, you should still share them. But to condemn you to share such as I have is out of the question now: I must not give you cause to complain that you are tied for life to a stupid fellow who has shown himself unab to help himself— much less you — or that I am so selfish a cur as to force myself upon one to whom my love is only a thing to be used and despised. Even if I were willing to lose my own d-respect and to deserve to lose that of others, I must not be so base and cruel to you. For your sake I wish that our marriage could be ved: but as that cannot be, I must be actent with now doing for you the little that is possible, and with trying to forget how I have aved you, if I can. You shall be burdened no more with one whom you do not love, and he only drags you down. Good-bye and may you be as happy in your own way as I Wished to make you in mine. "HUGH LESTER." Warden read it once again: even he was surprised and even Angélique, who watched him narrowly, could not but admit that his surprise was unaffected. She could not see the one momentary flash of triumph that came into his eyes when he found fate thus fighting for him indeed. The scoundrel!" he exclaimed aloud. Alique's eyes also flashed for a moment -she had learned many things from her desolation of the morning, and the letter Lad wounded her soul just where it was ening-just where it was beginning to raw a new and strange life from its very desolation. No, Mrs. Lester," he went I do not ask your pardon for so peaking of one who, though he is called your husband, is for that very reason all the more a scoundrel. So this is the price of Miss Clare's forgiveness! Take my advice, Mrs. Lester let him go." Miss Raymond stared with amazement. "You think "she began. "Is it not plain enough? Hugh has had to choose between his wife and Earl's Dene: and he has acted prudently." And so indeed it seemed. But Miss Raymond was not easily satisfied when she was called upon to condemn. "But Angélique," she said, "surely there must be something: he seems to allude to something that you must understand "But," said Warden, "she is his wife and he deserts her in his prosperity. For my part, I find the mystery only too plain." "But have you no idea of what he means?" asked Miss Raymond again of Angélique. 66 None - -none in the least. And if you cannot help me "Ah, we will help you," said Warden, "never fear. Lester will not disappear, I fancy, for very long. By leaving England, I take it, he means London: and by 'for ever,' perhaps as much as a month. The heir of Earl's Dene is not likely to be an exile." "And what do you advise?" asked Miss Raymond. He considered for a moment, and then drew himself up. "I said I would come to you to-morrow," he said. "But now -I will do something else first. Yes, Mrs. Lester - I am selfish enough to welcome this opportunity of being able to prove to you also that I am a better friend to you and to yours than I fear you have taken me for. You shall be righted-never fear. And then?" he asked, as he turned once more to Miss Raymond. Angélique was mystified and confused. She had had good cause to mistrust Warden: and she had no reason to place more confidence in him now. But her strength and clearness of purpose seemed to have left her: she had lost the game and her head at the same time. Besides, she was very unlike her old mistress in the matter of unwillingness to suspect evil: according to her reading of human nature in general Warden's opinion of Hugh's conduct was natural and probable enough, and she felt, though as yet vaguely, that her own had rendered his only too excusable. If she could only communicate once more with Hugh by any means, she made a sort of unconscious vow that she would throw to the winds the very remnant of her old |