of the memory of the nation he had en- | bury it in the ground, wall it up till the deavored to deceive. Ay but the crown diamonds! What had befallen them? While everything else belonging to the crown of France, nay, the very man who had worn the crown itself, was being borne away into exile, the crown diamonds were safe enough concealed, it is true, but not flying from pursuit; wending their way steadily along the highroad to Rambouillet, hidden beneath the straw in one of those queerlooking vehicles called haquets, high upon two wheels, and made to grind over the paved roads with terrible strain upon the nerves of the occupant. Two stout horses driven tandem fashion trot along cheerfully, and in the driver, seated on the narrow ledge in front, may be recognized the faithful Jean Mottu, who was sawing the logs in the courtyard of the Menus Plaisirs only a few hours before. Stretched at full length upon the straw, and jolted most cruelly, rolling from side to side with each shock of the vehicle, lay the portly form of the Count de la Bouillerie, who, on the morning of that July day, had risen surintendant of the Menus Plaisirs, one of the highest officers of the state, and now, to all appearance, was nothing better than a poor peasant fellow, with linen blouse and red woollen nightcap, returning home in the empty haquet through charity of the driver. It was just midnight when this strange equipage drove up to the back entrance of the château, and the soi disant peasant, bruised and stiffened by his ride, wriggled his way out of the straw and jumped on the stone pavement of the yard. M. Chambellan, who had remained on duty during the night, summoned on the instant, easily recognized his friend, who greeted him abruptly with the words: "You must help me in my trouble. I bear with me the fortunes of France - the diamans de la couronne!" M. Chambellan readily consented to bear a part in the adventure, and a coarse-looking old leather trunk, with rusty nails and iron-bound corners, was drawn from the straw at the bottom of the cart. They called no servant to their aid, and together they removed the trunk into the stone passage which led to the kitchens. "The box is confided to your care," said M. de la Bouillerie; "I must fly quickly, and, thinking that none would help me but you, I brought it here." M. Chambellan was seized with terror at the awful responsibility he was made to undergo. "But what can I do with it?" gasped he. "Oh, do what you will king's return; the people will be sure to call him back before long, and then the crown diamonds will be of far more value to you and yours than they have ever been to him. Now, be quick; hide the box at once, and let me go; for I, too, should be in danger of my life were I to be overtaken." With faltering hand did M. Chambellan seize one handle of the box, while La Bouillerie grasped the other, and be tween them they carried it into the châ teau. M. de la Bouillerie then hurried back to the cart, and presently returned with Jean Mottu, carrying another box of exactly the same make and dimensions, equally old and weather-stained, with rusty nails and iron-bound corners. To Chambellan's look of surprise, La Bouillerie merely nodded his head and laughed. "Don't be alarmed, mon ami," said he; "there is but one trésor de France - but one set of crown diamonds. This trunk contains nothing of any value excepting to myself, the owner -the family deeds of La Bouillerie, with the accounts connected with the estate. As I didn't know what the mob might choose to do with the nicknacks of the Menus Plaisirs, I thought I would place my title-deeds in a place of safety, where I can find them easily on my return, which I feel sure will not be long delayed. The two old boxes, as you see, are both alike—put mine into some of your capharnaüms in the yard a pair of antique Florentine bauli, kept at the Menus Plaisirs as curiosities of the time of Louis Treize. I keep the keys of both, so that your responsibility is saved. And now, good-bye, my friend in need. Jean Mottu will drive me to a little inn out of the town, and change this outlandish cart for a more respectable conveyance.' With that, he jumped back into the straw, and the cart moved slowly out of the courtyard, leaving poor Chambellan in an attitude of despair, contemplating the two chests that had been confided to his care. He dared not bring the box which contained the crown diamonds to his own apartment. He dared not conceal it. He dared not ask for assistance to remove it, but dragged it out of sight into the small, stone-paved room behind the confectioner's department, where the jellies and blancmanges were left to cool, and there, never having the courage to confide to any one the secret of its contents, he resolved to devote himself to watching over it till the king's return. For this purpose, under the pretence of a dread of fire by | But weeks grew into months, and still But he would, as a matter of course, be glad of the jewels, for probably he would soon be thinking of his coronation at Rheims - all " usurpers "have that mania. The visit of M. de la Bouillerie had nothing whatever to do with any charge belonging to his late office. It simply had for object the search for a document in his own deed-box, as he wished to sell a portion of his estate. Having but a