t either until I was married. My dear
husband--dead many years since--formed my tastes and elevated me to
himself. You have heard of the late Professor Lecomte, the eminent Swiss
naturalist? I am his widow. The English circle at Zurich (where I
lived in my late master's service) Anglicized my name to Lecount. Your
generous country people will have nothing foreign about them--not even
a name, if they can help it. But I was speaking of my husband--my dear
husband, who permitted me to assist him in his pursuits. I have had only
one interest since his death--an interest in science. Eminent in many
things, the professor was great at reptiles. He left me his Subjects
and his Tank. I had no other legacy. There is the Tank. All the Subjects
died but this quiet little fellow--this nice little toad. Are you
surprised at my liking him? There is nothing to be surprised at. The
professor lived long enough to elevate me above the common prejudice
against the reptile creation. Properly understood, the reptile creation
is beautiful. Properly dissected, the reptile creation is instructive
in the last degree." She stretched out her little finger, and gently
stroked the toad's back with the tip of it. "So refreshing to the
touch," said Mrs. Lecount--"so nice and cool this summer weather!"

The bell from the parlor rang. Mrs. Lecount rose, bent fondly over the
Aquarium, and chirruped to the toad at parting as if it had been a bird.
"Mr. Vanstone is ready to receive you. Follow me, if you please, Miss
Garth." With these words she opened the door, and led the way out of the
room.

CHAPTER III.

"MISS GARTH, sir," said Mrs. Lecount, opening the parlor door, and
announcing the visitor's appearance with the tone and manner of a
well-bred servant.

Magdalen found herself in a long, narrow room, consisting of a back
parlor and a front parlor, which had been thrown into one by opening the
folding-doors between them. Seated not far from the front window, with
his back to the light, she saw a frail, flaxen-haired, self-satisfied
little man, clothed in a fair white dressing-gown many sizes too large
for him, with a nosegay of violets drawn neatly through the button-hole
over his breast. He looked from thirty to five-and-thirty years old.
His complexion was as delicate as a young girl's, his eyes were of
the lightest blue, his upper lip was adorned by a weak little white
mustache, waxed and twisted at either end into a thin spiral curl. When