er and myself--two poor
orphans, who, but for your benevolence, would be dependent upon the
world's cold charity. My gratitude I can never express; my heart alone
can feel it--but oh! believe me, I would gladly lay down my life to
promote your happiness. How, then, can I see future years of misery
awaiting you, without tears of anguish--without feeling an intense
anxiety to preserve you from a fate ten times worse than death?"

"Do not interrupt me, I pray you," continued Fanny, seeing that Alice
was about to speak--"To-morrow you are engaged to be married to the man
calling himself the Chevalier Duvall. When I first saw him, I was struck
with his beauty and accomplishments--his brilliant wit, and graceful
manners; and when, in sisterly confidence, you informed me that he was
your affianced husband, you know how warmly I congratulated you on
having won the affections of a man who, as I then believed, was in every
way calculated to make you happy.

"Alice, I tell you that man is a villain!" cried Fanny, with startling
emphasis--"I saw him pick your father's pocket of the money that was
lost; yes, I alone saw him do it; _that_ was the cause of my agitation
and tears. Do not marry him, for he is a robber and a scoundrel!"

"Say no more, Miss Aubrey," said Alice, rising with an air of cold
dignity, which plainly indicated her entire disbelief of the statement
she had just heard--"Say no more: you have mistaken your position, when
you seek to prejudice me against a gentleman whom I am so soon to call
my husband. Nay, not a word more--I will not listen to you. The
Chevalier Duvall is the very soul of honor; and to accuse _him_--how can
I say it?--of the crime of _theft_, is so preposterous that it would be
ludicrous under any other circumstances. Fanny, I can scarcely believe
that you have been actuated by _jealousy_ in telling this dreadful
story; I will try to think that your eyes deceived you, and that you
really _thought_ that you saw the Chevalier do as you have said. But oh!
how mistaken you are, unhappy girl! when you impute such a crime to one
of the noblest and best of men."

"But, Miss Alice," cried Fanny, almost angrily--for she was certain of
the truth of her statement--"I tell you that I am not mistaken; I saw--"

"Silence, I entreat--I command you!" cried the young lady, now
thoroughly indignant at the disgraceful accusation which had been
brought against her lover--"speak not another word to me on this odio