ure scrutiny of Miss Jenkinson. "I thought you might
have forgotten," she said with slight acerbity, "that you desired an
interview with the authoress of"--

"Pardon," interrupted Don Jose, standing before her in an attitude of
the deepest sympathizing dejection, "I had not forgotten. It is now
three weeks since I have read in the journal 'Golden Gate' the eloquent
and touching poem of your sufferings, and your aspirations, and your
miscomprehensions by those you love. I remember as yesterday that you
have said, that cruel fate have linked you to a soulless
state--that--but I speak not well your own beautiful language--you are
in tears at evenfall 'because that you are not understood of others,
and that your soul recoiled from iron bonds, until, as in a dream, you
sought succor and release in some true Knight of equal plight.'"

"I am told," said the large-featured woman with some satisfaction,
"that the poem to which you allude has been generally admired."

"Admired! Senora," said Don Jose, with still darker sympathy, "it is
not the word; it is FELT. I have felt it. When I read those words of
distress, I am touched of compassion! I have said, This woman, so
disconsolate, so oppressed, must be relieved, protected! I have wrote
to you, at the 'Golden Gate,' to see me here."

"And I have come, as you perceive," said the poetess, rising with a
slight smile of constraint; "and emboldened by your appreciation, I
have brought a few trifles thrown off"--

"Pardon, unhappy Senora," interrupted Don Jose, lifting his hand
deprecatingly without relaxing his melancholy precision, "but to a
cavalier further evidence is not required--and I have not yet make
finish. I have not content myself to WRITE to you. I have sent my
trusty friend Roberto to inquire at the 'Golden Gate' of your
condition. I have found there, most unhappy and persecuted
friend--that with truly angelic forbearance you have not told ALL--that
you are MARRIED, and that of a necessity it is your husband that is
cold and soulless and unsympathizing--and all that you describe."

"Sir!" said the poetess, rising in angry consternation.

"I have written to him," continued Don Jose, with unheeding gravity;
"have appealed to him as a friend, I have conjured him as a caballero,
I have threatened him even as a champion of the Right, I have said to
him, in effect--that this must not be as it is. I have informed him
that I have made an appointment with you eve