succeeded Mr. Nixon, sir, who often spoke of
you."

"Ah, I remember Nixon. What became of him?"

"He set up the Hotel Victoria at Spa, sir. You know, sir, that he
married, and married very well too?"

"No, I never heard of it," said I, carelessly.

"Yes, sir; he married Delorme's daughter, la belle Pauline they used to
call her at Brussels."

"What, Pauline Delorme?" said I, growing crimson with I know not what
feeling.

"Yes, sir, the same; and she's the size of old Pierre, her father,
already: not but she's handsome still,--but such a monster!"

I cannot say with what delight I heard of her disfigurement. It was a
malice that warmed my heart like some good news.

"It was Sir Roger, sir, that made the match."

"How could that be? What could he care about it?"

"Well, sir, he certainly gave Nixon five hundred pounds to go and
propose for her, and promise old Pierre his patronage, if he agreed to
it."

"Are you sure of this?" asked I, eagerly.

"Nixon himself told me, sir. I remember he said, 'I haven't much time to
lose about it, for the tutor, Mr. Eccles, is quite ready to take her, on
the same terms, and Sir Roger doesn't care which of us it is."

"Nor the lady either, apparently," said I, half angrily.

"Of course not. Pauline was too well brought up for that."

I was not going to discuss this point of ethics with Mr. La Grange, and
soon fell off into a vein of reflection over early loves, and what they
led to, which took me at last miles away from Pauline Delorme, and her
fascinations.

I would have liked much to learn what sort of a life my father had led
of late: whether he had plunged into habits of dissipation and excess;
or whether any feeling of remorse had weighed with him, and that he
sorrowed over the misery and the sorrow he had so recklessly shed around
him; but I shrunk from questioning a servant on such matters, and merely
asked as to his habitual spirits and temper.

"Sir Roger was unlike every other gentleman I ever lived with, sir,"
said he. "He was never in high spirits except when he was hard up for
money. Put him down in a little country inn to wait for his remittances,
and live on a few francs a day till they arrived, and I never saw his
equal for good humor. He 'd play with the children; he 'd work in the
garden. I 've seen him harness the donkey, and go off for a load of
firewood. There's nothing he would not do to oblige, and with a kind
word and a smile for every one al