CHAPTER XII.

THE AMERICAN LIFE OF A FOREIGN ADVENTURER.

"Who will believe that, with a smile whose blessing

Would, like the patriarch's, soothe a dying hour;

With voice as low, as gentle and caressing
As e'er won maiden's lip in moonlit bower;
With look like patient Job's, eschewing evil,
With motions graceful as a bird's in air—
Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil."

HALLECK.

GASPARD DE BRIE was a man of politic nature, fond of scheming, cool and unimpressible, but polished in manner, with imperturbable selfpossession, and a power of assuming the appearance of any degree of enthusiasm which he judged necessary for the occasion. resolved to trust for awhile to his own resources before drawing any part of his wife's supposed large fortune-believing that she would probably receive only an allowance during her

He

father's life, and her share of his property at his death.

Fierce was his rage and disappointment at the discovery of the truth; and the spell of his wife's beauty was too feeble to bind him to her when the more potent charm was wanting. The reputation of having married an heiress was of some service to him, and even this advantage made it worth while to keep up the appearance of a good understanding. He treated her with politeness in public, but in private indulged himself in sneers and harsh words, although he refrained from any further

ill-treatment.

Poor Matilda was no less disappointed. Her imagination had supplied her husband with many attributes to which he could lay no claim. As yet she had no suspicion of his real character; but one by one her hopes deserted her.

The summer and fall were spent at various watering-places, and Matilda endeavored to conceal, even from herself, her growing unhap

piness, by entering into the busy idleness of fashionable life, as if she fancied she could banish reflection and grief for ever, instead of only deferring their dreaded approaches. As a bride, a Baroness, and a supposed heiress, she would have attracted attention; but when to all these were added beauty, a graceful manner, and a fine and well cultivated voice, the admiration she excited was almost unbounded.

Trained all her life for display, it was only natural that she should feel pride and pleasure in the homage of all around her—a pleasure increased by the evident effect it produced on her husband. He became more assiduous, more desirous of pleasing her and adding to her comfort, and at last revived in her mind a faint hope that all was not lost.

The fact was, that he had suddenly conceived a project in which her co-operation was necesand for which it was no less needful that she should have no idea of the aid she was affording.

sary,

He had never undeceived her with regard

to his real position, and she believed him to be in the receipt of a large income from his French estates, but compelled to reside here. for political reasons. The gay and lavish life they were leading was certainly not calculated to undeceive one who had never looked below the surface. Her letters to her mother and sister were filled with descriptions of balls, pleasure parties, sojourns of a few weeks at a time here and there; and at last she wrote that they were going to New Orleans.

"Here," she said, "we expect to reside for the future. Of course, we shall visit the north during the heat of summer; but this will be our home."

Julia sighed as she read, to think how little Matilda could ever know of the happiness that little word might convey.

Succeeding letters told of their establish

ment.

"An old friend of my husband, having lost his wife within the last few months, has consented to let us occupy the apartments origi

nally furnished for her use. I am surrounded by every luxury that wealth and taste can give the arrangements are faultlessly superb. I have my own attendants, and all the comfort of a private house, with the freedom of a hotel. Our meals are served in our own dining-room. My parlors are thronged nightly with cheerful guests. I rarely see the master of the house, except when he occasionally spends an hour with us in the early part of the evening. I have many acquaintances, but no friends: still -I do not need them. I am happy. I do not, will not think of what might—of what I might have been."

While Mrs. Lyndsay was congratulating herself on the brilliant position thus occupied. by her daughter, the Baron and his confederate felt by no means so well satisfied; and long and anxious were their consultations how best to profit by their present advantages.

"I tell you, De Brie, this cannot last much longer."

"Have patience, mon ami; have patience."