Next came a letter from America. It
informed her th it her father was seriouly
ill, and wanted her to return at an early
day. She took the remaining figures to
the old dealer.
“Tue-ie are the last,” she said.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, with a shrug of hh
shoulders.
“! am going back to America ”
“I am soiry,” he 'rejoined. “You will
bring me nothing mire to sell. ”
“Who purchased the others?” she asked,
her Italian as fluent as her English, and
almost as correct.
“A gentleman,” replied the dealer.
‘ Do you mean to say that one gentleman
bjughtthem all?” she inq lired.
“ Yes. They were scarcely in the window
a day.”
“Do you know his name?” she asked
with suppressed eagerness.
“Lady, I do not. That is, 1 cannot lecall
it. He was tall and handsome, with brown
eyes and brown mustache, and carried
himself so.
The old dealer made a comical failure of
his attempt to stand erect and to assume a
military air.
“Was his name Dubrasset?” Miss Bur
goyne asked, with twitching lips.
“Yes,” said the dealer, explosively.
An angry, disappointed sparkle came
into her eyes as he turned to leave the
shop. Once on the sidewalk, she sighed,
and unconsciously lifted her hand to her
heart.
