Did I ever tell you about him ?" "No, your ladyship," I replied.
"Poor Clement! More than twenty years ago, Lord Ludlow and I spent a winter in Paris.

He had many friends there; perhaps not very good or very wise men, but he was so kind that he liked every one, and every one liked him.

We had an apartment, as they call it there, in the Rue de Lille; we had the first-floor of a grand hotel, with the basement for our servants.

On the floor above us the owner of the house lived, a Marquise de Crequy, a widow.

They tell me that the Crequy coat-of-arms is still emblazoned, after all these terrible years, on a shield above the arched porte-cochere, just as it was then, though the family is quite extinct.
Madame de Crequy had only one son, Clement, who was just the same age as my Urian--you may see his portrait in the great hall--Urian's, I mean." I knew that Master Urian had been drowned at sea; and often had I looked at the presentment of his bonny hopeful face, in his sailor's dress, with right hand outstretched to a ship on the sea in the distance, as if he had just said, "Look at her! all her sails are set, and I'm just off." Poor Master Urian! he went down in this very ship not a year after the picture was taken! But now I will go back to my lady's story.