A recess was fitted up with book-shelves, which were supplied with the productions of the best poets and novelists of England and France. Around the walls were suspended several paintings--chiefly consisting of sporting subjects. Over the mantel, however, were two miniatures, executed in water-colours in the first style of the art, and representing the one a lovely youth of sixteen, the other a beautiful girl of twenty. And never was resemblance more striking. The same soft and intelligent hazel eyes--the same light hair, luxuriant, silky, and shining--the some straight nose--the same vermilion lips, and well-turned chin. At a glance it was easy to perceive that they were brother and sister; and as the countenance of the former was remarkably feminine and delicate, the likeness between them was the more striking. Beneath the miniature of the brother, in small gilt letters upon the enamelled frame, was the word WALTER: under the portrait of the sister was the name of ELIZA. Attired as she now was, the mysterious being whom we have introduced to our readers, perfectly resembled the portrait of _Walter_: attired as she ought to have been, consistently with her sex, she would have been the living original of the portrait of _Eliza_. Upon a sofa in the parlour, some of the leading features of which we have just described, a man, dressed with great neatness, but no ostentatious display, was lounging. He was in reality not more than three or four and thirty years of age; although a seriousness of countenance--either admirably studied, or else occasioned by habits of business and mental combination--made him appear ten years older. He was handsome, well-formed, and excessively courteous and fascinating in his manners: but, when he was alone, or not engaged in conversation, he seemed plunged in deep thought, as if his brain were working upon numerous plans and schemes of mighty and vital import. The moment the heroine of the boudoir entered the parlour, Mr. Stephens--for he was the individual whom we have just described--rose and accosted her in a manner expressive of kindness, respect, and patronage. "My dear Walter," he exclaimed, "it is really an age since I have seen you. Six weeks have elapsed, and I have not been near you. But you received my letter, stating that I was compelled to proceed to Paris upon most particular business?"