Her rich masses of dark hair were elaborately dressed, with one long curl hanging down upon her neck, and enhancing its whiteness by contrast; the uncovered shoulders were plump and shapely, and the full, snowy bosom rose and fell tumultuously under the cloud of beautifully fine lace that veiled, not concealed, its voluptuous curves.
"Mme.

la Marquise de Bruyeres!" cried Leander, astonished to the highest degree, and not a little agitated, as the remembrance of his last, and first, attempt to meet her, and what he had found in her place, rushed back upon him; "can it be possible?
am I dreaming?
or may I dare to believe in such unhoped-for, transcendent happiness ?" "Yes; you are not mistaken, my dear friend," said she, "I am indeed the Marquise de Bruyeres, and recognised, I trust, by your heart as well as your eyes." "Ah! but too well," Leander replied, in thrilling tones.

"Your adored image is cherished there, traced in living lines of light; I have only to look into that devoted, faithful heart, to see and worship your beauteous form, endowed with every earthly grace, and radiant with every heavenly perfection." "I thank you," said the marquise, "for having retained such a kind and tender remembrance of me; it proves that yours is a noble, magnanimous soul.

You had every reason to think me cruel, ungrateful, false--when, alas! my poor heart in reality is but too susceptible, and I was far from being insensible to the passionate admiration you so gracefully testified for me.

Your letter addressed to me did not reach my hands, but unfortunately fell into those of the marquis--through the heartless treachery of the faithless maid to whom it was intrusted--and he sent you the answer which so cruelly deceived you, my poor Leander! Some time after he showed me that letter, laughing heartily over what he was wicked enough to call a capital joke; that letter, in every line of which the purest, most impassioned love shone so brightly, and filled my heart with joy, despite his ridicule and coarse abuse.