you."

"Sir," said I, "I am prepared to be misjudged; but while I continue to
accept your hospitality, that fact alone should be enough to protect me
from insult."

"Pardon me," said he: "I offer you marriage." And leaning back in his
chair he replaced his cigar between his lips.

I own I was confounded by an offer, not only so unprepared, but couched
in terms so singular. But he knew very well how to obtain his purposes,
for he was not only handsome in person, but his very coolness had a
charm; and to make a long story short, a fortnight later I became the
wife of the Honourable Henry Luxmore.

For nearly twenty years I now led a life of almost perfect quiet. My
Henry had his weaknesses; I was twice driven to flee from his roof, but
not for long; for though he was easily over-excited, his nature was
placable below the surface, and, with all his faults, I loved him
tenderly. At last he was taken from me; and such is the power of
self-deception, and so strange are the whims of the dying, he actually
assured me, with his latest breath, that he forgave the violence of my
temper!

There was but one pledge of the marriage, my daughter Clara. She had,
indeed, inherited a shadow of her father's failing; but in all things
else, unless my partial eyes deceived me, she derived her qualities from
me, and might be called my moral image. On my side, whatever else I may
have done amiss, as a mother I was above reproach. Here, then, was
surely every promise for the future; here, at last, was a relation in
which I might hope to taste repose. But it was not to be. You will
hardly credit me when I inform you that she ran away from home; yet such
was the case. Some whim about oppressed nationalities--Ireland, Poland,
and the like--has turned her brain; and if you should anywhere encounter
a young lady (I must say of remarkable attractions) answering to the
name of Luxmore, Lake, or Fonblanque (for I am told she uses these
indifferently, as well as many others), tell her, from me, that I
forgive her cruelty, and though I will never more behold her face, I am
at any time prepared to make her a liberal allowance.

On the death of Mr. Luxmore I sought oblivion in the details of
business. I believe I have mentioned that seven mansions, besides this,
formed part of Mr. Luxmore's property: I have found them seven white
elephants. The greed of tenants, the dishonesty of solicitors, and the
incapacity that sits upon the bench, have combine