"Oh yes! did you not know it? She has been dead twelve months!"

"Did you ever hear such a thing, wife?" said Monsieur Heppe, looking at his wife with an astounded air on his face. "But, after all, it is just like your father! He never did like to speak of anything unpleasant. Well, well! Poor man! lost his wife! Yes, you are certainly like her. Stay! I have her likeness; and now I think of it, I have your portrait too. Run, Annette, and fetch it. You will find it in my study-the third drawer on the left."

"My portrait!" cried Beaufort, in real alarm, for he felt he must be detected

now.

"Yes. Of course we were a little anxious to know what our-hemwhat you were like, you know; and so I got a young friend of mine, an artist, who was going down into your part of the country, to try and manage to take a portrait of you without letting any one know. It is only a pencil-drawing, you know; but still it gives a very good idea of-Oh! here, Annette, bring it here, my child," as the young lady entered the room with the picture in her hand.

Heartily did Beaufort wish all artists in general, and that particular portrait painter especially, at the devil; but a momentary glance that he got of his supposed likeness set him instantly at ease, for he could see that it did not bear the slightest resemblance to young Villiers, though at the same time he could not but acknowledge that it was not a bit like himself.

"Yes; I say it is very like-very like, indeed; they are his eyes, nose, mouth!" exclaimed Madame Heppe, who at every word looked first at the drawing and then at Beaufort.

"But you must have worn your hair very differently to what you do now," remarked Monsieur Heppe, peering at Beaufort over his spectacles.

son at all between the two-at least, so Beaufort interpreted them.

"But you have some letters for me, eh?"

"Oh yes! a whole lot!" replied Beaufort, glad enough that the portrait difficulty was so easily got over; "and a packet for mademoiselle," he added, handing Annette a small box carefully wrapped up in a multiplicity of papers.

"Eh?-why, what is this?" exclaimed papa and mamma, as a pair of earrings, and a bracelet to match, appeared to view.

"It is a small present from my father," said Beaufort, quietly, who remembered perfectly that young Villiers had been very particular in his directions concerning the packet in question, as it contained a present of jewelry from his father to his intended daughter-in-law. Of course, Beaufort had to fasten the bracelet on Annette's plump little arm, which he was a very long time in doing, for, somehow or other, the clasp would not act properly; and he would have been very glad, doubtless, to have put the earrings in their proper place, too, only that Annette forestalled him.

"And now for the letters," said the old gentleman, after duly admiring the handsome present. "Let me see, that's from your father, and this from your uncle!"

"What is your uncle's name?" asked Madame Heppe. "I always forget it."

Beaufort sincerely wished her memory had been better on this occasion, but replied, "My uncle's name did you say? Why its-"

"Bertin," answered Monsieur Heppe. "Why, wife, what a head you've got."

"Yes, Bertolin," put in Beaufort, who had only imperfectly heard what Monsieur Heppe had said.

"Bertolin? Why on earth do you call him Bertolin, when he signs himself Bertin?" cried Monsieur Heppe, again peer

at him over his spectacles.

"Now did I really say Bertolin? How very strange!" answered Beaufort, laughing.

'Well, they'll keep till to-morrow. And now, wife, while I go and see after the wine, do you tell them we are ready for dinner." And Madame, taking her husband's arm and hint, walked out of

the room, and Beaufort found himself alone with Annette.

Beaufort was not slow to avail himself of the opportunity of saying a few words to his companion, and so well did he employ his time that he succeeded beyond his expectations in driving away the bashfulness which had hitherto sealed Annette's lips. Of course he did not talk about the projected union, and Aunette thought it very nice of him not to do so, but discoursed about matters which he thought would interest her. Presently he espied a piano.

"Ah! you sing! How charming! Would you oblige me with a little song, and I'll try my best to accompany you?" Perhaps Annette might have felt rather shy at singing a solo, but it was quite a different thing when he was going to accompany her, and she sat down without the slightest hesitation to the piano. In the middle of the duet the old folks again entered the room to announce the dinner, and looked at each other with a self-satisfied air, which said quite plainly:

"You see, my love, there is no fear!" At table Beaufort of course sat between the mother and daughter. The dinner was well cooked; the wines excellent; M. Heppe a good host; and Beaufort a very pleasant guest, so that altogether it was a very nice little dinner party indeed.

