remind you that you had forgotten every body on
the other side of the Channel who was worth remembering, including
herself; and commending _me_, as a truant and a trifler, to your
especial, grave, and experienced protection. Apropos! She sent me a
letter, to be delivered to you with my own hands. But for yourself it
had nearly failed in the delivery."

He gave me the letter. It was, like the writer, a pretty _melange_;
trifles gracefully expressed; strong sense expressed like trifles;
feeling carried off with a laugh; and palpable and fond anxiety for
Lafontaine couched in the most merciless badinage. While I gave this
missive a second, and even a third perusal--for it finished with some
gentle mention of the being whose name was a charm to my wearied
spirit--my eyes accidentally fell on Lafontaine. His were fixed on me
with an expression of inconceivable distress. At length his generous
nature broke forth.

"Marston, if I were capable of jealousy, I should be jealous of _you_
and of Mariamne. What _can_ be the caprice which dictated that letter?
what _can_ be the interest which you evidently take in it? I wish that
the bullet which laid me at your door this evening had finished its
work, and put an end to an existence which has been a perpetual fever. I
shall not ask _what_ Mariamne has said to you--but _I_ am miserable."

"Yes, but you _shall_ ask, and shall have all you ask," said I, giving
him the letter. "It is the language of the heart, and of a heart
strongly attached to _you_. I can see affection in every line of it. Of
course she mingles a little coquetry with her sentiment; but was there
ever a pretty woman, who was not more or less a coquette? She is a gem:
never think it the less pure because it sparkles. Rely upon your little
Mariamne."

"Then _you_ have no sincere regard for her--no wish to interfere with my
claims?" said my pallid friend, dubiously extending his hand towards me.

"Lafontaine, listen to me, and for the last time on the subject. I have
a very sincere regard for her." (My sensitive auditor started.) "But, I
have also a perfect respect for your claims. It is impossible not to
acknowledge the animated graces of the lady on whom you have fixed your
affections. But mine are fixed where I have neither hope to sustain
them, nor power to change.--Those matters have nothing to do with
choice. They are effects without a cause, judgments without a reason,
influences without an impulse--the probl