her. And then,"
continued Gawtrey, "you must perceive that she loves nothing in the
world but me--me, whom nobody else loves! Well--well, now to the shop
again!"

On returning home the bonne informed them that a lady had called, and
asked both for Monsieur Love and the young gentleman, and seemed much
chagrined at missing both. By the description, Morton guessed she was
the fair incognita, and felt disappointed at having lost the interview.

CHAPTER V.

"The cursed carle was at his wonted trade,
Still tempting heedless men into his snare,
In witching wise, as I before have said;
But when he saw, in goodly gear array'd,
The grave majestic knight approaching nigh,
His countenance fell."--THOMSON, Castle of Indolence.

The morning rose that was to unite Monsieur Goupille with Mademoiselle
Adele de Courval. The ceremony was performed, and bride and bridegroom
went through that trying ordeal with becoming gravity. Only the elegant
Adele seemed more unaffectedly agitated than Mr. Love could well account
for; she was very nervous in church, and more often turned her eyes to
the door than to the altar. Perhaps she wanted to run away; but it was
either too late or too early for the proceeding. The rite performed,
the happy pair and their friends adjourned to the Cadran Bleu, that
restaurant so celebrated in the festivities of the good citizens of
Paris. Here Mr. Love had ordered, at the epicier's expense, a most
tasteful entertainment.

"Sacre! but you have not played the economist, Monsieur Lofe," said
Monsieur Goupille, rather querulously, as he glanced at the long room
adorned with artificial flowers, and the table a cingitante couverts.

"Bah!" replied Mr. Love, "you can retrench afterwards. Think of the
fortune she brought you."

"It is a pretty sum, certainly," said Monsieur Goupille, "and the notary
is perfectly satisfied."

"There is not a marriage in Paris that does me more credit," said Mr.
Love; and he marched off to receive the compliments and congratulations
that awaited him among such of the guests as were aware of his good
offices. The Vicomte de Vaudemont was of course not present. He had
not been near Mr. Love since Adele had accepted the epicier. But Madame
Beavor, in a white bonnet lined with lilac, was hanging, sentimentally,
on the arm of the Pole, who looked very grand with his white favour; and
Mr. Higgins had been introduced, by Mr. Love, to a little dark Cr