Amongst other topics of conversation Monsieur Heppe asked his guest whether he had any hopes of getting the appointment to which his father had alluded in a previous letter.

"Oh! I have it already. I am appointed Under-Prefect in one of the Departments," answered Beaufort, on the spur of the moment.

"What! What do you say? You are an Under-Prefect already? Why on earth did not your father say so in his letter, then?.. but that is just like him, too! But how did you get the appointment, my dear friend?”

"My uncle got it for me!"
"Your uncle Bertin?"

"Yes, quite true, my uncle Bertin. In his younger days, you know, he served in the army with the present Minister of the Interior, and they became great friends, so-"

"What! your uncle, the carpet-maker, in the army? That's the first I ever heard of it!"

"Oh, yes!" replied Beaufort, quite composedly, perceiving he had made another error, "it was during the Revolution, you know, as a common soldier."

"Very strange, indeed; well it's news to me. But I suppose everybody was a soldier then... But who would have thought of old Bertin, a man who could never add up a column of five figures in his life, having such influence! Well! here's to your very good health, Monsieur Under-Prefect, and may you soon be Prefect."

This intelligence added greatly to the merriment of the party, for it set the father's and mother's minds at ease on one score, as they had not liked the idea of their future son-in-law being quite without occupation. Neither did Annette seem altogether quite uninterested in the announcement, for her eyes again sparkled with their former brilliancy, and any one who had seen her might have said that she had certainly just heard something which had caused her a great deal of pleasure.

By this time it was getting late, for the hours had passed so agreeably that Beaufort was quite astonished on looking at the clock on the mantel-piece, to find that it was already half-past five.

At six o'clock he was to meet his uncle, General G- He must, therefore, he felt, leave at once. But how could he manage it? What excuses could he make? Now whether he had drunk too much champagne, or whether his intoxication proceeded from a totally dif ferent source, it is very difficult to say; but being of an extremely impulsive disposition, a thought suddenly entered his head, which he determined at once to act upon.

"Where are you going to?" asked Monsieur Heppe in surprise, as Beaufort rose up from his seat to make his adieu, and expressed his sorrow at being obliged to return to Paris at once, as he had some important business to transact that evening.

"Why, we have asked several of our neighbors to meet you this evening at eight o'clock!"

"I am truly sorry," answered Beau

fort, "but it is quite impossible. It is now half-past five, and at six-"

"Well! what is going to happen at six?" interrupted Monsieur Heppe, in a tone which betrayed a little vexation in it. "I have some pressing business to transact, and my presence is indispensable!"

Why, now, you really cannot have such pressing business the first day you ever came to Paris in your life."

"But I assure you, my dear sir, it is of that nature that any stranger to Paris might have to perform."

"Excuse me, then, if it is not asking too much, may I inquire what this important business is which is going to deprive us so unexpectedly of your company?"

"At six o'clock I am to be buried!"

A loud shout of laughter from Monsieur Heppe, in which both the ladies joined, followed this announcement. "But you are not going to be buried before you are dead!" cried old Heppe, leaning back in his chair, while the tears literally rolled down his fat cheeks.

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"Oh no!" answered Beaufort, looking as grave and demure as possible; "but I have already gone through that part of the business. I will tell you. I arrived in Paris yesterday evening. It was too late to come on here" (though I sincerely wish I had done so), and he glanced at Annette, "so I went to the operahouse, where I got embroiled in a quarrel with some gentleman. He challenged me, and this morning at six o'clock I was shot through the heart. I was carried back to the hotel. All the necessary arrangements have been made for my funeral, which is to take place at six o'clock this evening. So I really must bid you adieu!"

"Ha-ha-haha!" roared out old Heppe. "Capital joke, indeed!" "But I am in earnest," replied Beaufort; "here is the medical certificate, attesting my death."

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Medical fiddlesticks! why, man, what do I want a certificate for, when you have just dined with me (and made a good dinner, too, I think), and have been singing duets with Annette there? Certificate, indeed! that's certificate enough for me!" and he laughed again till he turned quite black in the face. "Ah!

I see how it is, you want to run away for an hour or two, you joker. But mind, now, if you are not here by eight o'clock I shall send after you, whether you are buried or not."