few moments to spare, he would get the paper out immediately, and hurry on his journey as quickly as possible. Together the friends repaired to the shed, or outhouse, in which the box had been placed. The fowls of the yard had made sad havoc with the cord with which the box was bound, but no attempt had been made to unfasten it, for the knot was tight as ever. When it had been dragged from amid the rubbish into the light, La Bouillerie drew the key from his waistcoat pocket and placed it in the lock. But whether it was through the rust incurred by the damp, or the dust consequent on neglect, the key refused to turn, and so violent was the effort made to induce it to act, that it snapped suddenly, and broke in the lock. M. de la Bouillerie flew into a violent rage, and kicked against the old Florentine box in his frenzy. But it be came clear enough that a blacksmith must be sent for, and the count stamped with impatience while the workman proceeded to pick the lock. At last it yielded, the lid of the box sprang back, and a cry of surprise, almost of terror, burst from the beholders. Great Heavens ! there lay the crown diamonds of France in confusion, shaken out of place by the violence to which they had just been subjected, sparkling and flashing with intensest brightness. The Regent had fallen from its velvet sheath, and had rolled close to the edge of the box, where it seemed to glare in irony upon the countenance of M. de la Bouillerie as he took it up to replace it in its case. For the first time, perhaps, he thought of the disgrace that might have been his portion had the Regent been missing; of the four hundred and eighty thousand pounds it was supposed to represent; and of the receipt of its value to that amount he had given to the government on taking it under his charge. His hand, indeed, trembled so violently that he failed to adjust the jewel properly in its place, and it slipped from his grasp. The locksmith, with his hard, horny fingers, picked it up, exclaiming, "Tu dieu ! what What will be their next adventure? No one believes for a moment that they will be sold, for the great Alexis, the somnambule, when consulted upon the subject, declared they will never be dis. persed. Further than this, however, his skill in prophecy cannot lead us. Is the story of the crown diamonds to end after all by their being brought to the auction room, according to the decision of the Conseil d'Etat, or will that decision be set aside, and are they destined to be set in another crown by the exertion of their own mysterious power? This latter conclusion seems possible, for as suddenly as they were advertised for sale, so suddenly, with the change of ministry, were they withdrawn. a beautiful piece of glass! I wonder why | trollable fit of laughter. "What! the they keep it so carefully?" By the shock diamans de la couronne in that old ramof the discovery, poor Chambellan was shackle leather trunk which stood beneath completely unnerved. He insisted on get- the table in the king's study? Why, I had ting rid at once of the perilous burthen. It it taken away myself. You will find it bemust be conveyed away forthwith not neath my desk, where it has been serving to-morrow, but on the instant. More than me for some time as a convenient footever would he feel himself oppressed with stool!" Thence was the old box brought the weight of the obligation of its keeping. out, and soon committed to proper guarThe count was compelled to retrace his dianship, and there did the crown jewels journey to Paris, instead of proceeding on remain until the empress Eugénie util his journey to La Bouillerie. With the ized for her own adornment the choicest Florentine box at his side, he announced specimens, with a view of adding to the himself at the Tuileries, and deposited the splendor and glory of the empire. crown diamonds in the hands of General Athalin, the governor of the palace, who had the box placed at once in the king's own private study to await his majesty's decision concerning its destination. After the enjoyment of a hearty laugh with the general at the strange adventure which had befallen the treasure, the count went back to Rambouillet to fetch the worthless box of papers so carefully guarded. Glad enough was he to escape from the responsibility of the crown diamonds, and gain his own home with the title-deeds all safe. But the adventures of the diamonds were not yet ended. Amid the trouble and danger the street riots and attempts at assassination which beset with bewil. derment the early portion of the reign of Louis Philippe, there was little time for attention to be paid to the baubles and fripperies of royalty. Neither Queen Marie Amélie nor her daughters ever thought of wearing any of the state jew. els, and so the crown diamonds were once more forgotten. But one day, after the first attempts at rebellion had been quelled, and quiet had been restored for a time, the new surintendant of the Menus Plaisirs applied for the jewels which he supposed had been conveyed away for safety, but for which the attested list in his possession made him responsible. General Athalin answered the appeal at once. He remembered where he had deposited the chest delivered to him by La Bouillerie, and went straight to the spot in the king's study. To his astonishment the chest was gone. No