Gray. She showed an aversion to say anything more on the subject, and he made no further reference to it. As the two men walked home together, Gray dwelt with enthusiasm on the charms of mind and person of Miss Blount. Dwight told him he took fire too easily. No; he had never seen a more lovely woman in his life, and Dwight ought to regard himself as one of the most fortunate of men. It was bright moonlight. Dwight stopped, looked his companion in the face, and said, "Do you really admire her to that extent, Anson ?" "She is simply superb, and, in your place, I would be the happiest of men," said Gray, enthusiastically. "You know how I feel toward you, Anson?” "Oh, we know each other, Dalton." 66 Gray thought a moment of the indifference she had manifested concerning his friend, then said: "This is indeed magnanimous, Dalton. But if I tried to avail myself of your generosity, I should be wrecking your hopes of happiness." "My happiness is your happiness, Anson. Try; pay your court, and, if she shows a preference for you, I shall at once retire, retaining her friendship as well as yours." "You are a noble fellow, Dalton!" "I am satisfied that, in my place, you would do as much for me." few directions to his patient. Shortly after, the door-bell sounded again, and a servant entered to inquire if Mrs. and Miss Blount were at home for Mr. Gray. "Ask him in," responded Mrs. Blount, and added to her daughter, as the servant disappeared, “Speak of an angel, and you are sure to hear the rustle of his wings." A slight blush passed over the face of Mary as he entered. After some desultory conversation, the doctor and Mrs. Blount remained on one side of the apartment, while her daughter and Gray took a seat on the other side of it near a window. There was again some desultory conversation as he sat near her. He was at length alone with her, or nearly so, for his words went no farther than her ear. He considered it his duty to make a last effort for his friend before making one for himself, and he again became eloquent concerning his noble qualities. Here the white and shapely hand went up to the mouth to suppress a yawn, as before. He paused a moment and looked at the indifferent expression which the face before him bore. Then he changed the subject, and spoke of himself, and she appeared to manifest an interest. One day, after visiting her for several weeks, he said: "I think I see myself pretty nearly as others see me—a man upward of forty, double your age, at least, Miss Blount; somewhat bald, too stout to be symmetrical, and with hardly any of the graces of mind and person which appeal to the eye and the heart of a young woman." You are unjust to yourself, Mr. Gray." He waved his hand, as if to say that he understood that her remark was made according to the They separated, clasping each other's hands with conventionalities of society. the firm grip of friendship. A day or two afterward, while Dr. Stone was visiting the Blounts, Gray was for a few minutes the subject of conversation, and what the doctor said concerning his character and wealth was favorable. "He has what the world calls a big heart," said he, "which is the world's way of saying that he is good and generous, albeit his heart is no bigger than those of his neighbors — anatomically considered. He has another fortune besides the one in houses, lands, and stocks, and that is in his exuberant nature; it makes him happy himself, and is the cause of other people's happiness, having the same effect as the wit of Falstaff. This is so much a part of Gray that I do not believe any misfortune could take it away from him." "Dalton is fortunate in having such a friend," said motherly Mrs. Blount. "Fortunate for Dalton Dwight; whether it is so for Gray, I am unable to say," observed Dr. Stone. This was somewhat enigmatical, but the conversation took another turn, and the kind of doubt which it seemed to imply was lost sight of by Mrs. Blount. The more attentive daughter, however, probably took note of it. The doctor then gave a No, really, Mr. Gray, you are too modest." Again he waved his hand in deprecation, then said: "Since you do not love Dalton, do you think you would ever be able to love me?" To which she replied, after a slight pause, the color mounting to her forehead: "That is rather a blunt question on a short acquaintance, Mr. Gray." "Excuse me for making it as I do, Miss Blount, but I am desirous of seeing my way more plainly than I do now. You have confessed that you are not attached to Dalton—that is, in the way which a woman should be attached to a man when she wishes to make of him her husband. Will you permit me to ask if you have such an attachment for any one else?" She shook her head negatively. Then do you think there is any hope for me?" "Come and see me occasionally," answered she. "Nous verrons!" Gray understood that she could not say more than this, and, after the encouraging words, left the house, not a little elated. He became an assiduous visitor at the house, and in the course of a month Dwight received from Miss Blount a small package. It contained the engagement-ring which Dwight had given her before his departure for Europe, when the two plighted their troth. He was not so much surprised on the receipt of the ring as