Meanwhile Beaufort turned to the girl by his side, and, in a low tone, said: "Mademoiselle Heppe! to have made your acquaintance ought to be enough happiness for me. Believe me, that I

shall ever reckon the last few hours among the happiest of my existence. Do not therefore doubt that, if it be possible, no long time will elapse before I see you again. Till then, your image will be indelibly impressed here." And, with these words, he placed his hand on his heart, and bowing once more, passed through the door, and hurried into the

street.

It was some little time before Beaufort succeeded in arousing the coachman; who, tired of waiting for his fare, had gone fast asleep. At length, however, he roused him up to a state of consciousness, and bidding him drive as quickly as possible to the hotel, threw himself back on the seat, and employed the time in building castles in the air. "He was Prefect; Annette and he had just been married, and-" when the cabriolet pulled up at the hotel door, and interrupted him in the very middle of his interesting reverie.

On alighting from the carriage, Beaufort's first question was to inquire about the funeral, which he learned had taken place at the time appointed, and his second to ask whether General de G-— had arrived.

Being answered in the affirmative, he therefore lost no time in repairing to his uncle's room.

"Glad to see you punctual, my dear boy; for we have no time to lose. A letter, just received, says you must go down to your post at once; so we must start this very night. How long before you are ready, eh?"

"In an hour," answered Beaufort, despondingly, on whom the announcement fell like a thunderbolt. However, there was no help for it. To offend his uncle, by proposing to delay his departure, he felt was out of the question. But it was most vexatious. Well, he must write to Monsieur Heppe an explanatory letter

when he arrived at his destination, for there was no time to do it now.

In an hour's time they set off as fast as four horses could carry them, and late the following afternoon arrived at the town of To Beaufort's dismay and horror, however, when that same night he seated himself to indite the promised letter of explanation, he could not remember Monsieur Heppe's address; Villiers had written it on a card which he, like a fool, had handed to the man who drove him there. What was he to do? Heppe was about the commonest name in Paris; there would be sure to be half a dozen of that name in every street; and, whether his Monsieur Heppe was a merchant, banker, or broker, he had not the remotest idea. It would never do, therefore, to write a letter of that delicate nature (for he fully intended proposing himself as a substitute for young Villiers), and not know into whose hands it might fall. So, with a heavy heart he closed up his desk again, resolving to ask for a few days' leave, on the earliest opportunity, when he would immediately repair to the capital, where he confidently expected he should have no difficulty in finding his way to the house where the fair Annette lived.

Meanwhile, let us return to the Heppe family, who were anxiously awaiting the return of their visitor.

It was past eight, and already the room was full of company; but he whom they had been invited to meet had not yet arrived. Nine o'clock struck, ten, eleven, and yet he had not come. It was no use waiting any longer, so bidding adieu to their host and hostess, and adding many regrets at their disappointment in not having been able to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Villiers, they took their leave.

"Well! this is very strange treatment, my dear," remarked old Heppe to his wife, as soon as they were alone.

"So unaccountable too," chimed in the lady;" he seemed so well bred, and so gentlemanly, and so very attentive to our dear Annette, that I cannot understand it at all."

"Nor I either; but to-morrow, the first thing, I will go to his hotel and learn all about it, before he again honors us with a visit," said Monsieur Heppe, in a tone of indignation.

Next morning, after swallowing an early breakfast, the old gentleman set out on his errand, quite determined in his own mind, if the young man did not account for his absence the previous evening in a satisfactory manner, to inform him that he should decline the honor of his further acquaintance.

"I say, husband, an idea has just occurred to me," said Madame Heppe, as he was leaving the house; "you remember how he made us all laugh last night, when he told us he had been shot in a duel, and was going to be buried? Now I should not wonder if he really had got into some quarrel, and that he was to fight a duel this very morning, and that he adopted that method of preparing us for the worst. Make haste to town then, my love; you may be in time yet to stop it."

Monsieur Heppe needed no other persuasions to hasten his steps, and in a surprisingly short time had arrived at the door of the Hotel de Ville, breathless, and ready to drop with the exertion he had undergone.

"Is Monsieur Villiers here?" he inquired of a waiter, as soon as he could speak.

"No, monsieur, he is here no longer," was the reply; "he only lay here one night."

