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then announced his intention having, as he said, arranged his affairs as well as he couldof setting off the next day for the Rhine, via Rotterdam; and Julian agreed, in consequence, to stay and dine with his father for the last time, for none knew how long a period.

De Villeneuve contrived to be included in this invitation; for although all, except Annie, would have preferred his absence, there was a benevolence of politeness in old Mr. Lindsay, which made it almost impossible to him to exclude even an intruder. And now he joined the group, basking in Ellen's sunny smiles; and Miss Tibby, with whom the French count was a great favourite, came in. Julian forced himself to seem cheerful, and to talk of the future with hope; and the exquisite sweetness of Ellen's voice, the charms of her face, and the grace of her figure, struck him forcibly, for the first time, as he saw her seated, like a duteous daughter, at his ruined father's feet, or hovering about him like a ministering angel.

But that lovely girl recalled the false one, so long deemed lovelier still. His heart seemed like a ruined temple. Time must do its effacing, yet restoring, work, ere another idol could be placed in its deserted shrine. Still the idea had been admitted-admitted only to be rejected; yet admitted still, like a ray of sunshine, into the wretch's dungeon: the darkness closed in as before, but the light had been there, and the captive knew where he was, and what surrounded him.

It was a strange day, that spent by the ruined family, on the eve of their exile. Mr. Lindsay went out alone for a time to get passports, and to arrange with his lawyers all his melancholy affairs. Miss Tibby proceeded to various shops, to lay in bargains, having no idea of any thing worth buying in foreign parts. De Villeneuve was resolved to revel to the last in the, to him, inexpressible charm of Ellen's conversation, which, however, was addressed chiefly to Julian, while Annie sat

at a distance, watching him with admiring love. It was a curious thing, that, on the wretched morning of the day of Julian's final rejection by Augusta, he had received a letter from his clear-sighted friend, urging him, if refused by the coquettish damsel, to come at once to him. and Zelie. It more than hinted at the hopeless but passionate love for him (Julian), which was bringing that gifted and beautiful being to an early grave, and ended with the earnest but not very delicate appeal of a brother on behalf of a broken-hearted sister. Julian was not a selfish character, and, even in his own bitter and sudden disappointment, he, nothing doubting, pitied the kindred woes of poor Zelie.

On the day of his arrival in London, after the disagreeable task of arranging his affairs, and parting with sundry valuables, unwilling to be seen and recognized by those who knew not of his father's ruin, he proceeded to a remote foreign hotel, where he had sometimes

dined with De Villeneuve, there to take his

solitary repast.

The first person he saw on entering the coffee-room was De Villeneuve himself, who had left Zelie at Hastings, and proceeded to London on some private business of his own. He welcomed Julian with apparent rapture; heard the tale of his rejection with wellassumed sympathy, and was adroitly leading the way to Zelie's unhappy state, when Julian suddenly exclaimed

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Alphonse, if I could love again, what would it avail? Heaven grant you may be wrong, and that your gifted and lovely sister has not fixed her young affections on a brokenhearted and a ruined man!"

"Ruined that is a strong term to use, Julian; say disappointed, rather."

"No, Alphonse- ruined! ruined in fortune! But lucky that that ruin has revealed to me of what base clay was the woman I so worshipped! I am an altered man, Alphonse.

My heart seems well-nigh broken, but my spirit is strong. I will not give a false, worldly coquette, the triumph of dying for her. I have a father; immense and unfortunate speculations have ruined him. I may have to toil for his support, as I certainly shall for my own; for I have talents, energy, and the world, before me. But that is a poor prospect for any woman who loves me."

The first expression of Alphonse's peculiar face was horror; the next, bitter disappointment and blank dismay. However, he forced himself to express the deepest sympathy, and won from Julian all the details of the whole affair; the projects and intentions of his family, as far as he knew them, and his own melancholy prospects of penurious toil.

Many of De Villeneuve's questions, Julian (who, from delicacy towards his father, had asked no details of his losses) was unable to answer. Nothing could exceed the almost angry surprise of the Frenchman, which ended

VOL. III.

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