suitable marriage.

"I shall gain my end," murmured the girl, "I am sure of it."

She had heard a friend of her father's speaking of Norbert and his
colossal expectations.

"Why should I not marry him?" she asked of her own heart; and, with the
utmost skill, she applied herself to the execution of her design; for
the idea of being a duchess, with an income of two hundred thousand
francs, was a most fascinating one. But how was she to meet Norbert? And
how bring over the money-raking Duke to her side? Before, however, she
could decide on any plan, she felt that she must see Norbert. He was
pointed out to her one day at Mass, and she was struck by his beauty and
by an ease of manner which even his shabby dress could not conceal. By
the quick perception which many women possess, she dived into Norbert's
inmost soul; she felt that he had suffered, and her sympathy for him
brought with it the dawn of love, and by the time she had left the
chapel she had registered a solemn vow that she would one day be
Norbert's wife. But she did not acquaint her parents with this
determination on her part, preferring to carry out her plans without
any aid or advice. Mademoiselle Diana was shrewd and practical, and not
likely to err from want of judgment. The frank and open expression of
her features concealed a mind of superior calibre, and one which well
knew how to weigh the advantages of social rank and position. She
affected a sudden sympathy with the poor, and visited them constantly,
and might be frequently met in the lanes carrying soup and other
comforts to them. Her father declared, with a laugh, that she ought
to have been a Sister of Charity, and did not notice the fact that all
Diana's pensioners resided in the vicinity of Champdoce. But it was
in vain that she wandered about, continually changing the hour of her
visits. The "Savage of Champdoce" was not to be seen, nor was he even
a regular attendant at Mass. At last a mere trifle changed the whole
current of the young man's existence; for, a week after the conversation
in which the Duke had laid bare his scheme to his son, he again referred
to it, after their dinner, which they had partaken of at the same table
with forty laborers, who had been hired to get in the harvest.

"You need not, my son," began the old gentleman, "go back with the
laborers to-day."

"But, sir--"

"Allow me to continue, if you please. My confidential conversation with
you the other night was me