tained little beyond indefinite offers of service and expressions of consideration; while towards the end a wish was thrown out to see him. But this letter contained another, with the brief remark, "My niece, Madame de Soissons, now in England, has met with some friends of yours, and of whose communications she has taken charge, as the enclosed will explain, which she requested might be forwarded at once—a wish I have had much pleasure in immediately obeying."
Evelyn took the letter, but curiosity for a moment was lost in a yet more powerful feeling. Madame de Soissons was by him, chiefly remembered as Marie Mancini, his friend and almost confidante in Italy. Her image could not come alone, and Evelyn forgot the scroll while thinking what had been the fate of her more lovely but less fortunate companion. How had his brother’s death affected her?—did she know of it? Alas! into what depths of misery might she now be plunged! On his arrival in Paris, whither he had come straight from Ireland when Henry Cromwell allowed the King to be proclaimed, he had used every possible means to find her abode; but no traces could he discover, beyond the fact that she had certainly left the capital; but whither she had gone all his attempts to learn
