my duty to your parents and to you--"

Here it ended abruptly. There was no name, and it was evidently
unfinished.

CHAPTER VI.

A FRENCH FRIGATE.

Mimi read both papers through rapidly and breathlessly, and having
finished them, she read them over once more. As she finished the
second reading, Claude presented to her in silence a small package.
She took it in the same silence. On opening it, she saw inside a
miniature portrait of a lady--the same one which Claude had
mentioned. She was young and exquisitely beautiful, with rich dark
hair, that flowed luxuriantly around her head; soft hazel eyes, that
rested with inexpressible sweetness upon the spectator; and a gentle,
winning smile. This face produced an unwonted impression upon Mimi.
Long and eagerly did she gaze upon it, and when, at length, she
handed it back to Claude, her eyes were moist with tears.

Claude replaced the portrait in its wrapper, and then restored it,
with the letters, to his pocket. For some time they sat in silence,
and then Claude said,--

"You see there is no great duty laid on me. Judging by the tone of
that letter, I should be doing my duty to my father if I did not go
to France--and if I did not seek after anything."

"Ah! but how could you possibly live, and leave all this
unexplained?"

"I could do it very easily," said Claude.

"You don't know yourself."

"O, yes, I could; I could live very easily and very happily--if I
only had your assistance."

At these words, which were spoken in a low, earnest voice, full of
hidden meaning, Mimi darted a rapid glance at Claude, and caught his
eyes fixed on her. Her own eyes fell before the fervid eagerness of
the young man's gaze, a flush overspread her face, and she said not a
word. Nor did Claude say anything more just then; but it was rather
as though he felt afraid of having gone too far, for he instantly
changed the subject.

"I'm afraid," said he, "that I shall not be able to find out very
much. You cannot give me any enlightenment, and there is nothing very
precise in these papers. The chief thing that I learned from them was
the fact that Jean Motier was not my father, but my guardian. Then a
few other things are stated which can easily be mentioned. First,
that my father was the Count Eugene de Montresor; then that he was
driven to exile by some false charge which he did not seem able to
meet; then, that his estates were confiscated; then, that his wife,
my mother,