change of thought and confidence which each longed for.

"Here we are at the end of our journey!" said he, with a sigh, as they
entered Aix.

"And the beginning of our friendship," said she, with a smile, while she
held out her hand to pledge the contract.

So intently was Beecher gazing at her face that he did not notice the
action.

"Won't you have it?" asked she, laughing.

"Which," cried he,--"the hand or the friendship?"

"I meant the friendship," said she, quietly.

"Tickets, sir!" said the guard, entering. "We are at the station."

Annesley Beecher was soon immersed in all those bustling cares which
attend the close of a journey; and though Lizzy seemed to enjoy the
confusion and turmoil that prevailed, he was far from happy amidst the
anxieties about baggage and horse-boxes, the maid and the groom each
tormenting him in the interests of their several departments. All was,
however, safe; not a cap-case was missing; Klepper "never lost a hair;"
and they drove off to the Hotel of the Four Nations in high spirits all.

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE "FOUR NATIONS" AT AIX

All the bustle of "settling down" in the hotel over, Annesley
Beecher began to reflect a little on the singularity of his situation.
The wondering admiration which had followed Lizzy Davis wherever she
appeared on the journey seemed to have reached its climax now, and
little knots and groups of lounging travellers were to be seen before
the windows, curious to catch a glance at this surpassing beauty. Now,
had she been his _bona fide_ property, he was just the man to derive
the most intense enjoyment from this homage at second hand; he 'd have
exulted and triumphed in it. His position was, however, a very different
one, and, as merely her companion, while it exposed her to very
depreciating judgments, it also necessitated on his part a degree of
haughty defiance and championship for which he had not the slightest
fancy whatever.

Annesley Beecher dragged into a row for Grog Davis's daughter, Beecher
fighting some confounded Count or other about Lizzy Davis, Annesley
shot by some Zouave Captain who insisted on waltzing with his
"friend,"--these were pleasant mind-pictures which he contemplated with
the very reverse of enjoyment; and yet the question of her father's
station away, he felt it was a cause wherein even one who had no more
love for the "duello" than himself might well have perilled life. All
her loveliness and grace had not been w