or affectation. Simple, natural, mild,
and gracious, the gentle reserve of his manner added, under the
circumstances, to the interest which he inspired. Somewhat of that
reserve continued even after our acquaintance had ripened into intimacy.

He never spoke of his own past history, or future prospects, shunned
all political discourse, and was with difficulty drawn into conversation
upon the scenery and manners of the North of Europe. He seemed afraid of
the subject.

Upon general topics, whether of literature or art, he was remarkably
open and candid. He possessed in an eminent degree the talent of
acquiring languages for which his countrymen are distinguished, and had
made the best use of those keys of knowledge. I have never met with any
person whose mind was more richly cultivated, or who was more calculated
to adorn the highest station. And here he was wasting life in a secluded
village in a foreign country! What would become of him after his
present apparently slender resources should be exhausted, was painful
to imagine. The more painful, that the accidental discovery of the
direction of a letter had disclosed his former rank. It was part of an
envelope addressed, "A Monsieur Monsieur le Comte Choynowski," and left
as a mark in a book, all except the name being torn off. But the fact
needed no confirmation. All his habits and ways of thinking bore marks
of high station. What would become of him?

It was but too evident that another calamity was impending over the
unfortunate exile. Although most discreet in word and guarded in manner,
every action bespoke his devotion to his lovely fellow inmate. Her
wishes were his law. His attentions to her little boy were such as
young men rarely show to infants except for love of the mother; and the
garden, that garden abandoned since the memory of man, (for the Court,
previous to the arrival of the present tenant, had been for years
uninhabited,) was, under his exertions and superintendence, rapidly
assuming an aspect of luxuriance and order. It was not impossible but
Helen might realise her playful vaunt, and beat me in my own art after
all.

John (our gardening lad) was as near being jealous as possible, and,
considering the estimation in which John is known to hold our doings in
the flower way, such jealousy must be accepted as the most flattering
testimony to his rival's success. To go beyond our garden was, in John's
opinion, to be great indeed!

Every thought of