trace of it was to be found. The consternation was great throughout the royal apartments, and of course all kinds of suspicions were uttered concerning the persons admitted to audience in that royal sanctum. After some little time, the Duke of Orleans was called to council. On hearing the story of the supposed robbery of the state jewels, told as it was in trembling accents by the state officials, he burst into an uncon From Chambers' Journal. A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. BY MRS, OLIPHANT. CHAPTER XXX. THE Winterbourns came next day: he to the best room in the house, a temperature carefully kept up to sixty-five degrees, and the daily attentions of the excellent doctor, who, Lady Markham declared, was thrown away upon her healthy household. Mr. Winterbourn was a man of fifty, a confirmed invalid, who travelled with a whole paraphernalia of medicaments, and a servant who was a trained nurse, and very skilful in all the lower branches of the medical craft. Mrs. Winterbourn, however, was not like this. She was young, pretty, lively, fond of what she called "fun," and by no means bound to her husband's sickroom. Everybody said she was very kind to him. She never refused to go to him when he wanted her. Of her own accord, as part of her usual routine, she would go into his room three or even four times a day to see if she could do anything. She sat with him moment, and Sir Thomas ceased to think of Waring. Frances gleaned from what she heard that they were all preparing for flight. "Of course, in case anything dreadful happens, dear Lady Markham,' they said, "will no doubt go too." "What a funny thing," said one of the Miss Montagues, “if it should happen in this house!" 66 Funny, Laura! You mean dreadful,” cried her mother. "Do choose your words a little better." Oh, you know what I mean, mamma!' cried the young lady. always while Roberts the man nurse had | being allowed no speech of him till next his dinner. What more could a woman morning, after he was supposed to have do? She had indeed, it was understood, got over the fatigue of the journey. The married him against her will; but that is doctor, when he was summoned, shook an accident not to be avoided, and she his head and looked very grave; and it had always been a model of propriety. may be imagined what talks went on They were asked everywhere, which, con- among the guests when no one of the sidering how little adapted he was for family was present to hear. These talks society, was nothing less than the highest were sometimes carried on before Frances, proof of how much she was thought of; who was scarcely realized as the daughter and the most irreproachable matrons did of the house. Even Claude Ramsay fornot hesitate to invite Lord Markham to got his own pressing concerns in consid. meet the Winterbourns. It was a won-eration of the urgent question of the derful, quite an ideal friendship, everybody said. And it was such a comfort to both of them! For Markham, considering the devotion he had always shown to his mother, would probably find it very inconvenient to marry, which is the only thing which makes friendship between a man and a woman difficult. A woman does not like her devoted friend to marry: that is the worst of those delicate relationships, and it is the point upon which they generally come to shipwreck in the end. As a matter of course, any other harm of a grosser kind was not so much as thought of by any one who knew them. There were people, however, who asked themselves and each other, as a fine problem, one of those cases of complication which it pleases the human intellect to resolve, what would happen if Winterbourn died? -a thing which he was continually threatening to do. It had been at one time quite a favorite subject of speculation in society. Some said that it would not suit Markham at all, that he would get out of it somehow; some, that there would be no escape for him; some, that with such a fine jointure as Nelly would have, it would set the little man up, if he could give up his "ways." Markham had not a very good reputation, though everybody knew that he was the best son in the world. He played, it was said, more and otherwise than a man of his position ought to play. He was often amusing, and always nice to women, so that society never in the least broke with him, and he had champions everywhere. But the mere fact that he required champions was a proof that all was not exactly as it ought to be. He was a man with a great many ways," which of course it is natural to suppose would be bad ways, though, except in the matter of play, no one knew very well what they were. Winterbourn, however, had never been so bad as he was on this occasion, when he was almost lifted out of the carriage and carried to his room, his very host VOL. LI. 2636 LIVING AGE. "You must think it dreadful indeed," said Mrs. Montague, addressing Frances, "that we should discuss such a sad thing in this way. Of course, we are all very sorry for poor Mr. Winterbourn; and if he had been ill and dying in his own house But one's mind is occupied at present by the great inconvenienceoh, more than that- the horror andand embarrassment to your dear mother." "All that," said Sir Thomas with a certain solemnity. Perhaps it was the air of unusual gravity with which he uttered these