nd a creased and soiled bit of yellow paper. The one
was, by royal favor, a complimentary pass to a reserved place in
Westminster Abbey, on the occasion of the coronation of her Britannic
Majesty, "For the Senor Camillo Alvarez y Pintal, Chevalier of the
Noble Order of the Cid, Secretary to His Catholic Majesty's Legation
near the Court of St. James,"--the other, a Sydney pawnbroker's ticket
for books pledged by "Mr. Camilla Allverris i Pintal." He held these
contrasted certificates of Fortune,--her mocking visiting-cards, when
she called on him in palace and in cabin,--one in each hand for a
moment; and bitterly smiling, and shaking his head, turned from one to
the other. Then suddenly he let them fall to the ground, and, burying
his face in his hands, was roughly shaken through all his frame by a
great gust of agony.

I laid my hand tenderly on his shoulder: "But, Pintal," I said,--"the
Lady Angelica,--tell me why she chose that course."

In a moment the man was fiercely aroused. "Ah, true! I had forgotten
that delectable passage in my story. Why, man, Bermudez went to her,
told her that my aspirations and my prospects were so and so,--faring,
brilliant,--that she, only she, stood in the way, an impassable
stumbling-block to my glorious advancement,--told her, (devil!) that,
with all my fine passion for her, he was aware that I was not without
embarrassment on this score,--appealed to her disinterested love, to
her pride,--don't you see?--to her pride."

"And where is she now, Pintal?"

No anger now, no flush of excitement;--the man, all softened as by an
angel's touch, arose, and, with clasped hands and eyes upturned
devoutly, smiled through big tears, and without a word answered me.

I, too, was silent. Whittier had not yet written,--

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'

"Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

"And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!"

Then Pintal paced briskly to and fro a few turns across the narrow
floor of his tent, and presently stopping, said,--his first
cheerfulness, with its unwonted smile, returning,--

"But I must tell you why I should be happy today. I have a letter from
my brother Miguel, who is Secretary to the Legation at the Porte. He
has leave of absence, and is happy with his dearest friends in
Florence. He shared my disgrace until lately, but bore i