he title of 'Chevalier,' and
together we have led a life of profit, of pleasure, and of charming
variety."

"And I," rejoined the Chevalier, "can boast of a parentage as
distinguished as your own. My father was an English thief and
pickpocket; he took pains to teach me the science of his profession, and
I will venture to affirm that I can remove a gentleman's watch or
pocket-book as gracefully as could my venerated sire himself, whose
career was rather abruptly terminated one fine morning in consequence of
a temporary valet having tied his neckcloth too tightly: he was hung in
front of Newgate jail, for a highway robbery, in which he acquired but
little glory and less profit,--for he only shot an old woman's poodle
dog, and stole a leather purse full of halfpence. My mother was a very
pretty waiting woman at an ordinary tavern; one night she abruptly
stepped out and sailed for America, carrying with her my unfinished
self, and the silver spoons. I saw you--admired you--made you my
mistress, and partner in business, the profitable nature of which is
proved by our being now possessed of the very pretty sum of five
thousand dollars, the result of three hours' operation."

"You have yet one grand stroke of art to accomplish, which will place us
both on the very pinnacle of fortune," said the Duchess. "I allude, of
course, to your approaching marriage with Miss Alice Goldworthy."

The Chevalier's brow darkened, and his handsome features assumed an
expression of uneasiness.

"That," said he, "is the only business in which I ever faltered. Poor
young lady! she is so good, so pure, so confidingly affectionate, that
my heart sinks within me when I think of the ruin which her marriage
with me will bring upon her. When I gaze into her lovely countenance,
and hear the tones of her gentle voice, remorse for the wrong that I
contemplate towards her, strikes me to the soul, and I feel that I am a
wretch indeed."

"Pooh!" exclaimed the Duchess, her lips curling with disdain--"you grow
very sentimental indeed! Perhaps you really _love_ this girl?"

"No, Duchess, no--but I pity her; a devil cannot love an angel. There
was a time when my soul was unstained with guilt or crime--then might I
have aspired to the bliss of loving such a divine creature as Alice; but
now--villain as I am there can be no sympathy between my heart and
hers. Well, well--the die is cast; I will wed her, for I covet the
splendid fortune which she will inherit