one might have supposed. Its return was significant. Explanation was unnecessary, and no letter came with it. He looked at it philosophically, and said that such was life. He took out of a secretary a half-dozen photographic portraits of Miss Blount, taken when she was in health and beauty, and surrounded by the luxuries which wealth alone can give. It was a dream, said he, as he put them together in a package, along with a bundle of letters written in a feminine hand, and beginning with "My dear Dalton." These he sent back whence they came, accompanied with the following note: "MY DEAR MISS BLOUNT: You have broken our engagement. I would have done everything in my power to make you happy, had I been permitted to make the effort. I am deeply affected by your determination, but I cannot hope to change it, and I shall not attempt it. There is one thing that mitigates the pain of the breaking-off, and that is the knowledge that he who supplants me is worthy of all your esteem and affection. Since I may not be your husband, permit me to remain your friend, "DALTON Dwight." circumstances as they were before. I am sure you must be delighted to hear it, Dalton." The heart of Dwight was like lead, but he did not hesitate to say: "Anson, let me sincerely congratulate you and them." As Dwight stood before the glass, stroking out his mustache in the midst of a sombre reflection, Gray said: 'Well, Dalton, are you ready?" "All right, Prince Fortunatus; lead on." A new surprise awaited Dwight below. The pale cheeks and languid eyes were no longer the attributes of Miss Blount, but in their place were the color, form, and vivacity of health. "We are always glad to see our old friends," said she, with a slight blush, as she extended her hand to Dwight, and then turned to speak to another guest. Dwight went to Dr. Stone, who was in one corner, saying: "How remarkably well Miss Blount is looking!" 'Never was so well in her life." "How about your diagnosis?" "Men are sometimes liable to err-even doc tors." "The lung has healed?" "Evidently." "How beautiful she has become !" "Which is in accordance with a theory of mine," observed Dr. Stone. 'Pray, what is that?" "A cured phthisis is a beautifier. It softens the lines and gives gentleness of expression." The friendly relations continued to exist between Gray and Dwight as before the event, although they did not see each other so often. At the end of six months Dwight received an invitation to dinner from Mrs. Blount, at the solicitation, probably, of Gray. At the appointed time, Gray came for him in a cab, to take him up, and as they were driven along he explained to his companion that the dinnertionery, to obstruct the view, and Dwight had a fair was in honor of his engagement to Miss Blount. Dwight, seeing that the cab was driven past the street where the small house was situated in which he had last seen the Blounts, said: "The driver is going the wrong way." "But he has passed their street." "Oh, they don't live there any more. The driver knows the way-he has been there a number of times already." When they got out before the old Blount mansion, Dwight was mute with surprise. "Back-room, up-stairs," said the servant. They removed their overcoats in this room, and adjusted their toilet a moment in front of a mirror before they went below, and as they did so, Dwight observed: "So they are back in the old house?" "Yes; they have been here for the last ten days." "Then they are not ruined." "No. It did not turn out as they feared. They were for a time embarrassed, but by good management and luck they have only lost a small part of their fortune. In short, they are in nearly as good "There may be something in that, doctor." The flowers were squat; there were no high things on the table, such as centre-pieces of confec opportunity of contemplating the loveliness of Miss Blount, who sat opposite. Among the dozen guests, in the third seat from the daughter of the house, sat Gray, who, not being able to see her, looked effusively on the man who had saved his life, as he told the story to the young woman alongside of him. Dwight was not gay; he was simply decorous. He took the rose-bud out of the slender glass and fixed it in his coat-lappel, took his eyes off the young woman opposite and turned them toward the blond person alongside of him, and said to her, as she squeezed the lemon-juice over the, sacramental six: "Do you like oysters?" "I think they are lovely." "And bisque-soup, lobster-salad, and cucumbers?" "Nothing better." "All destructive to the health. I speak as a humanitarian and a physician." This was some of Dwight's surface chaff; his deeper thoughts dwelt on the probabilities of the past and the slim possibilities of the future. Between the soup and the fish he said to the young woman alongside : "Yes. I know even the evening when she be- of a way sometimes, as if you did not intend it. came so." "How long since?" "Three days ago. She did not tell me so, but I have it through my maid, who has it from Mary's maid." That is an on dit—people will talk, you know. Are you fond of music?" "He who has not,' etc." "Of course. Isn't Von Bülow lovely? So much nicer than that semi-savage Rubinstein. I'm glad "Indeed!" said he, encouraging the gossiping they placed