languages, who could paint, and model, and
write sonnets, and dance to perfection. And he could talk of virtue,
and in some sort seem to believe in it,--though he would sometimes
confess of himself that Nature had not endowed him with the strength
necessary for the performance of all the good things which he so
thoroughly appreciated.

Such as he was he entirely gained the affection of Mary Roden. It is
unnecessary here to tell the efforts that were made by Mrs. Vincent
to prevent the marriage. Had she been less austere she might,
perhaps, have prevailed with the girl. But as she began by pointing
out to her cousin the horror of giving herself, who had been born and
bred a Protestant, to a Roman Catholic,--and also of bestowing her
English money upon an Italian,--all that she said was without effect.
The state of Mr. Vincent's health made it impossible for them to
move, or Mary might perhaps have been carried back to England. When
she was told that the man was poor, she declared that there was so
much the more reason why her money should be given to relieve the
wants of the man she loved. It ended in their being married, and all
that Mr. Vincent was able to accomplish was to see that the marriage
ceremony should be performed after the fashion both of the Church of
England and of the Church of Rome. Mary at the time was more than
twenty-one, and was thus able, with all the romance of girlhood,
to pour her eight thousand pounds into the open hands of her
thrice-noble and thrice-beautiful lover.

The Duchino with his young Duchessina went their way rejoicing, and
left poor Mr. Vincent to die at Verona. Twelve months afterwards
the widow had settled herself at the house at Wimbledon, from which
she had in latter years paid her weekly visits to Paradise Row,
and tidings had come from the young wife which were not altogether
satisfactory. The news, indeed, which declared that a young little
Duke had been born to her was accompanied by expressions of joy which
the other surrounding incidents of her life were not permitted at
the moment altogether to embitter. Her baby, her well-born beautiful
baby, was for a few months allowed to be a joy to her, even though
things were otherwise very sorrowful. But things were very sorrowful.
The old Duke and the old Duchess would not acknowledge her. Then she
learned that the quarrel between the father and son had been carried
to such a pitch that no hope of reconciliation remained. Whate