The initials "C. G." were marked in delicate embroidery on all the garments. Next came a lot of gentleman's handkerchiefs marked in the same way, and with them half a dozen thread cambric, lace-bordered handkerchiefs, evidently intended for a lady's use, and without mark. The next thing was a dress-suit, in which we took very little interest: then a yellow sheet of paper that we seized eagerly. We hoped it was a letter, but it was a poem without date or signature, written in French: Qu'elle est belle la marquise! Que sa toilette est exquise! Gants glacees a dix boutons, Et bottines hauts talons! Qu'elle est belle la marquise! Quelles delices, quel delire, Dans sa bouche et son sourire! Et sa voix--qui ne dirait Que le rossignol chantait? Qu'elle est belle la marquise! La marquise! ma marquise! Bel amour est sa devise, Et sa profession de foi Est: je vous aime--aimez moi! Qu'elle est belle la marquise! "Oh, how interesting!" cried Lilly. "I shall die if I don't find out something more about him." "You'll never hear of him again," said I, "so make up your mind to die." "Perhaps he had left one he loved," said Uncle David, "and she waited for him day after day, and he never came back to her." Uncle David's voice was as sad as the echo in a tomb. I thought I saw tears in the misty blue eyes behind the spectacles; and I believe at that moment, for the first time in my life, I realized that Uncle David, old and gray and wrinkled though he was, had a heart that had suffered. "Well," said Lilly, shaking back her hair impatiently, "is there anything more?" "Only this little box." We opened the box, and there, on a bed of pink cotton, were a pair of cuff-buttons, the most elegant we had ever seen. They were onyx, with diamond stars for a centre. The diamonds were all small except the central ones, that were like the dewdrops at the tips of narrow leaves. "How beautiful!" cried Lilly. "These diamonds are of great value," said Uncle David, examining them critically. "But this man must have had friends," said I: "there must be some one in the world to whom these things ought to belong." "Until those friends are found," said Lilly, "I propose that we act as Mr. Unknown's heir and executors. You can have the handkerchiefs, Stell, and I will take these buttons: they could be made into lovely earrings." "Oh, Lilly! should you like to wear them?" "Certainly: why not?" and Lilly ran to the glass and held one of the darkly-shining stones against her pale, pretty cheek.--"Don't oppose it, aunty dear. Only think! fifteen years and the man not heard from!" "Here are his initials again," said I, picking up the other button, on whose gold side the initials were engraved. "'C. G.'--Constant Gower? Colton Goran?" "What nonsense, Stell!" interrupted Lilly.--"Tell me, Aunt Nanny--may I have the buttons?"