my heart I was tired of the irregular life
we had been leading, and longing to return to England and my old
home. Irene herself was no longer dear to me. While she had remained
faithful to me, I had considered myself, in a certain sense, bound to
her, although the bonds had commenced to gall. Now that she had left
me of her own accord, I was free. I troubled little as to what had
become of her; youth is always selfish. She had either gone home to
her father, or had run away with Count Hirsfeld, I determined at once.
Of the two, I was inclined to believe the latter, from the fact of
her having left no message for me, and also as I found that he too had
quitted Paris suddenly. I purposely did not attempt to find out, for
had I discovered the latter to be true, I should have felt bound to
call Count Hirsfeld out the next time I met him, and I hated duelling.
So, with a light heart, I disposed of my Paris establishment, selling
even the house, and everything likely to remind me of a page of my
history which I desired to blot out.

"'I returned to England, and settled down at Vaux Abbey. In a few
months my life with Irene lay back in the past, like a troubled dream,
and I did my best to forget it. It was all hateful and tiresome to
me. My mind was full now of healthier and more wholesome thoughts and
purposes. I felt like a man commencing life anew. Even my conscience
had almost ceased to trouble me. Irene had left me of her own will,
nor had she been driven to it by any unkindness on my part. I would
forget her. I had the right to forget her.

"'About six months had passed, and I was in the full enjoyment of my
altered life. One night, when the Abbey was full of guests, a servant
whispered in my ear, as we sat at dinner, that a gentleman,--a
foreigner, the man believed--had just been driven over from the
nearest railway station, and was in the library waiting to see me. I
knew in a moment that some sort of a resurrection of that buried past
was at hand; and though I nodded carelessly and kept my countenance,
my heart sank like lead. As soon as I could make an excuse, I left
the table, with a brief apology to my guests, and made my way to the
library.

"'I had expected to find there Irene's father. Judge of my
surprise when I found Count Hirsfeld advancing to meet me, pale and
travel-stained, from the shadows of the room. I stopped short, and
stood with my hands behind me.

"'"Mr. de Vaux, I bring you a letter," he sai