"My happiness destroyed!" cried Alice, surprised and alarmed—"what mean you! Do you allude to my marriage to-morrow with the Chevalier Duvall? Yes, I see you do. Silly girl, that marriage will render me the happiest of women; what reason have you for supposing otherwise? The Chevalier loves me, and I sincerely reciprocate his affection; so dry your tears, for you know you are to be bridesmaid, and smiles better become you than tears."
These words were spoken in the kindest and gentlest tone; but Fanny exclaimed—
"Miss Alice, you are cruelly deceived in that man."
"Deceived!" cried the young lady—"what mystery is hidden in your words? Oh, if you love me, Fanny—and you have often told me that you did—instantly explain the meaning of your dreadful declaration."
"Listen to me, Miss Alice," said Fanny, with a calmness that strangely contrasted with her previous agitation—"and I will tell you plainly what I have seen, and what I think. To you I owe everything: the comforts of a home, the kindness of a friend, and the benefits of a superior education, now enjoyed by my brother and myself—two poor orphans, who, but for your benevolence, would be dependent upon the world's cold charity. My gratitude I can never express; my heart alone can feel it—but oh! believe me, I would gladly lay down my life to promote your happiness. How, then, can I see future years of misery awaiting you, without tears of anguish—without feeling an intense anxiety to preserve you from a fate ten times worse than death?"
"Do not interrupt me, I pray you," continued Fanny, seeing that Alice was about to speak—"To-morrow you are engaged to be married to the man calling himself the Chevalier Duvall. When I first saw him, I was struck with his beauty and accomplishments—his brilliant wit, and graceful manners; and when, in sisterly confidence, you informed me that he was your affianced husband, you know how warmly I congratulated you on having won the affections of a man who, as I then believed, was in every way calculated to make you happy.
"Alice, I tell you that man is a villain!" cried Fanny, with startling emphasis—"I saw him pick your father's pocket of the money that was lost; yes, I alone saw him do it; that was the cause of my agitation and tears. Do not marry him, for he is a robber and a scoundrel!"
"Say no more, Miss Aubrey," said Alice, rising with an air of cold dignity, which plainly indicated her entire disbelief of the statement she had just heard—"Say no more: you have mistaken your position, when you seek to prejudice me against a gentleman whom I am so soon to call my husband. Nay, not a word more—I will not listen to you. The Chevalier Duvall is the very soul of honor; and to accuse him—how can I say it?—of the crime of theft, is so preposterous that it would be ludicrous under any other circumstances. Fanny, I can scarcely believe that you have been actuated by jealousy in telling this dreadful story; I will try to think that your eyes deceived you, and that you really thought that you saw the Chevalier do as you have said. But oh! how mistaken you are, unhappy girl! when you impute such a crime to one of the noblest and best of men."
"But, Miss Alice," cried Fanny, almost angrily—for she was certain of the truth of her statement—"I tell you that I am not mistaken; I saw—"
"Silence, I entreat—I command you!" cried the young lady, now thoroughly indignant at the disgraceful accusation which had been brought against her lover—"speak not another word to me on this odious subject, or you forfeit my friendship forever. Good night; learn in future to be more discreet."