he would bid me hope and be of good cheer in his droll way; and a
Blaze letter from him would hearten me up wonderfully--till I was
told of Leah's going to the theatre with Mrs. Scatcherd and her son,
or saw his horses and groom parading up and down Tavistock Square
while he was at the Gibsons', or heard of his dining there without
Ida or me!

Then one fine day in April (the first, I verily believe) young
Scatcherd proposed to Leah--and was refused--unconditionally
refused--to the deep distress and dismay of her father and mother,
who had thoroughly set their hearts on this match; and no wonder!

But Leah was an obstinate young woman, it seems, and thoroughly knew
her own mind, though she was so young--not seventeen.

Was I a happy man? Ah, wasn't I! I was sent to Bordeaux by my father
that very week on business--and promised myself I would soon be
quite as good a catch or match as Scatcherd himself. I found
Bordeaux the sunniest, sweetest town I had ever been in--and the
Bordelais the jolliest men on earth; and as for the beautiful
Bordelaises--ma foi! they might have been monkeys, for me! There was
but one woman among women--one lily among flowers--everything else
was a weed!

Poor Scatcherd! when I met him, a few days later, he must have been
struck by the sudden warmth of my friendship--the quick idiomatic
cordiality of my French to him. This mutual friendship of ours
lasted till his death in '88. And so did our mutual French!

Except Barty, I never loved a man better; two years after his
refusal by Leah he married my sister--a happy marriage, though a
childless one; and except myself, Barty never had a more devoted
friend. And now to Barty I will return.

Part Sixth

"From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures, fairest lin'd,
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no fair be kept in mind,
But the fair of Rosalind.

* * * * *

"Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devis'd,
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest priz'd."

--_As You Like It._

For many months Barty and his aunt lived their usual life in the Rue
des Ursulines Blanches.

He always looked back on those dreary months as on a long nightmare.
Spring, summer, autumn, and another Christmas!

His