r before met the old libertine at the house of Mr.
Goldworthy; and (until informed of the fact by Fanny,) was ignorant that
he (Tickels) was in the habit of visiting there, as a friend of the
family. He treated him with coldness and reserve; but otherwise gave no
indication of the contempt which he felt for the unprincipled old
wretch.

As Mr. Goldworthy surveyed, with a smiling aspect, the sociable group
which surrounded him, little did he suspect that the man who on the
morrow was to become his son-in-law--who was to lead to the altar his
only child, that pure and gentle girl--little, we say, did he suspect
that the Chevalier Duvall was in reality a branded villain of the
blackest dye--a man whose soul was stained by the commission of almost
every crime on the dark catalogue of guilt. And as little did he think
that his warm political and personal friend, the Honorable Timothy
Tickels--the man of ample wealth, of unbounded influence, of exalted
reputation--was at heart an abandoned and licentious scoundrel, who had
basely tried to accomplish the ruin of a poor orphan girl, and was even
at that very moment gloating over an infernal plan which he had formed,
for getting her completely in his power, where no human aid was likely
to reach her.

"To-morrow, my Alice," whispered the Chevalier in the ear of the
blushing object of his villainous designs--"to-morrow, thou are mine!
Oh, the devotion of a life-time shall atone to you for the sacrifice you
make, in wedding an unknown stranger, whose birth and fortunes are
shrouded in a veil of mystery."

"Thy birth and fortunes are nothing to me," responded Alice, softly, as
a tear of happiness trembled in her eyes--"so long as thy heart is
faithful and true."

What wonder that the Chevalier's false heart grew cold in his breast, at
the simple words of the confiding, gentle, unsuspecting creature whom he
designed to ruin? But still he hesitated not; "her father's gold is the
glittering prize which I shall gain by this marriage," thought he; and
the vile, sordid thought stimulated him on, despite the remonstrances of
his better nature.

"When I return to the University, we will write to each other often,
will we not?" said Clarence Argyle to Fanny, in a tone that could not be
overheard by the others of the party; and the fair girl yielded a
blushing consent to the proposal, so congenial to her own inclination.
The whisper and the blush were both observed by old Tickels, who