the vast space that morning, wondering so much wealth
had been wasted on this poor fabric, a female, apparently a lady,
dressed in sable garments, her face veiled by the graceful mantilla,
glided up to us and solicited alms.

At the first moment we thought we had mistaken her meaning, but on
looking at her in doubt, she repeated her demand more imploringly.

"Senor, for the love of heaven, give me charity." The building was
large, the worshippers were few, it was easy to converse.

"But what do you mean?" we said. "You look too respectable to be asking
alms. Surely you cannot be in want?"

"In want? I am starving."

And throwing back her mantilla she disclosed a face still young, still
fair to excess, but pale, pinched and careworn.

We felt terribly uncomfortable. She walked and spoke as a lady. There
was a refinement in her voice and movement that could only have come
from gentle breeding. How had she fallen so low? Eyes must have asked
the question tongue could not.

[Illustration: BRIDGE AND CATHEDRAL OF EL PILAR: ZARAGOZA.]

"Listen, senor," she said, as though in reply. "Listen and pity me. I
was tenderly and delicately brought up, possessed a comfortable home,
indulgent parents. We lived in Madrid, where my father held an office
under Government. I was an only child and indulged. Pale, quiet and
subdued as you see me now, I was passionate, headstrong and wilful. I
fell under the influence of one outwardly an angel, inwardly a demon. He
was a singer at the opera, and his voice charmed me even more than his
splendid presence. He was beneath me, but we met clandestinely again and
again, until at last he persuaded me to fly with him. I was infatuated
to madness. All my past life, all past influence, teaching, thought of
home, love of parents--all was thrown to the winds for this wild
passion. We were secretly married before we fled, for mad as I was I had
not lost all sense of honour. Almost from the very first day retribution
set in. My father had long suffered from disease of the heart though I
knew it not, and the shock of my flight killed him. The home was broken
up, my mother was left almost destitute, and in a frenzy of despair, a
moment of insanity, took poison. I was an orphan, and then discovered
that my husband had thought I should be rich. On learning the truth, he
began to ill-treat me. His fancy had been caught for a moment by my fair
face. Of this he soon tired and, base villain that he was, tra