when I tell you that this same Count Pracontal is the
claimant of the Bramleigh estate?"

"Is it possible?"

"It is beyond a question or a doubt. I was awakened from my sleep last
night by their loud talking, and unwittingly made a listener to all
they said. I heard the Frenchman deplore how he had ever consented to a
compromise of his claim, and then Longworth quizzed him a good deal, and
attributed the regret to his not having made a harder bargain. My own
conviction is that the man really felt it as a point of honor, and was
ashamed at having stooped to accept less than his right."

"So then they have made a compromise, and the Bram-leighs are safe?"
cried she, eagerly.

"That much seems certain. The Count even spoke of the sum he had
received. I did not pay much attention to the amount, but I remember
it struck me as being considerable; and he also referred to his having
signed some document debarring him, as it seemed, from all renewal of
his demand. In a word, as you said just now, the Bramleighs are safe,
and the storm that threatened their fate has passed off harmlessly."

"Oh, you have made me so happy, George. I cannot tell you what joy this
news is to me. Poor Nelly, in all her sorrow and privation, has never
been out of my thoughts since I read her letter."

"I have not told you the strangest part of all--at least, so it
certainly seemed to me. This Count Pracontal actually regretted the
compromise, as depriving him of a noble opportunity of self-sacrifice.
He wished, he said, he could have gone to Augustus Bramleigh, and
declared, 'I want none of this wealth. These luxuries and this station
are all essential to you, who have been born to them, and regard them as
part of your very existence. To me they are no wants--I never knew them.
Keep them, therefore, as your own. All I ask is, that you regard me as
one of your kindred and your family. Call me cousin--let me be one of
you--to come here, under your roof, when fortune goes ill with me.' When
he was saying this, Longworth burst out into a coarse laugh, and
told him, that if he talked such rotten sentimentality to any sane
Englishman, the only impression it would have left would be that he was
a consummate knave or an idiot."

"Well, George," asked she, seriously, "that was not the conviction it
conveyed to your mind?"

"No, Julia; certainly not; but somehow--perhaps it is my colder
northern blood, perhaps it is the cautious reserve of one who has