Meantime, while Marcelino's friends were thus interesting themselves in his fate, there was one who was dearer to him than any other who spoke of him not at all, but who thought of him every hour in the day, and wept for him and prayed for him in the solitude of her own room at night. A young girl who lived in great quiet with her father at his quinta at the Miserere. To her parent she had spoken of him, but he had chid her roughly, telling her that doubtless he deserved his punishment, and that she was not to speak of him any more. On one Wednesday only during this time had she paid her usual visit to Doña Josefina, who had laughed at her when she had timidly asked news of Marcelino, saying: "What matters it to you?" But as she sat sewing in Doña Josefina's own room there came in another lady, young and of radiant beauty, who spoke much of Marcelino, and to her Doña Josefina talked unreservedly, and spoke confidently of his speedy release. When she had gone: "What think you of my friend Elisa?" said Doña Josefina; "Lola is very fond of her, but you and she seem hardly ever to speak to each other." "She is very beautiful," replied Magdalen. "Marcelino says she is the most beautiful girl in Buenos Aires," said the elder lady; "and he also so handsome. They are well matched, I do not know why they delay so long; Marcelino wants to amuse himself a little longer, I suppose, young men are like that, and Elisa is not impatient, but if I were she, I should be jealous." After this there was yet one Wednesday in December, but Magdalen told her father that she had a headache and would not visit the city that day. * * * * * During the last days of December there was much excitement throughout the city. Spaniards openly exulted in the speedy downfall of the Viceroy, under whose rule their monopoly of power was slowly but steadily slipping away from them. Quiet citizens, who troubled not their heads about politics, were tormented by vague apprehensions for which they could give no reason. Argentines of all ranks and ages, who had learned during the past two years to look upon their country as their own, fiercely determined that come what might, the leader they had chosen for themselves should not be thrust from his position if he would but call upon them for support. Two men only fully appreciated the danger of the crisis, Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon and Don Carlos Evaña; each of these in his own way prepared to meet it. On the morning of the 27th December, Don Carlos Evaña called his servant into his private room, and after a short conversation with him took up a sealed letter from his writing-table, which he gave to him. This letter was addressed: Al Señor Coronel Don Gregorio Lopez, Comandante de los Dragones de Las Barrancas, Su Estancia. "Now away you go," said Don Carlos, "and neither rest nor sleep till you have delivered that letter."