evidently to be utterly bewildered.

"But how, how can you reconcile that," he said, "with the thoroughly
worldly life of Miss Brandon?"

"Oh, very easily, my dear fellow! and there you see the sublime policy
of the three rogues. To the outer world, Miss Brandon is all levity,
indiscretion, coquettishness, and even worse. She drives herself,
shortens her petticoats, and cuts down her dress-bodies atrociously. She
says she has a right to do as she pleases, according to the code of laws
which govern American young ladies. But at home she bows to the taste
and the wishes of her relative, Mrs. Brian, who displays all the extreme
prudishness of the austerest Puritan. Then she has that stiff, tall Sir
Thorn ever at her side, who never jokes. Oh! they understand each other
perfectly; the parts are carefully distributed, and"--

Daniel showed that he was utterly discouraged.

"There is no way, then, of getting hold of this woman?" he asked.

"I think not."

"But that adventure of which you spoke some time ago?"

"Which? That with poor Kergrist?"

"How do I know which? It was a fearful story; that is all I remember.
What did I, at that time, care for Miss Brandon? Now, to be sure"--

Brevan shook his head, and said,--

"Now, you think that story might become a weapon in your hands? No,
Daniel. Still it is not a very long one; and I can now tell it to you
more in detail than I could before.

"About fifteen months ago, there arrived in Paris a nice young man
called Charles de Kergrist. He had lost as yet none of his illusions,
being barely twenty-five years old, and having something like a hundred
thousand dollars of his own. He saw Miss Brandon, and instantly 'took
fire.' He fell desperately in love with her. What his relations were
with her, no one can tell positively,--I mean with sufficient evidence
to carry conviction to others,--for the young man was a model of
discretion. But what became only too well known was the fact, that,
about eight months later, the people living near Miss Brandon's house
saw one morning, when the shutters were opened, a corpse dangling at a
distance of a few feet above the ground from the iron fastenings of the
lady's window. Upon inspection, the dead man proved to be that unlucky
Kergrist. In the pocket of his overcoat a letter was found, in which he
declared that he committed suicide because an unreturned affection had
made life unbearable to him. Now, this letter--mark the fact--was