t; his coat
closely buttoned up, and constantly taking out his pencil?"

"Oh, do you then know him?" cried Julie, whose eyes sparkled with joy.

"No," returned Monte Cristo "I only guessed. I knew a Lord Wilmore, who
was constantly doing actions of this kind."

"Without revealing himself?"

"He was an eccentric being, and did not believe in the existence of
gratitude."

"Oh, heaven," exclaimed Julie, clasping her hands, "in what did he
believe, then?"

"He did not credit it at the period which I knew him," said Monte
Cristo, touched to the heart by the accents of Julie's voice; "but,
perhaps, since then he has had proofs that gratitude does exist."

"And do you know this gentleman, monsieur?" inquired Emmanuel.

"Oh, if you do know him," cried Julie, "can you tell us where he
is--where we can find him? Maximilian--Emmanuel--if we do but discover
him, he must believe in the gratitude of the heart!" Monte Cristo felt
tears start into his eyes, and he again walked hastily up and down the
room.

"In the name of heaven," said Maximilian, "if you know anything of him,
tell us what it is."

"Alas," cried Monte Cristo, striving to repress his emotion, "if Lord
Wilmore was your unknown benefactor, I fear you will never see him
again. I parted from him two years ago at Palermo, and he was then on
the point of setting out for the most remote regions; so that I fear he
will never return."

"Oh, monsieur, this is cruel of you," said Julie, much affected; and the
young lady's eyes swam with tears.

"Madame," replied Monte Cristo gravely, and gazing earnestly on the two
liquid pearls that trickled down Julie's cheeks, "had Lord Wilmore seen
what I now see, he would become attached to life, for the tears you shed
would reconcile him to mankind;" and he held out his hand to Julie, who
gave him hers, carried away by the look and accent of the count. "But,"
continued she, "Lord Wilmore had a family or friends, he must have known
some one, can we not--"

"Oh, it is useless to inquire," returned the count; "perhaps, after all,
he was not the man you seek for. He was my friend: he had no secrets
from me, and if this had been so he would have confided in me."

"And he told you nothing?"

"Not a word."

"Nothing that would lead you to suppose?"

"Nothing."

"And yet you spoke of him at once."

"Ah, in such a case one supposes"--

"Sister, sister," said Maximilian, coming to the count's aid, "monsieur
is quite right.