"Two years?" replied my uncle. "Is it really two years?"

"Consult your log-books, if they have not been buried with your friend."

"Ah! forgive me, dear Eudoxia, I have had during all this time most

important business."

"Yes," continued my aunt, "we all know what important business you have;

I've heard some fine accounts of you. Do you know what Lord Clifden told

me at St. Petersburg three months ago, while complimenting me upon my

widow's mourning, which, by the way, suited me extremely well? He told

me that during your lifetime you had been a bigamist."

"What a likely story!" exclaimed my uncle, boldly.

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"He assured me that he had seen you at Madras with a Spanish woman, you

old traitor! She was young and pretty, and passed openly by the name of

Señora Barbassou. It was surely not worth while making me elope with

you, in order that you might treat me in this fashion!"

"Lord Clifden told you a story, my dear, and a very silly story too. I

hope you did not believe a word of it?"

"Upon my word, you are such an eccentric character, you know!" she

answered, with a laugh.

"And what have you been doing yourself?" continued my uncle, whose

coolness had not deserted him for an instant; "where have you been?"

"Oh, if I were to reckon back to the day you left me, I should lose

myself!" replied my aunt. "A year ago, at this season, I was on my

estate in the Crimea, where I vegetated for five months; then I spent

the winter at St. Petersburg, and the spring at my château in Corfu,

where I had the advantage of a comfortable place in which to mourn over

you. Finally I had been two months at Vienna, when I received from my

steward eight days ago the letter in which you did me the honour of

informing me both of your resurrection and of your desire to see me. I

quickly made my farewell calls, started off, and here I am! Now," she

added, holding out a plaid to him, "if you will kindly allow me to

change these travelling clothes, you will make my happiness complete."

"I am waiting to take you to your room," replied my uncle.

"Nephew," she said to me with a curtsey, "prepare to minister to my

caprices; I have plenty of them when I love.--In return let me say to

you, Take it for granted."




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