my fortunes are free from disgrace.
A solemn vow prevents me from explaining myself further, until the
blissful moment when I can call you wife; then, idol of my soul, shall
you know all. Behold this right hand; it has never committed an action
that could make this cheek blush with shame. And now, fairest among
women, when shall I claim this soft hand as my own lawful prize?"

The day was named, and the happy Alice was for the first time clasped to
the bosom of her lover.

* * * * *

At the hour of noon, on the next day, a gentleman might have been
standing on the steps of the Tremont House, gazing with an eye of
abstraction upon the passing throng. The age of this gentleman might
have been a matter of dubious inquiry; he was not young, you'd swear at
the first glance, and yet, after you had gazed two minutes into his
superb countenance, you would be as ready to swear that he was not over
thirty, or thirty-five at most. In truth, he was one of those singular
persons whose external appearance defies you to form any opinion as to
their age, with any hope of coming within twenty years of the truth. Not
a single gray hair could be seen among the glossy curls that fell over
his noble forehead--not a wrinkle disfigured the smooth surface of his
dark, beautiful skin--and yet there was _something_ that we cannot
define or describe, in the expression of his eyes, which now flashed
with all the fire of youth, and then grew almost dim as with the shadows
of advancing age--a something that indicated to any acute observer that
the elegant stranger had passed the prime of manhood.

He was dressed with tasteful simplicity. A splendid black suit set off
his fine form to advantage; yet his attire was utterly devoid of
ornament. Many were the bright eyes that glanced admiringly at his
handsome person; yet he seemed unconscious of the admiration he excited,
and gazed upon the passing crowd with all the calm complacency of a
philosopher.

This gentleman was the Chevalier Duvall. Not long had he been standing
upon the steps of the Tremont House, when he was accosted by an elderly
gentleman of a portly appearance, whom he cordially greeted with every
token of familiar friendship.

The portly old gentleman was the Honorable Timothy Tickels; he and the
Chevalier had long been intimate friends, having frequently met at the
house of Mr. Goldworthy. After the usual compliments, Mr. Tickels
remarked to his fri