"Oh, Patty, Patty, it is till your own fault:
all owing to your foolish fondness for match-
making. But I will be her mother. I won't
care what Robert says; I will make him call
the marquis out. Robert shall horsewhip him;
Robert shall——"

I was interrupted by Caroline opening the
door, her face in a greater blaze of bewilderment
than when she ushered in the marquis.

"My lord duke," says she.

"Now, if you ever want your senses, Patty,"
I had just time to say to myself, "you want
them now." I bowed to his bow, and then I
kissed the lovely weeping face lying beneath
my own.

Goodness knows if my imagination deceived
me as to dukes and duchesses being received
in a different fashion to other mortals; but, as
he was an ordinary, rather fussy little man to
look at, I thought it best to be quite
composed.

"Madam," he said, "I have called upon a
very unpleasant business, and I find your
husband has gone to me, perhaps on a similar
errand."

"I do not know, sir, if you will think it
unpleasant or not."

"May I ask, if that is the young lady whom
my son visits?"

"That is my guest and adopted child,
Violante de——"

"Pardon me, madam, that is not her name,
she is——"

And now was I not good, that I did not give
even a little bit of a scream? His grace named
the very identical, naughty, good-for-nothing
French girl whose elopement with an English
adventurer, as I thought, caused such a scandal
a few months ago. But I shuddered, oh! how
I shuddered, and she that lay with her arms
round my neck, felt me shudder, and said, in
her soft musical voice:

"Aimez moi, aimez moi, ma mère Pattie."

"Oui," said I again, " ui, immencement."

Then she rose—for she too shuddered at
hearing her proper name—and, with her face all
bedewed with tears, her pretty hands clasped,
the very loveliest picture of sorrow that ever
was seen, but with a certain nameless dignity
and grace about her, she knelt before him.

Now, what with one thing and another, I
could not contrive to understand what she said,
but I saw, by the duke's face, that though he
was a duke he had a tender heart, and an admiration
for beauty. First of all he looked amazed,
as well he might, at her exquisite loveliness—
then he was touched—then he melted—tears
came into his eyes; and, as she drew forth a
ribbon, and showed him a little gold ring, talking
all the time with a pathos that made the
tears run down my cheeks, though I didn't
know what she was saying, he opened his
arms, and she, with a cry of joy, sprang into
them. At that identical moment in rushed the
marquis, followed by the duchess—in stalked
Robert, accompanied by Pet—in walked Mrs.
Mountjoy.

As for being able to relate what each said to
the other, and what all talked of and about,
and to and from, 'tis impossible. It is enough
to say, that this was a case of Romeo and Juliet
over and over again. Knowing her people were
very strict and formal with her, and that she
pined for nothing so much as some one to love
her ("Aimez moi! aimez moi!"), and that she
should only lead the same cold stately life with
a French husband that she did with her parents
—her priest had pitied and married her to the
marquis, and her old gouvernante had aided and
abetted, and she had come away here to hide
herself, and see her beloved occasionally.
("Hum," as Erasmus says; that "occasionally"
was pretty often.) I must not forget to say
that the duke had forbidden the marquis to
think of marrying a young lady of a religion
different to his own, and he was waiting to try
and persuade him; but the duke acknowledged,
after he had seen and talked to Viola, his son
was to be excused. As for the duchess, she
was as good as gold. And we all went down
to luncheon, and there, if Caroline had not
(considering it an occasion which justified her
acting without any authority from me—a duke, a
duchess, a marquis and marchioness to luncheon)
put on the épergne, but luckily she had dressed
it with flowers. And the luncheon was
excellent. (I should like to see my servants not
knowing how to act in an emergency!) And then
they all went away, and the duchess kissed and
thanked me, and the marchioness did the same,
a dozen times, and the duke was so kind, and as
for the marquis——

"Oh! Robert," I said, "if it had not been
for his tendency towards hypocrisy, what a
darling he is! I never saw such moustaches,
they are perfect loves. Suppose, Robert, you
grow your moustaches."

"Suppose you do it for me, Patty."

"Now, Robert! but oh—goodness gracious
me, Robert, the barn!"

NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS,
In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of "Pickwick," "Copperfleld," &c.
Now publishing, PART XV., price Is., of
OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
IN TWENTY MONTHLY PARTS.
With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE.
London: CHAPMAN and HALL, 193, Piccadilly.