tter altogether out of the question.

"It is done!" I cried, with all the enthusiasm that I could muster at
the moment. "It is done--it is most cheerfully agreed. I sacrifice
every feeling for your sake. To-night I wear this dear eye-glass, as an
eye-glass, and upon my heart; but with the earliest dawn of that morning
which gives me the pleasure of calling you wife, I will place it
upon my--upon my nose,--and there wear it ever afterward, in the less
romantic, and less fashionable, but certainly in the more serviceable,
form which you desire."

Our conversation now turned upon the details of our arrangements for the
morrow. Talbot, I learned from my betrothed, had just arrived in town.
I was to see him at once, and procure a carriage. The soiree would
scarcely break up before two; and by this hour the vehicle was to be
at the door, when, in the confusion occasioned by the departure of the
company, Madame L. could easily enter it unobserved. We were then to
call at the house of a clergyman who would be in waiting; there be
married, drop Talbot, and proceed on a short tour to the East, leaving
the fashionable world at home to make whatever comments upon the matter
it thought best.

Having planned all this, I immediately took leave, and went in search of
Talbot, but, on the way, I could not refrain from stepping into a hotel,
for the purpose of inspecting the miniature; and this I did by the
powerful aid of the glasses. The countenance was a surpassingly
beautiful one! Those large luminous eyes!--that proud Grecian
nose!--those dark luxuriant curls!--"Ah!" said I, exultingly to myself,
"this is indeed the speaking image of my beloved!" I turned the reverse,
and discovered the words--"Eugenie Lalande--aged twenty-seven years and
seven months."

I found Talbot at home, and proceeded at once to acquaint him with
my good fortune. He professed excessive astonishment, of course, but
congratulated me most cordially, and proffered every assistance in his
power. In a word, we carried out our arrangement to the letter, and, at
two in the morning, just ten minutes after the ceremony, I found myself
in a close carriage with Madame Lalande--with Mrs. Simpson, I should
say--and driving at a great rate out of town, in a direction Northeast
by North, half-North.

It had been determined for us by Talbot, that, as we were to be up all
night, we should make our first stop at C--, a village about twenty
miles from the city, and there ge