maintain herself--and telling me to direct to her, Poste restante, Aix-
la-Chapelle. I sent her the sum she asked, perhaps a little more, but
with a confession reluctantly wrung from me that I was a ruined man; and
I urged her to think very seriously before she refused the competence and
position which a union with M. Louvier would insure.

"This last consideration so pressed on me that, when Louvier called on
me, I think that day or the nests I gave him Louise's note, and told him
that, if he were still as much in love with her as ever, _les absents ont
toujours tort_, and he had better go to Aix-la-Chapelle and find her out;
that he had my hearty approval of his wooing, and consent to his
marriage, though I still urged the wisdom and fairness, if she would take
the preliminary step--which, after all, the French law frees as much as
possible from pain and scandal--of annulling the irregular marriage into
which her childlike youth had been decoyed.

"Louvier left me for Aix-la-Chapelle. The very next day came that cruel
affliction which made me a prey to the most intolerable calumny, which
robbed me of every friend, which sent me forth from my native country
penniless, and resolved to be nameless--until--until--well, until my hour
could come again--every dog, if not hanged, has its day;--when that
affliction befell me, I quitted France, heard no more of Louvier nor of
Louise; indeed, no letter addressed to me at Paris would have reached--"

The man paused here, evidently with painful emotion. He resumed in the
quiet matter-of-fact way in which he had commenced his narrative.

"Louise had altogether faded out of my remembrance until your question
revived it. As it happened, the question came at the moment when I
meditated resuming my real name and social position. In so doing, I