could reply, be took hold of her by her beautiful
plump arm, squeezed a sharp diamond ring
that was on his finger against it, and drew
just one drop of red, ripe, rich blood. He
produced a pen from his doublet, dipped
the point in the liquid, placed it in her hand,
and showed her where to place her mark. She
did as she was requested. The stranger blew
upon the mark to dry it his breath was hot no
doubt——then folded up the document, aud
placed it carefully in his pocket.

"Now," said he, " fair and noble lady——for
I hereby create you a countess——let me see
what title would suit you best? The Countess di
Sidonia San Felice? That will do! See you don't
forget it! You will want a great deal of money.
Nothing is to be done without gold. I myself,
though I do not value it, cannot manage my
business without it. Were there no gold in
the world, I verily believe there would be little
work left for me. Take this ring, and whenever
you want cash, however much or however little,
rub it all round with the tip of your right forefinger,
and you will find in your purse, or at
your feet, the exact sum you have thought of.
Just try the experiment."

She took the ring, rubbed it as directed, and
said, " One hundred gold pieces." She felt a
sudden weight in her pocket, and looked both
alarmed and pleased.

"Take them out and count them," said
he. "If you had named a million it would
have been just the same; but as you would
have found the mass rather heavy, I think
you need not call for such a quantity, except
on the great occasions when less will not
suffice. And now, countess, you must act
the part of a great lady——I know you can do
it——and leave me to work for you in the proper
quarter. I will perform my part of the contract
like a gentleman. My word is my bond.
Having done so——I will not trouble you with
my company uninvited——until this day seven
years hence, when, whether you invite me or
not, I shall come and pay my respects to you.
It will be necessary, however, in the mean
while, until I have made the man of your choice
your own for seven years, which I truly hope may
be happy and delicious years to you——on my
honour as a gentleman I swear it——that you and
I should be sometimes seen together. I am,
remember it well, the Duke di Sidonia San
Felice, and you are my niece. I shall introduce
you into good society. If I am at any
time disagreeable to you, or if the thought of
pur little bargain causes you any annoyance,
just give me a look——I am skilful in looks,
and need no language to tell a person's
thoughts——and I will relieve you of my presence.
But don't, for your own sake, try to
get rid of me in a pet or temper. And
before I say farewell let me give you a
word of advice. Don't make love to Sir
Christopher. Don't run after him. Don't let
him know that you care a straw for him. Let
him be the wooer. Let him sigh his soul away
at your feet; and if you have a little scorn to
bestow upon him, not too much, mind you, just a
little judicious tiny bit of scorn, dart it at him
from those lovely black eyes of yours, and he
will come to you as slavishly and affectionately
as if he were your lapdog. I am an old stager
in these matters, and have been in love myself
a long, long time ago. Farewell, sweet
countess!"

The next time that Sir Christopher went to
the theatre there was no orange girl to offer
him or any one else oranges, at which, to say
truth, he was rather pleased than otherwise,
for the orange girl, in consequence of the jests
of his friends, had become a bore. He met, at
the entrance, his friends, the Earls of Southampton
and Pembroke, both great patrons of
the drama. They asked him if he had seen the
new Spanish beauty, who, for the last two days,
had dazzled the eyes of all beholders. She had
suddenly appeared in London, no one exactly
knew from whence, and was accompanied by
her uncle, a Spanish grandee and magnifico of
the highest class, a grave old gentleman, with
a highly intellectual face, who dressed in black
velvet, with red hose, and shoe ribbons, wore
a red plume in his cap, and a cross of diamonds
upon his breast worth millions of money. Sir
Christopher had neither seen nor heard; but,
entering the theatre, the lady and her uncle
were pointed out to him. Such glorious beauty
in a woman, such calm dignity and serene
wisdom in a man, he thought his eyes had never
before beheld. Long before the performances
were over he had asked Lord Southampton
to introduce him personally to the duke, who
had, as he was told, brought letters of introduction
both to him and Lord Pembroke. The
fair countess was an apt scholar, and before
three weeks had passed she had half of the
"golden youth" of London at her feet, attracted
quite as much by her reputed wealth as
by her undoubted beauty. And she possessed,
not only these two great magnets for attracting
and fixing men's admiration, but a ready
wit, and could hold her own worthily against
all the beaux-esprits and amiable cynics of the
time. The duke, on his part, favoured Sir
Christopher greatly, took pleasure in his society,
entertained him with his learning, and
charmed him with his conversation, for the
duke had seen so much of the world, and
was such a delicately flavoured cynic, that it
was impossible for any one to be long in his
society without recognising in him a very
remarkable as well as a very charming person.
Encouraged by the countenance of this high
personage, and daily more and more smitten
with the charms of the countess, who gave him,
however, but very slight encouragement, while
she threw her brightest smiles and most winning
glances at some one or other of his many
rivals, Sir Christopher became, what the countess
had become when an orange girl, head over ears
in love. He finally took courage to offer heart
and hand, name and fortune, to his brilliant
enslaver, and, to his great distress, though
scarcely to his surprise——considering from how