Goldworthy's house, he requested to be conducted
immediately to Clarence's chamber. In answer to his inquiries, the young
man stated that the villain who had wounded him was a tall, powerfully
built person, his face almost entirely concealed by a profusion of black
hair. The Corporal rubbed his hands with glee.

"Jew Mike, by the bones of the great Mogul!" he exclaimed--"and now that
I am on the right scent, I shall soon ferret out the ravenous wolves
that have carried my poor lamb to their infernal den. Ah, Corporal
Grimsby, thou art a cunning dog!" So saying, he departed on his
benevolent errand of endeavoring to rescue Fanny Aubrey from the power
of her enemies.

* * * * *

That evening, from every window of Mr. Goldworthy's princely mansion in
Howard street, shone brilliant lights. It was the eve appointed for the
marriage of Alice and the Chevalier Duvall.

In consequence of the melancholy and startling events which took place
in the house on the preceding night--the severe wounding of Clarence,
and the abduction of Fanny--it had been suggested by both Alice and her
father, that it would be proper to defer the performance of the ceremony
for a short time, or until the fate of the missing girl could be
ascertained; the Chevalier, however, strongly opposed this proposition,
and assuming the authority of an accepted suitor, delicately but firmly
insisted that the marriage should take place that evening, as had been
previously arranged "for," said he, "to defer the consummation of our
happiness will not assist in the recovery of Miss Aubrey. When I become
your husband, my Alice, I can with far more propriety aid in seeking the
lost one, for were we to remain unmarried, my interest in the poor young
lady might be imputed to improper or even dishonorable motives."

This reasoning had the desired effect; it was decided that the marriage
ceremony should not be postponed.

Alice had not communicated to the Chevalier the story which Fanny had
told her, concerning the affair of the lost package of money--for as she
utterly disbelieved the tale, (imputing it to the effects of an excited
imagination,) she had no desire to wound the feelings of her lover by
acquainting him with the absurd charge (as she thought) which had been
brought against him. How blind is love to the imperfections, the faults,
and even the crimes of the object of its adoration! We believe it is
Shakespeare who says: