a Russian lady of
high rank.

Such is the description of my aunt.

My uncle had offered her his arm. As soon as we entered the
drawing-room, she said, while taking off her hat:

"Ah, now you must at once explain to me this story of your death, which
I received from a notary. For six months I have been fancying myself a
widow!"

"You can see that there's nothing in it," replied my uncle.

"That's nice!" she exclaimed, laughing and holding her hand out to him a
second time. "Another of your eccentricities, I suppose!"

"Not in the least, my dear; Andre here can tell you that I positively
passed for a dead man, and that he went into mourning for me. He has
even entered into the possession of my property as my heir."

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good," she answered; "but how
was it that they put you in the grave by mistake? I am curious to know."

"I was in Abyssinia."

"Close by, is it?" asked she, interrupting him.

"Yes," continued my uncle. "A friend who was travelling with me, stayed
behind at a place on our way, while I went forward, and he managed to
die in such a stupid and ill-timed manner that, as my baggage was with
him, it was from my papers that his certificate of death was made out.
It was only on my return here, five months later, that I learnt that I
had been taken for dead. You see what a simple story it is."

"Well, of course," said my aunt, "such things are quite a common
occurrence! That will teach you the result of not taking me with you on
your travels. Was it also on account of this trip in Abyssinia that I
have not seen you for two years? Oh stop, my dear nephew!" she added in
an engaging tone, "a family scene is an instructive event; it forms----.
Go on, captain, answer me."

"Two years?" replied my uncle. "Is it really two years?"

"Consult your log-books, if they have not been buried with your friend."

"Ah! forgive me, dear Eudoxia, I have had during all this time most
important business."

"Yes," continued my aunt, "we all know what important business you have;
I've heard some fine accounts of you. Do you know what Lord Clifden told
me at St. Petersburg three months ago, while complimenting me upon my
widow's mourning, which, by the way, suited me extremely well? He told
me that during your lifetime you had been a bigamist."

"What a likely story!" exclaimed my uncle, boldly.

"He assured me that he had seen you at Madras with a Spanish woman, you
old traitor! S