died in giving me birth, and I was left to the charge of an aunt who was my only relative. This worthy woman was not rich, but an annuity left her by her husband and the revenue from some savings placed her above want, and her kind heart pitied my orphanage, and she shared everything with me. I owe to her five years of happiness, and oh! that it were more; her counsels and her tenderness would have spared me the regrets I feel at this hour. She had placed me in a school of great renown, wishing, she said, to leave me, in lieu of fortune, a good education. Notwithstanding my plebeian name I had a crowd of friends of rich and noble heritage, for youth never thinks of the differences in rank or the prerogatives of birth; and it was thus that I became the friend of an amiable young girl, Helena de Verceil. Her brother came to see her often, and, as we were inseparable, I was generally present at these visits. I was a simple and candid girl, and these traits made a profound impression on the young count, and when I left the school some months after Helena I continued to see him from time to time, at his sister's house, for she was married immediately after leaving school. Young, ardent, impetuous, and unused to any resistance, the count fell easily into the snare which was held out to his inexperience by an irresistible tenderness. His passion, far from calming, grew stronger each day, and he resolved to overcome all obstacles and ask to marry me, although his age and his tastes were far from this grave determination. With his fortune and hand, he came to beg my aunt's consent, and to pray that she would not defer his happiness. Overwhelmed with joy at so brilliant and advantageous an offer for her niece, she gave her consent, for in all her dreams for the daughter of her cherished brother she had never caressed so sweet an illusion as this. She accepted it with the more gratitude as she knew she had a mortal malady which would soon leave me alone, in the midst of the manifold dangers that assail youth. In taking for his wife an obscure and poor girl the count was alienated from all his family, and his proud and noble parents would not pardon this unworthy _mesalliance_. He could, they said, have married a woman of rank and wealth, but this unprofitable union to the eyes of people blinded by their titles, whatever may have been the qualities of heart, was nothing and worse than nothing. He could obtain no favor from them, after putting so dark a spot on their escutcheon. These humiliations and insults would have had no effect upon me, could I have been consoled by the tender affection of my aunt, who saw but too late that wealth does not give happiness; and in less than two years after my marriage I was called to mourn her loss. The love of the count was soon extinguished, and men are very apt to be ungrateful and cruel when they cease to love. His conduct soon proved