He would not give his fair bride time to approach him, but, putting his hand solemnly upon his breast, addressed her in language very unusual for him-- "My dear young lady, so help me God, the one object of my life will be how to make you happy!" "And I, sir," said Fanny, in a calm and resolute voice, "shall consider it my highest duty to do honour to your name.

And now I would ask you all three, my friends, to grant me a few hours' private interview where we shall not be disturbed." These words were spoken in such a calm and resolute voice that they felt bound to obey, and all four withdrew into the innermost chamber, locking the door behind them.
A few hours later the door was reopened, and they all four appeared again.
But how every face had changed! Fanny's face was no longer pale, but as red as the dawn, serene, and open as a half-blown rose.
Master Boltay was twisting his moustache as if he meditated something terrible; but for an occasional chuckle, one would have said that he was very angry indeed.
Even honest Teresa's eyes sparkled, but the sparks of triumphant revenge were in them after all.
And then the bridegroom, Squire John! Where was he, and what had become of the old Nabob?
Could any one have recognized him?
Was this merry, sprightly, leaping, smiling, triumphant creature the same man?
Why, he had grown twenty years younger at the very least! It was a changeling, surely! "To-morrow, then, in the afternoon," said he, with a voice that trembled for joy.
"Yes, to-morrow," replied Fanny.

Their eyes flashed with a strange fire as they looked at each other.
Thereupon Squire John rushed to his carriage, opened the door himself, without waiting for Palko to let down the steps, and, turning round, shouted once more, "To-morrow afternoon!" "Hush, hush!" said Fanny, putting her index-finger to her pretty little lips.
"Drive into Pressburg!" cried Squire John with impatient celerity, while Palko clambered up on to the box from whence he phlegmatically looked down upon his master.
"What are you staring at, sirrah?
Drive on, I say." "We have left something behind here," said the old servant.
"What have we left behind, eh ?" "Twenty years of your age, my honoured young sir," replied Palko, without the suspicion of a smile.
Squire John laughed good-naturedly at the comic rejoinder, and a few moments later a cloud of dust far away on the high-road was all that was to be seen of the carriage.
* * * * * Early next morning a servant arrived at Boltay's country house by the market cart, with the embroidered sofa which Mrs.Meyer sent to Fanny.
The servant whispered secretly that a letter had been thrust into the bottom of the sofa; and so it was.
Fanny searched for the letter till she found it.

It was in her mother's handwriting.

The rich gentleman was delighted, it said, so delighted in fact, that he had arranged to give a grand party in Fanny's honour at Mr.Kecskerey's rooms; and a beautiful invitation card was enclosed, addressed to--"Mademoiselle Fanny de Meyer avec famille." Quite a family party, you see! Fanny sent back the servant with the message that she accepted the invitation to supper, and sent her best greetings to Mr.Kecskerey.
But who was this Mr.Kecskerey you will ask?
Well, he was a worthy gentleman who was wont to play no inconsiderable part in the refined society of the day, and supplied one of the most crying necessities of the age.