es,
Mrs. Morley here kissed Isaura, resettled her crinoline, and shaking
hands with the Venosta, retreated to the door.

"I shall have the wreath yet," cried the Venosta, impishly. "La speranza
e fenamina" (Hope is female).

"Alas!" said Isaura, half mournfully, half smiling, "alas! do you
not remember what the poet replied when asked what disease was most
mortal?--'the hectic fever caught from the chill of hope.'"

CHAPTER III.

Graham Vane was musing very gloomily in his solitary apartment one
morning, when his servant announced Colonel Morley.

He received his visitor with more than the cordiality with which every
English politician receives an American citizen. Graham liked the
Colonel too well for what he was in himself to need any national title
to his esteem. After some preliminary questions and answers as to the
health of Mrs. Morley, the length of the Colonel's stay in London, what
day he could dine with Graham at Richmond or Gravesend, the Colonel took
up the ball. "We have been reckoning to see you at Paris, sir, for the
last six months."

"I am very much flattered to hear that you have thought of me at all;
but I am not aware of having warranted the expectation you so kindly
express."

"I guess you must have said something to my wife which led her to do
more than expect--to reckon on your return. And, by the way, sir, I am
charged to deliver to you this note from her, and to back the request it
contains that you will avail yourself of the offer. Without summarising
the points I do so."

Graham glanced over the note addressed to him

"DEAR MR. VANE,--Do you forget how beautiful the environs of Paris
are in May and June? how charming it was last year at the lake of
Enghien? how gay were our little dinners out of doors in the garden
arbours, with the Savarins and the fair Italian, and her
incomparably amusing chaperon? Frank has my orders to bring you
back to renew these happy days, while the birds are in their first
song, and the leaves are in their youngest green. I have prepared
your rooms chez nous--a chamber that looks out on the Champs
Elysees, and a quiet cabinet de travail at the back, in which you
can read, write, or sulk undisturbed. Come, and we will again visit
Enghien and Montmorency. Don't talk of engagements. If man
proposes, woman disposes. Hesitate not--obey. Your sincere little
friend, Lizzy."

"My dear Morley," said Graham, with emoti