property
on this curious condition, it appeared,--that whoever should marry her
should take the uncle's name of _Courtney_. Don Hernando and the young
lady disappeared; they were married, and he took the name of Courtney,
and was forbidden to return to Madrid. He and his wife settled in Paris,
where I used to meet them frequently; then they travelled, I believe,
and I lost sight of them. I returned to Paris on a visit some few years
ago, and I asked an old friend about the Courtneys; he believed they
were both dead, though he could give me no certain news about them."

"Supposing," said Lefevre, "that this Julius were their son, do you know
of any reason why he should be reserved about his parentage?"

"No," said the old man, "no;--unless it be that Hernando was not
episcopal in his affections; but I should think the young man is
scarcely Puritan enough to be ashamed of that."

Lefevre and the old man both looked round for Julius. They caught sight
of him and Leonora Lefevre standing one on either side of a window, with
their eyes fixed upon each other.

"The young lady," said the old doctor, "seems much taken up with him."

"Yes," said Lefevre; "and she's my sister."

"Ah," said the old doctor; "I fear my remark was rather unreserved."

"It is true," said Lefevre.

He left Dr Rippon, to seek his mother. He found her excited and warm,
and without a word to spare for him.

"You wanted," said he, "some serious talk with me, mother?"

"Oh yes," said she; "but I can't talk seriously now: I can scarcely talk
at all. But do you see how Nora and Julius are taken up with each other?
I never before saw such a pair of moonstruck mortals! I believe I have
heard of the moon having a magnetic influence on people: do you think it
has? But he is a charming man!"--glancing towards Julius--"I'm more than
half in love with him myself. Now I must go. Come quietly one afternoon,
and then we can talk."

Her son abstained from recounting, as he had proposed to himself, what
he had heard from Dr Rippon: he would reserve it for the quiet
afternoon. He took his leave almost immediately, bearing with him a deep
impression--like a strongly bitten etching wrought on his memory--of his
last glimpse of the drawing-room: Nora and Julius set talking across a
small table, and the tall, pale, gaunt figure of Dr Rippon approaching
and stooping between them. It seemed a sinister reminder of the words
the old doctor had addressed to Julius,--"