as if she would be glad to banish his remembrance
from her mind. Sir Christopher, after an
ineffectual attempt to discover whether there
had been a quarrel between them, forbore to
speak upon the subject after the first two years
of their marriage, and had almost forgotten that
such a person as the Duke of Sidonia San
Felice had ever existed. For the month preceding
the great ball Lady Hatton had seemed
more than usually unhappy. She could not
bear to be left alone even for an instant, and
would often break out into hysterical sobs,
followed by hysterical laughter distressing to
witness.

"Do you think," she said, one evening to
Sir Christopher, as they sat in the library, after
a day in which some portion of her old happiness
seemed to have revisited her, "that there
is any truth in the story of Dr. Faustus, who
sold himself to Lucifer for worldly power and
dominion?"

"A stupid old legend," said the practical Sir
Christopher——"an absurd superstition. No
doubt people do give their souls to the devil,
when they commit sin, persist in sin, and die
unrepenting."

"Repentance makes a difference, then?" said
the lady. " And suppose I sold my soul to
Lucifer, for love of you, and were to repent
that I did so, could Lucifer claim my soul?"

Sir Christopher smiled. " My dear good
wife," said he, " you are certainly unwell.
Your health is injured because you have been
left too much alone lately. I shall give
half-a-dozen grand dinners and balls, and invite a large
company each time. We shall be merry, and
you shall be the very queen of all the joy and
festivity. Cheer up, love. You have youth,
beauty, riches, friends, and your husband's
heart. What more do you require?"

"Peace of mind!" she replied, with a shudder,
as some painful thought flashed upon her brain,
and lighted up her dark eyes with a tragic light.
"I have sold myself to Lucifer, or I have dreamt
so."

"But who is so silly——pardon the expression
——as to lose their peace of mind for a dream?"

"My dream was a reality, or so like a reality
that I cannot tell the difference."

"Many dreams are. I have had such dreams
myself, especially when I have been out of
health. We shall cure all that for you if you
will trust to my care and attention." And Sir
Christopher gave her as warm an embrace as if
they had only been married seven days instead
of close upon seven years, and the lady for
awhile was comforted.

The great ball at last took place, and it
seemed to all present that never had Lady
Hatton looked so exceedingly beautiful; that
her dark full eyes had never gleamed with such
vivid lightning glances upon her hosts of
flatterers and admirers, or that her pretty little feet
had ever twinkled so elegantly, so joyously, and
so deftly in the dance. Sir Christopher was
delighted, and convinced, moreover, that, after
all, her only ailments were the results of the
too great solitude, in which his increasing
avocations had compelled him to leave her——a
solitude which he firmly resolved, should not
continue, if wealth could bring amusement, or
change of scene, or any possible recreation that
might divert her mind, and occupy her best
faculties. It was five minutes before midnight
by the great hall clock, when a new and important
visitor was announced——no less a person
than the long-lost Duke di Sidonia San Felice,
in the well-known and graceful costume in which
he was so familiar to Sir Christopher, the suit
of black velvet, the scarlet hose and shoe ribbons,
and the jaunty scarlet plume in his cap.
Lady Hatton turned red, then ghastly pale, at
the sight, and it was thought by those close to
her that she would drop to the ground. But
she braced up her nerves as the duke approached
her, and took her by the hand. He smiled
with a grave sweet smile, and said softly, yet in
a voice that all around could distinctly hear:
"I am punctual." Then turning to Sir Christopher,
he said: " You did not expect me. Of
course not! Do not disturb the dance. How
lovely your wife looks! She has been a good
wife to you, I am sure." Sir Christopher put
his hand upon his heart. " I knew she would
be," continued the duke. " Such women as she
are rare in this wicked world. I have a little
bit of family news to communicate to her. We
can sit together for a few minutes, can we not,
in the ante-room yonder among the flowers?
What lovely flowers you have got, Sir Chris-
topher. My taste exactly." He had taken Lady
Hatton by the hand, and he led her with the utmost
respect and gallantry from amid the crowd.
The dance went on, but Lady Hatton never
reappeared; neither did the Duke di Sidonia San
Felice. After the lapse of an hour, Sir Christopher,
not knowing what had become of her,
and ardently desiring not to make a scene or a
scandal, informed his guests that my lady had
been taken unwell, but not seriously, and had
gone to bed. The dance went on; everyone
was joyous except poor Sir Christopher, who
was glad when the last of the guests had
departed, and he was left alone to ponder over the
very singular disappearance of his lady, and to
wonder when she would return to him.

In the morning a very horrible sight presented
itself in the yard of Hatton-garden.
The great pump that stood in the middle was
all stained and beclotted with blood and brains,
as if some one's head had been dashed and
broken against it. On the ground lay a human
heart in a pool of blood, and round about were
shreds and tatters of female attire, and fragments
of gold chains and loose diamonds and
other jewels such as had been worn by Lady
Hattoii on the previous evening. There were
no traces of a body, but there was a deep hole
in the ground as if it had been made by a
thousand thunderbolts, and the whole place
smelt awfully sulphurous and mephitic. Lucifer
had claimed his own. Thus had ended the
bright career of the beautiful but wicked Lady
Hatton. And, to this day, added the good old