outcome
of the inquiry which he had begged a Paris friend to institute with
reference to the family of Longueville, he thought it his duty to warn
his daughter to behave prudently. The fatherly admonition was received
with mock submission spiced with irony.

"At least, my dear Emilie, if you love him, do not own it to him."

"My dear father, I certainly do love him; but I will await your
permission before I tell him so."

"But remember, Emilie, you know nothing of his family or his pursuits."

"I may be ignorant, but I am content to be. But, father, you wished to
see me married; you left me at liberty to make my choice; my choice is
irrevocably made--what more is needful?"

"It is needful to ascertain, my dear, whether the man of your choice
is the son of a peer of France," the venerable gentleman retorted
sarcastically.

Emilie was silent for a moment. She presently raised her head, looked at
her father, and said somewhat anxiously, "Are not the Longuevilles----?"

"They became extinct in the person of the old Duc de Rostein-Limbourg,
who perished on the scaffold in 1793. He was the last representative of
the last and younger branch."

"But, papa, there are some very good families descended from bastards.
The history of France swarms with princes bearing the bar sinister on
their shields."

"Your ideas are much changed," said the old man, with a smile.

The following day was the last that the Fontaine family were to spend at
the Pavillon Planat. Emilie, greatly disturbed by her father's warning,
awaited with extreme impatience the hour at which young Longueville was
in the habit of coming, to wring some explanation from him. She went out
after dinner, and walked alone across the shrubbery towards an arbor fit
for lovers, where she knew that the eager youth would seek her; and
as she hastened thither she considered of the best way to discover so
important a matter without compromising herself--a rather difficult
thing! Hitherto no direct avowal had sanctioned the feelings which bound
her to this stranger. Like Maximilien, she had secretly enjoyed the
sweetness of first love; but both were equally proud, and each feared to
confess that love.

Maximilien Longueville, to whom Clara had communicated her not unfounded
suspicions as to Emilie's character, was by turns carried away by the
violence of a young man's passion, and held back by a wish to know and
test the woman to whom he would be entrusting his happi