of our engagement as yet; because—you
do not need to be told why. But I
shall assuredly be Princess de' Barletti,
Maud."

Maud's mind was in such a chaos of
astonishment that she could hardly speak. It
all seemed incredible. But she clung to the
only hopeful point she could discern, and
repeated once more, " He is good, and you
do really love him, Veronica?"

"I tell you there is nothing in the world
he would not do for me," said Veronica, a
little sharply.

Her soft mood was wearing away. Maud
did not show herself sufficiently delighted:
by no means sufficiently impressed.
Astonished she was, truly. But not quite
in the right manner.

"And—and is he in Naples now, your
cousin?"

"In Naples!" still more sharply. " Certainly
not. He is here."

"Oh! I did not know it. I had not
heard of it, Veronica."

"I had no other male relative to whom I
could look for due protection and support,"
said Veronica, with some bitterness.

At this moment a servant appeared,
saying that Miss Desmond was waited for.

"I must go, dear. Indeed I must," said
Maud, springing up. "And I have not
said half that I wanted to say to you. I
will write. Tell me where I can write to
you."

Veronica dismissed the servant who was
lingering near the door, and bade him say
that Miss Desmond would come
immediately. Then she kissed and embraced
Maud, and told her that a letter sent to the
care of Mr. Simpson would always find her.

"God bless you, Maudie! Thank you
for coming. How you hasten! Ah, this
Hugh is a tyrant! Cannot he be kept
waiting for a moment?"

"Good-bye, dear Veronica. Think of
what I have said about Uncle Charles!
If you would but try to see him before we
go. God bless you. Good-bye!"

Maud drew down her veil to hide her
tearful eyes as she went swiftly down the
staircase. Veronica stole out after her, and
looking over the banisters into the lighted
hall, saw Hugh Lockwood standing there:
saw Maud run up to him: saw the face of
protecting fondness he turned upon the girlish
figure at his side: saw the quiet trustful
gesture with which she laid her hand upon
his arm, and they went away together. And
then Veronica Lady Gale turned back into
her own room, and throwing herself on her
knees beside the chair that Maud had sat
in, and burying her hot face in its cushions,
yielded herself up to a tearless paroxysm
of rage, and yearning, and regret. And
the staid Louise was much surprised next
day to find her mistress's delicate
cambric handkerchief all torn and jagged—just,
she declared, as though some creature had
bitten it.

PARIS IN 1830.

IN TWO CHAPTERS. CHAPTER II.

In the desperate onslaughts of
Wednesday many of the people lost their lives by
their own impetuosity. Those who were
behind, furiously drove on pell-mell, trampling
down, and crushing to death, those who
had fallen, either from stumbling, or from
shot, bayonet, or lance. This was especially
the case near the great Greek facade of the
Madeleine. When the storm of fighting had
passed, there remained on that spot a ghastly
mound of one hundred and fifty bodies of
men who had lost their foothold, and been
literally trodden to death. It was hot July
weather, and within two hours these began
to decompose. During the night they were
removed and buried.

On Wednesday evening Lady Stuart de
Rothesay left Paris, and the English began
to depart in crowds: many of them, as the
bureaus were closed, and no passports
were issued, without passports. At the
barriers the people stopped them, made
them cry " Vive la Charte!" and tore the
fleur-de-lis from the jackets of their postillions.
Charles the Tenth had issued
orders that no mails should pass the barricades
to disseminate news of the insurrection
in the provinces; but a regiment that
had gone over to the people, took charge of
the London mail, and gave it a safe escort.
The military were depressed and inactive,
but the barricade-building went on faster
than ever. That night the Prefect of Police
left Paris: almost mad with rage and fear.

On Thursday, at daybreak, the tocsin
clanged again, and the people gathered
faster and faster. The military massed
close round the great piles of the Louvre
and the Tuileries. The Swiss and Guards
were chiefly sheltered in the houses in and
round the Rue St. Honoré. The National
Guards gathered on the boulevards and in
the Place de Grève. Nearly every lad in the
Polytechnique School had now joined the
people, and dispersed themselves to lead the
various attacks. In the Rue Richelieu, and
all round the Rue St. Honoré, the two