that was always in his face—that air of a
gentleman which made him courteous and respectful
to all about him, contrasted with the bearing
of some of their countrymen, had quite attracted
them. The night before, he had quite won
Madame Jaques for ever, by a present of a
little brooch of some value. That lady, without
any impeachment of her attachment to her
husband, actually wept over this little token.

Bright day! Sun out. Many Frenchmen
lounging about the little street, yet with
delicacy, and not staring obtrusively. All the
English gone up to the church to have a grand,
solid stare; those who were not bidden being
loud in their envy of those who were, and of
disgust and anger at the bride and bridegroom.
The destroyer was, for the moment, forgotten.
In this pleasant France, they forget a sorrow
in a moment.

It is now nearly ten o'clock. They are going
off to the English chapel. No one thinks of
the plague now. Mr. Penny, a little nervous,
is waiting to emerge in his robes. The sun
is shining. The bells of the place are ringing.
They are waiting for the bridegroom, the
handsome Colonel Vivian.

Vivian, a little late, as he feels, is making
some few last preparations, putting up
something forgotten, so as to have nothing on his
mind. He has risen to get his hat, when some
one, pale, tottering, and agitated, comes in
and says: "Thank God, I have found you
here, and am in time!"

"West!" exclaimed Vivian, in surprise,
"what does this mean?"

Well might he ask, seeing the pale, worn,
and almost fainting object before him, for
whom this exertion might have been too
much.

"I know not what you will think of me,
but it is for the best I do this. It may turn
out nothing, after all. But for her—for your
sake, I ask one question—only one——"

"Certainly," said Vivian, quickly, yet uneasily.

"Have you received any letter from Paris
within the last two nights?"

Vivian started, coloured. A presentiment of
his old trouble coming back seemed to be
gaining on him. "What does this mean? Ah!
there is the clock striking, and I am late.
By-and-by we will talk of this. They are waiting.
Let me go, please."

"Then you do know something?" said West.
"Ah, take care! Let them wait. Oh, you
know not what may depend on this—ruin,
misery, that can never be repaired. For her
sake, wait a moment"—Vivian was still going
—"or I shall have to follow, and speak before
them all."

"Speak now, then," said Vivian, excitedly.
"What does all this mean?"

"It is this:  If you received any paper like
that"—he showed a sheet of letter-paper with a
picture on the top of the page—"and on its
news have ventured on this step, I tell you,
I solemnly believe that letter was written in
this town, and never came from where it
affected to come."

Vivian turned pale. "And has your wretched
malignity ventured on this? God help us!
What is to be done now?"

"Then it is true! I knew it. No, no. As
I have a soul, I know nothing of it. O Vivian!
That letter is a forgery."

Vivian had sunk down aghast, trembling.
He wanted no proofs, no details. He saw it
all too plainly. He could only repeat, "What
is to be done! My God, what is to be done!
They are waiting. They are ready!  It will
kill her!"

At this moment they heard steps on the
stairs, and Mr. Blacker entered—express. Dr.
White was with him—a malignant look on his
face.

"My dear colonel, they are all there—all
waiting. The mayor in his place; and the
consul has just come in. I ran up to give
you a hint. Why, what's the matter? And
Mr. West here!"'

Vivian did not answer him, but looked at
him with a dull stare.

"He is not well," said West, hurriedly,
"but will be better in a moment. Go back,
do you hear, and tell them he will be there in a
moment."

"Not well!  Good gracious!" said Mr.
Blacker, really confounded. "This is all very
odd."

"Go back to them at once," said Gilbert,
angrily, " or I shall."

"Oh, certainly," said Mr. Blacker, alarmed.
He did not wish to lose the charge of so
important a piece of news, and set off with
alacrity.

Dr. White lingered, with a curious smile on
his face.

Lucy, in the vestry, on her father's arm, was
waiting with a fluttering heart. There was to
be a little procession. The rest were in the
chapel. The mayor was there in the front
seat, now growing a little impatient. Mr.
Dempsey, on whom the late Captain Filby's
mantle had already fallen, was heard saying,
humorously:

"If the tide served this morning, I'd say
the colonel had given them all the slip. There's
a chaise still to be had in Dieppe. Wouldn't
it be fun? It'd be as good as Drury Lane—
the whole party waiting here, cooling
themselves, and he off. Why, here's old Blacker
going off after him! There is something up!"

Mr. Blacker came back, with wonder and
surprise and importance so plainly mixed up
in his face, that Mr. Dempsey said almost
aloud:

"I know there's something wrong."

Then he saw Mr. Dacres, with a look of
impatience on his face, again come posting out of
the vestry, and hurry down out of the chapel.
The mayor rose with dignity, and went into the
vestry. Mr. Dempsey, scarcely able to restrain
his indecent raptures, said, this time aloud:

"He has slipped off, after all!"

      *               *               *                *

"What is to be done?" said Vivian,