me alongside of you, you are such a propensity of his neighbor. "Yes. On the evening in question, after Mr. Gray had left the house, she ascended to her room where her maid was waiting for her, and the maid noticed that she was heightened in color and under the influence of unusual excitement. Then followed something which concerns you, Mr. Dwight." "Pray, what was that?" pleasant talker-it's not flattery! Though Mr. Gray does not seem to be much pleased where he is-he would like to be sitting alongside of the beloved, of course. I suppose she thought it would look too sentimental; and she was wise, for he would have been sure to parade his affection-he can't hide it, for the life of him. Ardor may be excusable in a young fellow, but in a fat man of his age it's ridicu "I am afraid you will get conceited if I tell lous." you." "You cannot make me any more so than I am now. Go on." 'She took your portrait out of a drawer, and looked at it in the saddest way imaginable; and the maid is sure that she saw a tear in her eye as she put the portrait back in the drawer.-Where is my salt, please?" "Here it is," said he, placing it before her. "The fact is, I like plenty of salt in my food; don't you, Mr. Dwight?" He nodded affirmatively. "What a pretty rose-bud you have in your coat! It's such a nice fashion. I was at a dinner the other night where the women themselves put the buds into the button-holes of their partners. I thought that was very nice, too. To come back to Mary. She was always fond of flirting; and I am not entirely certain that she will become Mrs. Gray-so many slips between the cup and the lip nowadays, when it comes to marrying. Besides, I don't think she is very, very much in love with him-it isn't natural: he's more than double her age, and too fat, to say nothing of his being bald.—What a delicious entrée ! Pour me a little red wine, please." 66 "Certainly," said Dwight, pouring. "This Bordeaux is wholesome; it will do you good, although it cannot make you any handsomer than you are." 'If you are going to make me a declaration, Mr. Dwight, please wait until the dessert, otherwise it might interfere with our dinatory occupations. How do you think Mary looks to-night?" "I don't think I ever saw her look so well." "She is handsome; she has two weak points, however, which prevent her from being absolutely beautiful. Her nose turns up just a trifle too much, and her teeth, although white and in good preservation, are just a little too large." "What an eye you have, Miss Blondinette!" "I have an eye for a flaw, whether you mean what you say or not-you men are so given to compliments. But we don't believe half you say. If "Be careful, Miss Blondinette; he is a friend of mine." "My prattle won't hurt him, if he is a friend of yours, Mr. Dwight. Besides, I'm afraid your friendship-but I hardly dare to say it." 'Don't spare me, Miss Blondinette." "You promise not to be provoked?” "I give you my word." "Well, I am afraid your friendship has just a little touch in it of what Iago's friendship was for Othello." "What a méchante langue you have, Miss Blondinette!" But, to do you justice, you do treat everybody civilly, and that's a great deal." "Then I am incapable of friendship?" "I did not say that. What I mean is, that it is leavened with cynicism." "There is nothing left of me—I am entirely demolished. Here is the dessert; after the bitter things you have said, you had better take some sweets, Miss Blondinette." "I'll take an éclair. Thank you. I haven't seen you at any of the Germans. You used to dance them before you went to Europe." "If your mamma saw me whirling you round in a German, she would not call me in for even a headache. There is a time for all things, and my time for dancing the German is past." "Oh, I see-not consistent with professional dignity. But I see you occasionally patronize the kettle-drum." "Yes; the kettle-drum is inoffensive, even for a parson." "I see Mrs. Blount is preparing to rise from the table. Sans rancune, n'est-ce pas, Mr. Dwight?" "As you say, Miss Blondinette, sans rancune." When the hour for going away arrived, Dwight approached Miss Blount for the first time after making his salutation on entering, and bade her goodnight in his quiet way, but there was a sadness in his face that she could not help observing. That night when Dwight went home, he opened warming. "While I was in that house I invented his diary, and made the following note: a sauce which had a success, and which bears my name, à la Got," added he, with pride. "During many years a certain man was possessed of the idea that sagacity was his especial trait, but one night the truth was unfolded to him that he had been laboring under a delusion." In the silence of his room he gave way to a mental monologue, which, had it found utterance, would probably have run something after the following fashion: "The question is, to find out what would be more attractive to Mary Blount than wealth joined to forty years of age or upward. If she had wealth, youth, and good looks, with, say, a coronet on the top of them, within her reach, how would that do? It is reiterated in the highways and by-ways of Europe that the American girl would sooner be a countess than anything else in the world. Where there