au de Beaulieu, in the Louis XIII. style, is built of white
stone with red brick dressings. A broad terrace more than five hundred
yards long, with a balustrade in red granite, and decked with parterres
of flowers, becomes a delightful walk in autumn. M. Derblay's ironworks
may have somewhat spoilt the beauty of the landscape, but Beaulieu
remains a highly covetable estate.

Madame de Beaulieu sat in the drawing-room knitting woollen hoods for
the children in the village, while her daughter Claire contemplated,
without seeing it, the admirable horizon before her. At last, turning
her beautiful, sad face to her mother, she asked, "How long is it since
we have had any letters from St. Petersburg?"

"Come," said the marchioness, taking hold of Claire's hands--"come, why
do you always think about that, and torture your mind so?"

"What can I think of," answered Claire bitterly, "but of my betrothed?
And how can I avoid torturing my mind as you say, in trying to divine
the reason of his silence?"

"I own it is difficult to explain," rejoined the marchioness. "After
spending a week with us last year, my nephew, the Duc de Bligny, started
off promising to return to Paris during the winter. He next began by
writing that political complications detained him at his post. Summer
came, but not the duke. Here now is autumn, and Gaston no longer even
favours us with pretences. He does not even trouble to write."

"But supposing he were ill?" Claire ventured to say.

"That is out of the question," replied the marchioness pitilessly. "The
embassy would have informed us. You may be sure he is in perfect health,
and that he led the cotillon all last winter in the ball-rooms of St.
Petersburg."

Claire, forcing herself to smile, said, "It must be confessed, mother,
he is not jealous, and yet I have been courted wherever I have gone, and
am scarcely allowed to remain in peace, even in this desert of Beaulieu.
It would seem I have attracted the attention of our neighbour the
ironmaster."

"Monsieur Derblay?"

"Yes, mother; but his homage is respectful, and I have no cause to
complain of him. I only mentioned him as an example--as one of many. The
duke stays away, and I remain here alone, patient and--"

"And you act very wrongly!" exclaimed the marchioness.

The opportunity of easing her mind was not to be lost, and she told
Claire that if the marriage ever did take place she feared there would
be cause for regret. But her daug