t was already
past. The conduct of Arabella had disgusted him, and he therefore
looked calmly on and marked the progress of events.

At length the count, from paying marked attention to Arabella in
company, began to visit her occasionally at her father's house,
little to the satisfaction of Mr. Jones, the father, who had never
worn a whisker in his life, and had a most bitter aversion to
moustaches. This being the case, the course of Arabella's love did
not, it may be supposed, run very smooth, for her father told her
very decidedly that he was not going to have "that monkey-faced
fellow" coming about his house. Shocked at such vulgar language,
Arabella replied--

"Gracious me, father! Don't speak in that way of Mr. De Courci. He's
a French count, travelling in disguise."

"A French monkey! What on earth put that nonsense into your head?"

"Everybody knows it, father. Mr. De Courci tried to conceal his
rank, but his English valet betrayed the secret. He is said to be
connected with one of the oldest families in France, and to have
immense estates near Paris."

"The largest estates he possesses are in Whiskerando, if you ever
heard of that place. A French count! Preposterous!"

"I know it to be true," said Arabella, emphatically.

"How do you know it, Miss Confidence?"

"I know it from the fact that I hinted to him, delicately, my
knowledge of his rank abroad, and he did not deny it. His looks and
his manner betrayed what he was attempting to conceal."

"Arabella!" said Mr. Jones, with a good deal of sternness, "if you
were silly enough to hint to this fellow what you say you did, and
he was impostor enough not to deny it on the spot in the most
unequivocal terms, then he adds the character of a designing villain
to that of a senseless fop. In the name of homely American common
sense, can you not see, as plain as daylight, that he is no nearer
akin to a foreign nobleman than his barber or boot-black may be?"

Arabella was silenced because it was folly to contend in this matter
with her father, who was a blunt, common-sense, clear-seeing man;
but she was not in the least convinced Mr. De Courci was not a
French count for all he might say, and, what was better, evidently
saw attractions in her superior to those of which any of her fair
compeers could boast.

"My dear Miss Jones," said the count, when they next met, speaking
in that delightful foreign accent, so pleasant to the ear of the
young lady, and with