is so much smoke there must be some fire. I must find her a coronet-it is worth the trial. Even though she may not be disposed to accept it, she, with her tendency to flirting, would probably toy and dally with it long enough to produce an estrangement on the part of Gray. And, between two contending aspiring candidates, I might possibly be accepted as the man of compromise, for Gray, in his efforts to destroy the chances of a rival, would probably destroy his own. It is certainly worth the trial; and now to work." The next day, he went down into Bleecker Street, to one of the dingy cafés which line its borders, and inquired for one Pierre Got, by nationality a Frenchman, and by profession a cook, who had landed in the city about three months before. He was shown to a small upper room, where he found the man-good-looking, twenty-five years of age, and clad in well-worn garments. Got bowed to him with the cordiality of recognition, for he had known him in Paris, and requested his visitor to be seated on one of the two fragile chairs which the room contained, he standing up before him in a respectful attitude as if waiting to take his orders. Dwight waved him to the remaining chair, which he took with a bow of self-deprecation. When his visitor entered he had been smoking a brier pipe of "Caporal," which he respectfully laid aside as soon as he recognized Dwight. "You are without employment now, Pierre?" "Without employment, and without money." "Pierre, a brilliant future rises before you," said Dwight. Got pricked up his ears. "I am going to introduce you into a house where I think you will be well received and taken care of." “Do they keep a good table?" asked Pierre. "Excellent." "How is the kitchen?" "From what comes out of it, I suppose it must contain all the appurtenances necessary to culinary art. But your destiny does not take you to the kitchen in this case." "Where does it take me to, Monsieur Dwight?" "To the salon. You are not to cook the food, but to eat of it; you are not to serve, but to sit at the table." "This is a mystification." "What is your native place, Pierre ?" "De Cadet will do very well. Are you ready for a grand coup, Pierre ?" “I am ready for almost anything. I am without money, credit, or friends." "Very well, the horn of plenty shall soon be upturned before you." Shortly after Dwight's visit to Bleecker Street, a lion appeared in the society of Murray Hill. He first came into public view at a kettle-drum somewhere. How he got there was difficult to tell, for the deus ex machina who brought him out remained in the background. He had no known sponsor, but in some way was presented to one woman, and was then passed along from one to another, until he had friends and acquaintances on all sides. It is certain that Dwight had nothing to do with his presentation, for when Dwight met the Count de Cadet they were formally introduced to each other. The young nobleman commanded the suffrages of the young women almost as soon as they made his acquaintHis card became the ornament of many a "Fortune does not seem to have been kind to card-basket, and his tone, bearing, and broken Engyou since I saw you in Paris," said Dwight, speak-lish, became the themes of common admiration. ing to him in his own language. "I was not satisfied to let well enough alone, Monsieur Dwight, but was tempted in a weak hour to try my luck in the New World." ance. Each "set" endeavored to monopolize him, and most of the young women took advantage of the occasion to speak to him in his own euphonious tongue. He showed from the first a partiality for "You appeared to be in a good place when I the society of Miss Blount, and his advances in this was in Paris, Pierre." direction were met at least half-way. "Yes, in the house of the Baron de Jarnac, where you used to come occasionally to dine. I was chef in his kitchen, and you have tasted of the quality of my work-you know what I can do." In the new world to which Count de Cadet was introduced, he was soon made aware of the fact that the chief aim of each woman was to be "in society," but he was unable to discover the mysterious boun"I appreciated it, Pierre, I assure you. The daries which inclosed it. Several persons told him, last time I dined with the baron, I recollect there in a spirit of friendly guidance, that such and such was a certain suprême de volaille which I shall not a person was not of the Brahmans, whom he met, easily forget." and thus he remained in doubt as to the people who “Ah, monsieur recollects that," said Pierre, | composed the distinguished circle. He found, more over, that no three women were of the same opinion on this interesting subject. The distinctions of class, however, occupied him but little, for he evidently had a purpose. Miss Blondinette became one of his friends, and danced the German with him, and she discovered that, although he could not do the Boston, it being unknown in his country, he had a step à trois temps which was charming. She, of course, spoke to him in his own beautiful language, and with the volubility, incorrectness, and accent, common to many of the young women who learn it in six months. The heart of Miss Blondinette was touched as she sat alongside of her partner that night. Her eyes dwelt admiringly