"Where has he gone to, then?" "To Père Lachaisse."

"What do you mean, fellow ?" "Why, that he was buried yesterday at six o'clock, monsieur."

"Buried!" shrieked Monsieur Heppe, in the greatest consternation; "are you mad, or drunk-or do you take me for a fool, you stupid? Buried! impossible, I tell you!"

"Nothing more possible, monsieur," answered the waiter, civilly; "seeing that he was shot through the heart."

"Fool! pig! beast!" ejaculated Monsieur Heppe, in a great passion.

"I tell you, monsieur, that the gentleman went out to fight a duel yesterday morning, and that he was brought home quite dead in a cabriolet, and was buried yesterday evening at six o'clock. But monsieur had better speak to the landlord, as he seems to doubt me."

But the landlord exactly confirmed the waiter's story; and seeing that Monsieur Heppe still appeared incredulous, invited

him up into the room recently occupied by the young man.

There, in a corner, lay his portmanteau, with his name in full on the top of it; and on the table the fragment of a letter, which Monsieur Heppe immediately recognized as being in the hand-writing of his old friend Villiers.

There was no longer any room for doubt. The young man must be dead! And yet, had he not dined in his house on the afternoon of the very day on which it was said he had been killed? And old Heppe became so puzzled, and perplexed, and nervous, that on his return home his wife scarcely recognized him, so long and grave had his usual cheerful-looking face become.

"It must have been a real ghost, then, that we had to dinner," he ejaculated, crossing himself devoutly, after he had recounted to his wife all that he had been able to learn from the landlord of the hotel.

"Gracious Lord! and perhaps he'll come again; let us go and speak to the priest about it," added Madame Heppe, now really frightened.

Annette, meanwhile, had retired to her own room. Of course, she was very much shocked at what she had heard, but still she did not participate in the alarm evinced by her parents. Villiers had made such a deep impression on her young heart; deeper, perhaps, because of the fears she had entertained that she should not like him. Little had she expected to find in her proposed suitor, a young man possessed of the most facinating manners, evidently highly accomplished, and of a disposition particularly agreeable. And could he be dead? Had he then risen from the grave in order to keep his promise to her? She had heard of ghosts, but she had never believed in such things; at all events, if it had been a ghost, it must have been a sign that he did not think her altogether unworthy of him.

In due time a letter arrived from Monsieur Villiers, in which he deplored the untimely end of his son; and thus every doubt was removed from the minds of the old folks, who, it may be added, lived in constant dread of having another visit paid them by a denizen of the spirit world.

we

Gradually, however, they began to recover their wonted spirits, and as no ghost appeared, soon left off talking about the matter. Indeed, on one or two occasions, old Heppe got quite jocular on the subject. "After all, you know," he said one evening to his wife, really ought to feel highly honored. It is not every one who can boast of having entertained so distinguished a visitor; and I must say, wife, he seemed to do uncommon justice to your dinner. Generally, you know, ghosts come in the middle of the night, and vanish as suddenly as they appear; but ours actually drove up in a carriage and pair. But there is still one thing that is a mystery; you know he told us he had been appointed Under-Prefect, and I see by today's paper that a Monsieur Beaufort has been named to fill the post to which he alluded.

There was one person, however, in the neighborhood who felt no little joy at the turn things had taken. Monsieur Lamont, a wealthy tradesman had some weeks previously, in a private interview with Monsieur Heppe, asked permission to be allowed to pay his addresses to his daughter.

"It is impossible," was the answer; "my daughter's hand is already promised. But believe me, my dear Lamont, had such not been the case, I would willingly have given my consent, for I entertain the highest opinion possible of you."

Now that young Villiers was dead, Monsieur Lamont thought that there could not be the slightest objection to his again preferring his suit. Accordingly, about a couple of months after the above events had taken place, he paid old Heppe a visit, and reminded him of the words he had used on a former occasion.

"Certainly; and I'm sure I should be very happy to have you for a son-in-law; but Annette, I must tell you, is not the same girl she was. She is absent in manner, seems to brood over some hidden thought, and has quite lost her former cheerfulness. I think, if the subject were proposed to her now, she would answer with a decided refusal. I would, then, advise you to wait; and be sure, my dear friend, I will see to your interests."

Thanks, thanks! But how long do