THE FALSE HEIR.

I

W

CHAPTER I.

ST it is not persumptuous to suppose, that, to that Being, has revealed Himself to us as a God of mercy and of love, the sight of human fate and all its vicissitudes, the wandering course of each intelligent creature, the effect of every man's actions upon others during his life, the results that follow from generation to generation unto the end of time, the hopes that are formed but to be disappointed, the disappointments which are in reality blessings, the longings for that which would prove destructive, the joys that kill, and the sorrows that make alive, with all the infinite complications of one event with another from the commercement to the close, (which offer to our eyes nothing But a confused inextricable maze,) must be a subject of deep interest, as is allcomprehending view beholds the beginning and the end, and sees creation and all its results rounded in by His own glory. Yes, surely it must be to Almighty love and wisdom a sight of deep interest: for God, in permitting free-will to man, could never leave him without the protection of His tenderness and mercy; and the mere exercise of those attributes implies a care, an interest, in his fate.

To

90

our limited view, however, the course of one human being

offers matter for meditation and for feeling enough; and to trace the life of a fellow-mortal from the cradle to the grave — wherever we can do so with anything like a knowledge of the actions, the events, the motives, and the thoughts - is, perhaps, the most instructive study that we can pursue.

then,

In the history before us, - a history which all who are acquainted with the annals of

France during the last century, will know to be a true one, I

The

false heir.

1

shall commence with the very earliest period, and begin with the events which preceded the birth of him whose changeful existence I purpose to depict.

In the wide green court of an old French château, surrounded by high walls, with a tall iron gate at one end, and the raised terrace on which the mansion itself stood on the other, were collected, one evening in the month of June, a gay and merry group of peasantry as ever danced upon the grass in that land of light and thoughtless hearts. A great upturned wine-barrel served as a throne for the fiddler, the girls and lads were in their best, and many a joke and jest, with which I will not regale the reader's ears, passed gaily amongst the groups, circulated chiefly, it would seem, at the expense of a stout, well-looking peasant, of about thirty years of age, and a neat-looking, pretty young woman of two or three and twenty, habited as a soubrette, or lady's maid. These two bore all the shafts of wit which were aimed at them with great glee and good-humour, kept fondly together through the whole evening, and, by the gay attire of the man, and the profuse ornaheig that decked the girl; je was easy to perceive that they were bride and bridegroom...:::

It was, indeed, the marriage evening of Gerard Latouches and Marguerite Lemaire, amarriage which had been brought about by the good offices of Marguerite's master and mistress; and now, after carousing.through he whole day in the court of the castle, and the gardener's cottage at the side, they were dancing the sun down to the sound of the fiddle, with quite as much wine in their heads as any of the party could carry without approaching to ine→ briety.

Standing upon the terrace above were a lady and gentleman, themselves in their early prime, the Marquis de Langy being now in his seven and twentieth year, and the marchioness several years younger. A fine boy, of four years old, hung at his mother's gown; and a tall, dark man, some eight or ten years older than the marquis, but bearing a strong family resemblance to him stood near the lady, with the little boy between them, amongst the curls of whose fair hair rested his strong and sinewy hand.

A merry scene, my sweet niece," he observed, speaking to