. The white rose . he had so far obtained good news for Gerard,and went on his way rejoicing. It would have damjDed his satisfaction considerablycould he have witnessed the cloud of uncertaintythatoverspread his informants countenance as the BDIORTELLES. /^ latter paused on the threshold of his apartment,gloved, hatted, and equipped for a walk. Tiens I said the Count, putting his hand to hisforehead, and trying hard to unravel the entangle-ment of memories it contained. * Have I deceivedmyself after all ? Was it the English Fanchonwhose grave I watered with my tears at Brussels,or that tall gi
. The white rose . he had so far obtained good news for Gerard,and went on his way rejoicing. It would have damjDed his satisfaction considerablycould he have witnessed the cloud of uncertaintythatoverspread his informants countenance as the BDIORTELLES. /^ latter paused on the threshold of his apartment,gloved, hatted, and equipped for a walk. Tiens I said the Count, putting his hand to hisforehead, and trying hard to unravel the entangle-ment of memories it contained. * Have I deceivedmyself after all ? Was it the English Fanchonwhose grave I watered with my tears at Brussels,or that tall girl from Innspruck, or the Alsatianblonde ? How stupid I am ! Fanchon ! Fanchon !It is a vile habit of mine to call every woman withwhom I have relations by that endearing is convenient at first, no doubt ; but see whatconfusion it makes in the end. N^importe ! Fanchon,or Finette, or Fleur-de-lis, or Feu-follet, it makeslittle difference; the imtnortelles would have beenwithered by this time, all the same I. CHAPTER YII. SURGIT AMARI. Gerard Ainslie sat at breakfast in his cheerfulroom overlooking the park, with a bright springsunshine pouring in on his white tablecloth, and thebalmy air stealing through his open window to stirthe broad sheet of his morning paper, proppedagainst the coffee-pot. There was a tender quiverof green leaves, a fragrance of opening buds andbursting vegetation, pervading the world outside ;and within, for Gerard at least, late in life as it hadcome, the veritable spring-tide of the heart. He was happy, this bright morning, so happy!A kindly, well-worded letter from Dolly, detailingthe interview with Count Tourbillon, had beenbrought hj his servant when he woke, and itseemed like the announcement of freedom to a jori- SUKGIT A3IAPJ. 81 soner for life. True, he had given more than onegentle thought to the memory of the woman whohad loved him so recklessly, deceived him so cruelly;but all sadder emotion was speedily swallowed upin the joyous refiec
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