"The leading character was a Spanish grandee, a Duke of high Castilian line, who dwelt among the mountains of Spain. He had numerous valiant retainers, and one only child--a proud and beautiful daughter named Inez. In the service of the Duke was a handsome page of eighteen, brave, courtly, endowed with manly graces and a talent for music. This he used so skilfully that the love-songs he sang to his light guitar took captive the heart of the fair Inez. Their love was discovered, and the handsome page banished from the castle. But they managed to meet, and my hero carried off his prize. Together they mounted his snow-white steed, and dashed away to the hermitage of an old monk, who lived alone on a wild and dreary mountain-side. The Duke pursued the fugitives with armed retinue, and brought his disobedient daughter back to her ancestral halls. The page escaped, went to Venice, and enlisted in the army about to march to Palestine. He wore his armor by night and day, never opening his visor except to eat, so that his nearest comrades rarely saw his face. He performed prodigies of valor, was ever in the forefront of battle, a mysterious but conspicuous figure. He became famous, and was made a knight. By the time he returned to Spain all the countries of the Mediterranean had heard of his prowess, and were proud to do him honor. He was tendered a grand banquet at the Duke's castle; but the old enemy did not recognize in the Knight of the Closed Helmet his former page. The lovely Inez, of course, knew him at once, and he found her of true heart and constant mind. The father was delighted to see the impression his child made upon the gallant knight, and with his free consent they were soon betrothed and married. After the wedding the page disclosed his real name--I regret to have forgotten it--and all was forgiven, the old Duke only too willing to call the brave warrior of Holy Cross his son." "Did you complete the story?" "Oh yes! Every week my instalment was ready, my audience rapt and sympathetic, and the generous applause most encouraging." "Was the MSS. lengthy?" "Two hundred and thirty pages of foolscap, closely written." "How much I should like to see it! Do you know what became of it?" "I am sorry to say it was lost. I left it in my father's library when I went to the Mexican war in 1847; when I returned, the unfortunate 'Man-at-Arms' was not to be found. I never knew how he came to his end." "Of course, as a member of the society, you obeyed the order of your president; but aside from that fact, what were your inducements to writing the story?"