Pausing a moment, Maria opened the note, and read it by the light of the chandelier. The paper dropped from her hand, and she stood a moment as if transfixed with astonishment. ‘She! Oh! She! the holy and devoted one!’ cried Maria, at last, clasping her hands. ‘She, here—she come to this place—and all for me—for me—’ ‘Come, come,’ cried the impatient youth. ‘Come, my beautiful one, and let us enjoy—’ ‘Enjoy nothing. Not to-night; some other time. I can do nothing to-night. So she has remembered me. She has not forgotten those days of innocence. Ah, me—they are gone _now_!’ These words were spoken in Spanish; but Monteagle found no difficulty in understanding them, and they partially restored him to a sense of his present plight. But who was this ‘holy and devoted one?’ Some nun, no doubt, who had stepped between him and his enjoyments. Monteagle, whose passions were much excited, stood looking at the fine form and swelling graces of the Spanish girl; her tapering limbs, her little feet, her large dark eyes, and lovely mouth. ‘Surely,’ said he, ‘you will not be so unkind—’ ‘Hush!’ cried Maria, clapping her hand on his mouth. ‘I am nothing this evening. _Her_ hand has written this, and I cannot see you to-night,’ and here the girl sat down upon the stairs, and fell into a deep reverie. ‘What shall I do?’ thought Monteagle, ‘If I speak to another girl, every eye will be upon me; all sorts of surmises. No, no, I have it. I will consult Blodget.’ He then slipped a slug into the hand of Maria, who seemed to be almost unconscious of the act, and stepping to the door of the saloon, he opened it, and called to his companion. Blodget was lazily conversing with the mistress of the house upon some topic of general interest, and though surrounded on all sides by the most fascinating beauties of almost every civilized country—who threw out their lures to entrap him, he appeared as unconscious as a pair of tongs in a china shop. When he heard Monteagle pronounce his name, he looked up surprised: he fairly started, and seizing his hat, quickly came out to him. They passed into the street together. ‘What have you done with Maria?’ said Blodget. ‘She has received a note from somebody, and has retired alone to ponder upon its contents,’ answered the youth. ‘Oh! I know—I think, at least, that the lady who followed you out—the lady in the mask—ha! ha! ha! I think that she must have brought the note. But did she not make you acquainted with its contents?’ ‘No. But whatever its contents were, they made a deep impression upon her.’