I think it was a sort of instinct dictated my reply, “One of my own countrywomen, my lord,” I answered, “the companion of my childhood, the friend of my youth. I know that you judge it best for every one to marry one of his own country—she is the daughter of the Comte de Salins, and a nobler or a purer name is not to be found for five hundred years—is not to be found in the pages of French history.”
“Well, well,” said the old earl, “I shall be very happy to see her;” and he signed the parchment, adding, “Bring her here, my good boy, bring her here. You will soon know if I like her. If I do I shall kiss her, and don’t you be jealous; if I do not I shall give her three fingers, and call her Mademoiselle;” and he laughed gayly.
Two days afterward, my mother and I brought up Mariette to visit the old earl. She was looking exquisitely lovely, her eyes full of the light of hope and happiness, her face glowing with sweet emotions, and her frame tremulous with feelings which added grace to all her graces. She leaned upon my mother’s arm, as we entered the room where the old earl received us, and I could perceive as he gazed at her, that he was surprised and struck with her extraordinary beauty. It was impossible to look upon that face and form and not be captivated. He rose from his chair at once, advanced and took her in his arms, and kissing her with more tenderness than I ever saw him display, he said, “Welcome, welcome, my dear child. If Louis does not make you a good husband, I will strike him out of my will, so see that you keep him in order.”
Westover and I were married on the same day. I have no reason to doubt that he was happy, and of my own fate I am very sure.
By a decree of the Cour de Cassation in the first year of the reign of Louis XVIII., by the grace of God King of France, the sentence passed upon Louis, Comte de Lacy, was, after a great many vus, and interrogés broken, and annulled, the memory of the said count rehabilitee, and his family, restored to all their estates and honors. Nevertheless, we find a Count and Countess De Lacy still living in England in 1830, and there are strong and cogent reasons to believe that the very numerous family bearing that name, had by some means or another, sprung up around them.
MY FOREFATHERS.
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BY J. HUNT, JR.