several people rushed along the little gallery, till the very house shook with their tread. The door of the salon was now banged wide, and in rushed Colonel Muddleton, followed by the count, the abbé, and an elderly lady.

'Where is he?'-'Where is she?'-'Where is he?' Where is she? Where are they?' screamed they, in confusion, one after the other.

'Laura! Laura!' cried the old colonel, clasping his daughter in his arms; 'I didn't expect this from you!' 'Monsieur O'Leary, vous êtes un—'

Before the count could finish, the abbé interposed between us, and said 'No, no! Everything may be arranged. Tell me, in one word, is it over?'

'Is what over?' said I, in a state two degrees worse than insanity-is what over?'

'Are you married?' whispered he.

'No, bless your heart! never thought of it.'

'Oh, the wretch!' screamed the old lady, and went off into strong kickings on the sofa.

'It's a bad affair,' said the abbé, in a low voice; 'take my advice-propose to marry her at once.'

'Yes, parbleu!' said the little count, twisting his moustaches in a fierce manner; 'there is but one road to take here.'

Now, though unquestionably but half an hour before, when seated beside the lovely Laura in the garden of the château, such a thought would have filled me with delight, the same proposition, accompanied by a threat, stirred up all my indignation and resistance.

Not on compulsion, said Sir John; and truly there was reason in the speech.

But, indeed, before I could reply, the attention of all was drawn towards Laura herself, who from laughing violently at first had now become hysterical, and continued to laugh and cry at intervals; and as the old lady continued her manipulations with a candlestick on an oak table near, while the colonel shouted for various unattain

able remedies at the top of his voice, the scene was anything but decorous-the abbé, who alone seemed to preserve his sanity, having as much as he could do to prevent the little count from strangling me with his own hands; such, at least, his violent gestures seemed to indicate. As for the priest and the mayor and the shemayor, they had all fled long before. There appeared now but one course for me, which was to fly also. There was no knowing what intemperate act the count might commit under his present excitement; it was clear they were all labouring under a delusion, which nothing at the present moment could elucidate. A nod from the abbé and a motion towards the open door decided my wavering resolution. I rushed out, over the gallery and down the road, not knowing whither, nor caring.

I might as well try to chronicle the sensations of my raving intellect in my first fever in boyhood as convey any notion of what passed through my brain for the next two hours. I sat on a rock beside the river, vainly endeavouring to collect my scattered thoughts, which only presented to me a vast chaos of a wood and a crusader, a priest and a lady, veal cutlets and music, a big book, an old lady in fits, and a man in sky-blue stockings. The rolling near me of a carriage with four horses aroused me for a second, but I could not well say why, and all was again still, and I sat there alone.

'He must be somewhere near this,' said a voice, as I heard the tread of footsteps approaching; 'this is his hat. Ah, here he is.' At the same moment the abbé stood beside me. 'Come along, now; don't stay here in the cold,' said he, taking me by the arm. 'They've all gone home two hours ago. I have remained to ride back the nag in the morning.'

I followed without a word.

'Ma foi!' said he, 'it is the first occasion in my life where I could not see my way through a difficulty. What, in Heaven's name, were you about? What was your plan?'

'Give me half an hour in peace,' said I; and if I'm not deranged before it's over, I'll tell you.'

The abbé complied, and I fulfilled my promise-though in good sooth the shouts of laughter with which he received my story caused many an interruption. When I had finished, he began, and leisurely proceeded to inform me that Bouvigne's great celebrity was as a place for runaway couples to get married; that the inn of the Golden Fleece was known over the whole kingdom, and the Père José's reputation wide as the Archbishop of Ghent's; and as to the phrase sous la cheminée, it is only applied to a clandestine marriage, which is called a 'mariage sous la cheminée.'

'Now I,' continued he, 'can readily believe every word you've told me; yet there's not another person in Rochepied would credit a syllable of it. Never hope for an explanation. In fact, before you would be listened to, there are at least two duels to fight-the count first, and then D'Espagne. I know Laura well; she'd let the affair have all its éclat before she will say a word about it; and, in fact, your executors may be able to clear your character-you'll never do so in your lifetime. Don't go back there,' said the abbé, ‘at least for the present.'

'I'll never set my eyes on one of them,' cried I, in desperation. 'I'm nigh deranged as it is; the memory of this confounded affair

'Will make you laugh yet,' said the abbé. 'And now good-night, or rather good-bye: I start early to-morrow morning, and we may not meet again.'

He promised to forward my effects to Dinant, and we parted.

'Monsieur will have a single bed?' said the housemaid, in answer to my summons.

'Yes,' said I, with a muttering I fear very like an oath.

Morning broke in through the half-closed curtains, with the song of birds and the ripple of the gentle river. A balmy gentle air stirred the leaves, and the sweet valley lay in all its peaceful beauty before me.