two words which raised the smallest momentary titter no, not so much as a titter - a faintly audible smile, if such an expression may be used-chiefly among the young ladies, who had perhaps a clearer realization of the kind of embarrassment that was meant than was expected of them. But Frances had no clue whatever to it. She replied warmly, "My mother will not think of the inconvenience. It is surely those who are in such trouble themselves who are the only people to think about. Poor Mrs. Winterbourn "Who is it that is speaking of me in such a kind voice?" said the sick man's wife. She had just come into the room; and she was very well aware that she was being discussed by everybody about herself and her circumstances, and all those contingencies which were, in spite of herself, beginning to stir her own mind, as they had already done the minds of all around. That is one thing which in any crisis people in society may be always sure of, that their circumstances are being fully talked over by their friends. "I hope we have all kind voices when we speak of you, my dear Nelly. This one was Frances Waring, our new little friend here." 66 Ah, that explains," said Mrs. Winterbourn; and she went on, without saying more, to the conservatory, which opened from the drawing room in which the party were seated. They were silenced, though they had not been saying anything very bad of her. The sudden appearance of the person discussed always does make a certain impression. The gentlemen of the group dispersed, the ladies began to talk of something else. Frances, very shy, yet burdened with a great desire to say or do something toward the consolation of those who were, as she had said, in such trouble, went after Mrs. Winterbourn. She had seated herself where the big palms and other exotic foliage were thickest, out of sight of the drawing. room, close to the open doorway that led to the lawn and the sea. Frances was a little surprised that the wife of a man who was thought to be dying should leave his bedside at all; but she reflected that to prevent breaking down, and thus being no longer of any use to the patient, it was the duty of every nurse to take a certain amount of rest and fresh air. She felt, however, more and more timid as she ap proached. Mrs. Winterbourn had not the air of a nurse. She was dressed in her usual way, with her usual ornaments - not too much but yet enough to make a tinkle, had she been at the side of a sick person, and possibly to have disturbed him. Two or three bracelets on a pretty arm are very pretty things; but they are not very suitable for a sick nurse. She was sitting with a book in one hand, leaning her head upon the other, evidently not reading, evidently very serious. Frances was encouraged by the downcast face. "I hope you will not think me very bold," she said, the other starting and turning round at the sound of her voice. "I wanted to ask if I could help you in any way. I am very good for keeping awake, and I could get you what you wanted. Oh, I don't mean that I am good enough to be trusted as nurse; but if I might sit up with you in the next to get you what you want." room "What do you mean, child?" the young woman said in a quick, startled, halfoffended voice. She was not very much older than Frances, but her experiences had been very different. She thought offence was meant. Lady Markham had always been kind to her, which was, she felt, somewhat to Lady Markham's own advantage, for Nelly knew that Markham would never marry so long as her influence lasted, and this was for his mother's good. But now it was very possible that Lady Markham was trembling, and had put her little daughter forward to give a sly stroke. Her tone softened, however, as she looked up in Frances's face. It was perhaps only that the girl was a little simpleton, and meant what she said. "You think I sit up at night,” she said. "O no. I should be of no use. Mr. Winterbourn has his own servant, who knows exactly what to do; and the doctor is to send a nurse to let Roberts get a little rest. It is very good of you. Nurs ing is quite the sort of thing people go in for now, isn't it? But, unfortunately, poor Mr. Winterbourn can't bear amateurs and I should do no good." She gave Frances a bright smile as she said this, and turned again towards the scene outside, opening her book at the same time, which was like a dismissal. But at that moment, to the great surprise of Frances, Markham appeared without, strolling towards the open door. He came in when he saw her, nodding to her with a look which stopped her as she was about to turn away. "I am glad you are making friends with my little sister," he said. "How is Winterbourn now?" "I wish everybody would not ask me every two minutes how he is now," cried the young wife. "He doesn't change from one half-hour to another. Oh, im. patient; yes, I am impatient. I am half out of my senses, what with one thing and another; and here is your sister - your sister asking to help me to nurse him! That was all that was wanting, I think, to drive me quite mad!" "I am sure little Fan never thought she would produce such a terrible result. Be reasonable, Nelly." "Don't call me Nelly, sir; and don't tell me to be reasonable. Don't you know how they are all talking, those horrid people? Oh, why, why did I bring him here? |