"Count Eugene de Montresor left on the 2d July, 1725, and has never since been heard of. I have followed all his instructions, with one exception. It was from the countess that I first heard the word of life, and learned the truth. The priests at Quebec gave me no peace; and so I had to leave and come here, among a people who are of another nation, but own and hold my faith--the faith of the pure worship of Christ. The count wished me to bring you up a Catholic; but I had a higher duty than his will, and I have brought you up not in your father's religion, but in your mother's faith. Your father was a good man, though in error. He has, no doubt, long since rejoined the saint who was his wife on earth; and I know that the spirits of your father and mother smile approvingly on my acts. "If I die before I tell you all, dear Claude, you will see this, and will understand that I did my duty to your parents and to you--" Here it ended abruptly. There was no name, and it was evidently unfinished. CHAPTER VI. A FRENCH FRIGATE. Mimi read both papers through rapidly and breathlessly, and having finished them, she read them over once more. As she finished the second reading, Claude presented to her in silence a small package. She took it in the same silence. On opening it, she saw inside a miniature portrait of a lady--the same one which Claude had mentioned. She was young and exquisitely beautiful, with rich dark hair, that flowed luxuriantly around her head; soft hazel eyes, that rested with inexpressible sweetness upon the spectator; and a gentle, winning smile. This face produced an unwonted impression upon Mimi. Long and eagerly did she gaze upon it, and when, at length, she handed it back to Claude, her eyes were moist with tears. Claude replaced the portrait in its wrapper, and then restored it, with the letters, to his pocket. For some time they sat in silence, and then Claude said,-- "You see there is no great duty laid on me. Judging by the tone of that letter, I should be doing my duty to my father if I did not go to France--and if I did not seek after anything." "Ah! but how could you possibly live, and leave all this unexplained?" "I could do it very easily," said Claude. "You don't know yourself." "O, yes, I could; I could live very easily and very happily--if I only had your assistance." At these words, which were spoken in a low, earnest voice, full of hidden meaning, Mimi darted a rapid glance at Claude, and caught his eyes fixed on her. Her own eyes fell before the fervid eagerness of the young man's gaze, a flush overspread her face, and she said not a word. Nor did Claude say anything more just then; but it was rather as though he felt afraid of having gone too far, for he instantly changed the subject.