“You will pardon me if I say Madame, when I perhaps should ought to say Mademoiselle. Madame will understand that the titles of honour, which differ in every country, do much of times puzzle a foreigner. Since I had the honour of making an encounter with Mademoiselle, I have more than once repeated my searches; and all in finding no one, it has come to me in the head to go to another place, where there may be better of prospects. I have, then, made the conclusion to go to Manchester, where I shall find, as they say, some countrymen, and will consult with their experience. There are much of places, they say, with Chester in the name. I go to make a little voyage among them. If I have the happiness to find the Contessa, I will take the liberty of making Madame aware of it. If it is to fail, I must submit. I shall return to Chester; and all in making my homage to Madame, will use the boldness of asking if anything of news respecting the Contessa may have come to her recollection. In all cases Madame will permit me to remember with gratitude her bounty to a stranger. “LUIGI S----.” Sara and I were, as usual, alone at the breakfast-table, and to tell the truth, I prized this interval when Sarah’s eyes were not upon me, nor all the troublous matters conveyed in her looks present to my mind, as quite a holiday season,--when I could look as I liked, say what I pleased, and be afraid of nobody. Besides, though I was more and more uneasy about Sarah, I was not disturbed in my mind about this young man to the degree I had been, nor so entirely mystified about any possible connection between them. Since last evening, thinking it all over, it came to be deeply impressed upon my mind that there was no connection between them: that my poor sister knew nothing whatever about him or his Italian Countess. Simply that Sarah’s mind, poor dear soul, was giving way, and that catching sight of the strange face on the road, she had somehow identified and fixed upon it as the face of an unknown agent of trouble, the “somebody” who always injures, or persecutes, or haunts the tottering mind. It was but little comfort to me to conclude upon this, as you may suppose, but it seemed to explain everything. It cleared up a quite unintelligible mystery. Poor Sarah! poor soul! She who had known such a splendid morning, such an exciting noon, such a dull leaden afternoon of life,--and how dark the clouds were gathering round her towards the night!