r your pretensions."

"My pretensions, Madam," faltered Sir Henry, "are different from those
of Lieutenant Harland. I seek a child, who nineteen years since was left
at the gates of St. Ursule, in Rennes: whether Louise be that child, is
easily known: tell me, Madam, if you have ever beheld a miniature
similar to this?"

He drew one from his bosom, and presented it to the Marchioness.

"Similar to this!" she repeated with surprise. "Good Heavens, this is
the miniature that was found with Louise! Tell me, I entreat you, Sir
Henry, how it came into your possession; or if you know aught which
could develope the mystery of her birth?"

At that moment Louise entered, and the Marchioness continued--"St.
Ursule, my child, come hither. You are in the highest degree interested
in the present subject. Sir Henry Corbet has brought this miniature, and
inquires for a child who some years back was left at the gates of St.
Ursule, in Rennes."

The colour fled the interesting face of Louise at this account: with a
trembling hand she took the miniature, and compared it with that she
constantly wore; the resemblance was exact. "Oh, Sir Henry!" she
exclaimed; "tell me, I conjure you, whence this picture? You seek a
child--say, do you know my parents, or the reason of their cruel
desertion of me in my infancy?"

"Cruel desertion indeed!" said Sir Henry; "arising from shame to
acknowledge their offspring! But no longer shall you be a dependent! My
heart claimed you the moment I beheld you; and a view of your mother's
picture, last night, but confirmed my suspicion, that you were--my
sister!"

He clasped her in his arms in an affectionate embrace, unresisted by
Louise; who, surprised and bewildered at the unexpected claim, was for
some moments incapable of speaking.

"Your sister!" exclaimed the Captain and the Marchioness. "Good God! Sir
Henry, by what strange circumstances?"

"Seek not an explanation, now," said Sir Henry, "which must expose the
frailties of a parent. The time is approaching, when every action must
be revealed; but till then, spare me--spare Louise!"

Louise now disengaged herself from the arms of Sir Henry, and, throwing
herself into those of the Marchioness, cried--"Oh, Madam, congratulate
your Louise; she is no longer the child of desertion: she has found a
relation--she has found a brother!"

The Marchioness embraced her affectionately; and Sir Henry then
presented her to the Captain and Frederick, as his