her eye.

The Sunday morning that followed Barty's debut at Brossard's the
boys went to church in the Rue de l'Eglise, Passy--and he with them,
for he had been brought up a Roman Catholic. And I went round to
Mlle. Jalabert's to see my mother and sister.

I told them all about the new boy, and they were much interested.
Suddenly my mother exclaimed:

"Bartholomew Josselin? why, dear me! that must be Lord Runswick's
son--Lord Runswick, who was the eldest son of the present Marquis of
Whitby. He was in the 17th lancers with your uncle Charles, who was
very fond of him. He left the army twenty years ago, and married
Lady Selina Jobhouse--and his wife went mad. Then he fell in love
with the famous Antoinette Josselin at the 'Bouffes,' and wanted so
much to marry her that he tried to get a divorce; it was tried in
the House of Lords, I believe; but he didn't succeed--so
they--a--well--they contracted a--a _morganatic_ marriage, you know;
and your friend was born. And poor Lord Runswick was killed in a
duel about a dog, when his son was two years old; and his mother
left the stage, and--"

Just here the beautiful Miss ---- came in with her sister, and there
was no more of Josselin's family history; and I forgot all about it
for the day. For I passionately loved the beautiful Miss ----; I was
just thirteen!

But next morning I said to him at breakfast, in English,

"Wasn't your father killed in a duel?"

"Yes," said Barty, looking grave.

"Wasn't he called Lord Runswick?"

"Yes," said Barty, looking graver still.

"Then why are you called Josselin?"

"Ask no questions and you'll get no lies," said Barty, looking very
grave indeed--and I dropped the subject.

And here I may as well rapidly go through the well-known story of
his birth and early childhood.

His father, Lord Runswick, fell desperately in love with the
beautiful Antoinette Josselin after his own wife had gone hopelessly
mad. He failed to obtain a divorce, naturally; Antoinette was as
much in love with him, and they lived together as man and wife, and
Barty was born. They were said to be the handsomest couple in Paris,
and immensely popular among all who knew them, though of course
society did not open its doors to la belle Madame de Ronsvic, as she
was called.

She was the daughter of poor fisher-folk in Le Pollet, Dieppe. I,
with Barty for a guide, have seen the lowly dwelling where her
infancy and childhood were spent, and which Barty remembe