for some
years."

"I would humbly suggest to your Excellency that, as the ceremony still
waits----"

"I wish it, Marquis," said Mrs. Graham, in a tone half-command,
half-entreaty; and, with a deep bow of submission, Salvatori and his
friend withdrew, accompanied by the chaplain.

"The title by which you have just addressed that person, Mrs. Graham,"
said I, in a voice trembling from agitation, "shews me how you have been
duped and deceived by him, and in what total ignorance you are as to his
real character."

"Oh, Mr. Templeton!" broke in her daughter, now speaking for the
first time, and in accents I shall never forget, such was their
heart-thrilling earnestness,--"Oh, sir, this does indeed exceed the
license of even old friendship! We are well aware how the Marquis of
Salvatori has suffered from persecution; but we little expected to have
found _you_ among the number of his enemies."

"You do me great wrong, Miss Graham," said I, eagerly; "in nothing
greater than supposing me capable of being the enemy of such a man
as this. Unworthy as the sentiment is, it at least implies a sense of
equality. Now, are you certain of what this person is? are you aware
in what capacity he has been employed by our government, and by that of
other countries?"

"We know that the Marquis has been engaged in secret missions," said
Miss Graham, proudly.

"Your reply, brief as it is, conveys two errors, Miss Graham. He is not
a Marquis; little as the title often implies in Italy, he has no right
to it. He asked Lord William Bentinck to let him call himself Marquis,
and so to address him, as a means of frequenting circles where important
information was accessible. Lord William said, 'Call yourself what
you please--Grand Duke, if you like it--I am no dispenser of such
designations.' The gentleman was modest;--he stopped at Marquis. As
to his diplomatic functions, we have a short and expressive word for
them;--he was and is, a Spy!"

Not heeding the scornful reception of the daughter, I turned towards
Mrs. Graham, and, with all the power I possessed, urged her, at least,
to defer this fatal step;--that she was about to bestow her child upon a
man of notoriously degraded character, and one whose assumption of rank
and position was disregarded and despised in the very humblest circles.
The mother wept bitterly; at one moment, turning to dissuade her
daughter from her rashness, at the next, appealing to me against
what she called my