he case at the present
moment. Forgive me; I have now said enough on that subject; give me your
hand, and relate you griefs to me as a friend."

"You say you are French in heart and soul?"

"Yes, not only, I repeat it, that my mother was French, but, further, as
my father, a friend of King Charles I., was exiled in France, I, during
the trial of that prince, as well as during the Protector's life, was
brought up in Paris; at the Restoration of King Charles II., my poor
father returned to England, where he died almost immediately afterwards;
and then the king created me a duchess, and has dowered me according to
my rank.

"Have you any relations in France?" Raoul inquired, with the deepest
interest.

"I have a sister there, my senior by seven or eight years, who was
married in France, and was early left a widow; her name is Madame de
Belliere. Do you know her?" she added, observing Raoul start suddenly.

"I have heard her name."

"She, too, loves with her whole heart; and her last letters inform me
she is happy, and her affection is, I conclude, returned. I told you,
Monsieur de Bragelonne, that although I possess half of her nature, I do
not share her happiness. But let us now speak of yourself; whom do you
love in France?"

"A young girl, as soft and pure as a lily."

"But if she loves you, why are you sad?"

"I have been told that she ceases to love me."

"You do not believe it, I trust?"

"He who wrote me so does not sign his letter."

"An anonymous denunciation! some treachery, be assured," said Miss
Grafton.

"Stay," said Raoul, showing the young girl a letter which he had read
over a thousand times; she took it from his hand and read as follows:

"VICOMTE,--You are perfectly right to amuse yourself yonder with the
lovely faces of Charles II.'s court, for at Louis XIV.'s court, the
castle in which your affections are enshrined is being besieged. Stay in
London altogether, poor vicomte, or return without delay to Paris."

"There is no signature," said Miss Mary.

"None."

"Believe it not, then."

"Very good; but here is a second letter, from my friend De Guiche, which
says, 'I am lying here wounded and ill. Return, Raoul, oh, return!'"

"What do you intend doing?" inquired the young girl, with a feeling of
oppression at her heart.

"My intention, as soon as I received this letter, was immediately to
take my leave of the king."

"When did you receive it?"

"The day before yesterday."