on the coronet as it glittered on his sleeve-buttons, and in his claque reposing on his knees. Her admiration was so pointed that he could not be otherwise than gallant. He was sure her heart was as good and tender as spring peas, and she was as handsome as an ortolan of the Café Anglais. These compliments had a savor of the culinary department which she relished as among the amiable eccentricities of the noble De Cadet. The revolutions in one of the figures of the dance reminded him of a string of chickens on a turningspit, and, when he said this, Miss Blondinette was convinced that he was witty as well as handsome. It is probable that, as Miss Blondinette contemplated the sleeve-buttons and the ornament of the claque, a vague longing came into her mind that she would like to put what her eyes dwelt on at the top of her note-paper and on the panels of her coupé. But, if she entertained an ambitious hope of this kind, he did not share it. As has been said, Count de Cadet had a purpose, and it consisted in directing his addresses to Miss Blount, somewhat to the chagrin of Miss Blondinette and her companions. If the sultan had not thrown his handkerchief, he seemed to be on the point of doing so. Yet to while away the time which was not spent with or near Miss Blount, he liked to talk with Miss Blondinette about carp à la Chambord, pheasant à la Sainte Alliance, and other kindred things of a toothsome nature. She could not understand why he admired Miss Blount; besides, she was engaged to the fat man with the bald head. Engaged or not engaged," returned the count, "she is as beautiful as a Périgord truffle, and, as for the fat man, he is anything but an Adonis or a Bayard." The assiduities of the Count de Cadet in the direction of Miss Blount created some alarm in the mind of Gray, which that disciple of Machiavelli, Dwight, observed with satisfaction. The engaged man asked Dwight who this foreign suitor was, and that person answered that he only knew him as every one else knew him-in short, that they were, comparatively speaking, strangers. Already he saw the cloud coming over the sunny face of Gray-saw the brow knit with jealousy, and saw a provoking smile on the face of his rival. Meanwhile Dwight looked on tranquilly as the two puppets were moved against each other by an unseen hand. One evening especially, while De Cadet, Gray, and he were at dinner in the house of Mrs. Blount, Monsieur de Cadet sat alongside of the daughter of the hostess, and made several ardent speeches to her in his own tongue, which ruffled Gray not a little, and impelled him to address De Cadet in a curt manner, which evidently displeased Miss Blount. During the repast the conversation turned on the table, concerning which Monsieur de Cadet talked with a marvelous fluency, explaining in more or less technical terms how certain dishes were prepared, when Dwight brought down his foot on his toes under the table. Then he changed the conversation, not, however, before Gray had observed that he would have made an excellent cook, which showed that Gray's bile was gathering. As they passed into the smoking-room, the foreigner found himself for a moment alone with Dwight, to whom he spoke in an undertone of the attractions of the kitchen with a sigh such as the Israelites must have drawn when they thought of the flesh-pots of Egypt. As Dwight looked at the rivals smoking-one florid and stout, with an audible breath; and the other symmetrical, handsomely-featured, and young, with a coronet to confer-he could easily understand Miss Blount's state of mind. She received his attentions without probably having any idea of breaking her engagement with Gray. She regarded their intercourse simply as a flirtation-one of the privileges of the woman on this side of the Atlantic until she is married. But De Cadet did not come from a country possessing such a custom, and he apparently took for granted that she encouraged him to go further in the path he was in. The gentleness and warmth with which she treated him, and which is permitted on these shores, led him into error as to his actual relations with her. Thus, after an evening during which he had been more than usually tender, he repaired with a triumphant air to the lodgings of Dwight, telling him that the citadel had at length surrendered. "I make you my compliments, Count de Cadet," said Dwight; "you are destructive to woman's peace of mind. In other words, Pierre Got, you have shown an art and a zeal that I hardly expected of you." Pierre Got stroked his mustache, and said, with becoming modesty, that he had done what he could. "You know the explosion is to come-in short, you are ready to accept the consequences, Pierre ?" 66 I considered all that beforehand. I know what is to come." "Very well. Take yourself off, Pierre, for your reputation will soon be in shreds.” After receiving this information, Dwight thought the time was at hand for lighting the train which was to blow up the Count de Cadet, and he proceeded to inform Gray that he had discovered that the foreigner was an impostor-that his proper place was among the pots and pans. The result followed which Dwight anticipated. In an exasperated mood Gray immediately called on Miss Blount, and exposed the soi-disant Count de |