n, his love grew cold, and, turning from her, he refused
to fulfil his plighted troth and lead her to the hymeneal altar. In
fact, he loved and he rode away, leaving her as dismally disconsolate as
the original maid forlorn."

"Alas for the golden age of chivalrie!" says Mr. Desmond.

"Alas, indeed! That wicked knight was your uncle; the maid forlorn my
mother!"

"You have been giving me a summary of a fairytale, haven't you?" asks
he, in an unbelieving tone.

"No, indeed; it is all quite true. From what I have heard, your uncle
must have treated my mother very badly. Now, aren't you thoroughly
ashamed of yourself and your family?"

"One swallow makes no summer," says Mr. Desmond, hardily. "Because my
uncle refused to succor a distressed damosel is no reason why I should
so far forget myself. Besides, the whole thing seems incredible. Report
says, and," with an expressive glance at her, "I can well believe it,
your mother was the most beautiful woman of her time in all the
countryside; while my uncle, bless him, is one of the very ugliest men I
ever met in my life. He might take a prize in that line. Just fancy the
Beast refusing to wed with Beauty!"

"To be ugly, so far as a _man_ is concerned, is nothing," says Monica
with a knowledge beyond her years. "Many singularly plain men have been
much beloved. Though"--with an unconscious study of her companion's
features, who is decidedly well favored--"I confess I should myself
prefer a man whose nose was straight, and whose eyes were--had no
inclination to look round the corner, I mean."

"A straight nose is to be preferred, of course," says Mr. Desmond,
absently stroking his own, which is all that can be desired. "But I
never since I was born heard such an extraordinary story as yours. I
give you my word,"--earnestly,--"my uncle is just the sort of man who,
if _any_ girl, no matter how hideous, were to walk up to him and say, 'I
consent to marry you,' ought to be devoutly grateful to her. Why,
talking of noses, you should just see his: it's--it's _anyhow_," with
growing excitement. "It's all up hill and down dale. I never before or
since saw such a nose; and I'd back his mouth to _beat that_!"

"He must be a very distinguished-looking person," says Miss Beresford,
demurely.

"I know very little about him, of course, having been always so much
abroad; but he _looks_ like a man who could be painfully faithful to an
attachment of that kind."

"He was not faithfu