“Plain enough, I think,” cried MacNaghten; “it is, 'Madame la Comtesse de Carew, à son Château, ou en Ville, Irlande.'” “At all events, it is for me,” said my mother, breaking the seal with impatience. Scarcely had she opened the letter when she exclaimed, “Oh, la bonne chance,--only think, Walter, here is Emile de Gabriac coming to Ireland!” “You forget, dearest, that I have never seen him,” said my father, dryly. “Does that signify?” said she, with enthusiastic rapidity. “Is he not known over all Europe by reputation? That dear Emile, so good, so generous, so handsome, so full of accomplishments,--rides so perfectly, sings so beautifully. Ah, ma chère, c'est fait de vous,” said she to Polly, “when you see him.” Polly only smiled and bowed, with an arch look of submission, while my father broke in,-- “But how comes it that so much brilliancy should waste itself on the unprofitable atmosphere of Ireland? What is bringing him here?” My mother continued to read on, heedless of the question, not, however, without showing by her countenance the various emotions which the letter excited; for while, at times, her color came and went, and her eyes filled with tears, a smile would pass suddenly across her features, and at last a merry burst of laughter stopped her. “Shall I read it for you?” cried she, “for it will save me a world of explanations. This is dated from our dear old country-house on the Loire, Château de Lesieux:-- “'April 20th. “'Ma chère et ma belle Fifine,”--he always called me Fifine when we were children. [“Humph!” muttered my father, “read on!” and she resumed:] 'Ma belle Fifine,-- “'How the dear name recalls happy hours, gay, buoyant, and brilliant with all that could make life a paradise! when we were both so much in love with all the world, and, consequently, with each other!' Ah, oui,” exclaimed she, in a tone so perfectly simple as to make MacNaghten burst out into a laugh, which Polly with difficulty refrained from joining.-- “'You,'” continued she, reading, “'you, ma belle, have doubtless grown wiser; but I remain the same dreamy, devoted thing you once knew me. Well, perhaps we may soon have an opportunity to talk over all this; and so now no more of it. You may perhaps have heard--I cannot guess what news may or may not reach you in your far-away solitudes--that the Cour de Cassation has decided against me, and that, consequently, they have not only rejected my claim, but have actually questioned my right to the domain of Chasse Loups and the famous jewels which my grandfather received from Isabella of Spain.