_brother_ cannot of course be such a pleasant companion to a lady,
as--as--I had almost said a _lover_. In truth, I am willing to confess
that you are a dear, delightful old gentleman, and I am half in love
with you already. Nay, don't squeeze my hand so, or I shall repent
having made the declaration."

"You are a sweet creature," rejoined Tickels--"and very cruel for having
afforded me a glimpse of heaven, and then shut out the prospect from my
longing gaze. But tell me, how is it that you and your brother are so
completely isolated in society? Certainly you must have relatives and
many friends; yet you complain of solitude. If my question is not
impertinent, will you tell me?--for a woman of your extraordinary beauty
and accomplishments never finds it difficult to surround herself with a
circle of admirers, and loneliness is an evil with which she never need
be afflicted. To say merely that I feel interested in you, would fail to
express the degree of admiration with which I regard you; and it would
afford me an unspeakable pleasure to hear the history of your life, from
those rosy lips."

"Alas!" exclaimed the Duchess, as a tear dim'd for a moment the lustre
of her fine eyes--"my story is but a short and sad one. Such as it is,
however, you shall have it. I was born beneath the fair skies of sunny
France; my parents were noble and rich--my father, the Duke D'Alvear,
could even boast of royal blood in his veins, while my mother was
closely allied to several of the most aristocratic families in the
kingdom. Reared in the lap of luxury, my childhood passed like a
pleasant dream, with nothing to disturb its quiet, until I had reached
my fifteenth year, at which period I lost both my parents by a
catastrophe so sudden, so dreadful, that when you hear its particulars,
you will not blame me for weeping as I do now." Here the lady's voice
was broken by many sobs--but she soon recovered her composure, and
continued her narrative.

"My mother was beautiful but frail--which was in her case peculiarly
unfortunate, for my father was the most jealous of men. He had reason to
suppose that a handsome young Count was too intimate with her; keeping
his suspicions profoundly secret, he made preparations for a long
journey, and having announced his intention of remaining abroad several
months, he departed from Paris. That very night, at midnight, he
abruptly returned, proceeded directly to my mother's chamber, and found
the Count St