Brown compressed his lips, partly nodded, partly shook his head, raised his eye-brows, and turned away, like a man who is only half convinced, and who has made some discovery that he hesitates to unfold. At supper that evening, Julia Vandewater was as gracious as usual; but when he arose to go abroad, she said to him as he passed the door, ‘You keep very late hours, Sir Lorenzo; I must take you in charge, myself.’ Although this was said in a tone of raillery, yet there was the slightest possible air of reproof in it, enough to make Monteagle feel that the deluded girl considered herself entitled to express an opinion upon his conduct. As he travelled over the hills towards the town, the youth said to himself—‘Would it be more cruel to break this bubble at once, or suffer it to collapse of itself in due time? Surely a flame that is never fed won’t burn long, and I have given Julia not the least reason to suppose that I regarded her with partiality.’ He had arrived at a thick clump of bushes, at a considerable distance from any house though a small rancho was in plain sight, when he heard something stir among the leaves and branches. He drew out his revolver. ‘Will you shoot me?’ inquired a silver voice, and in another moment, Maria stood before him. ‘Ah! Good night. I wanted to see you,’ said Monteagle. ‘I received your note—’ ‘When?’ ‘Not till to day,’ replied the youth, ‘although it must have been written two or three days ago.’ ‘He’s longer than that,’ replied Maria, ‘I waited for you nearly all night.’ ‘At the place you designated—under the cliff?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then your business must be important. I am sorry that I did not get the note in time.’ Maria remained silent some moments. At length, she began—‘My errand is no great things. I wanted to see you.’ The youth laid his hand on her shoulder kindly. ‘No—’said she—‘You don’t understand. All you, gentlemens, think girls love you always. Nothing to do but love man, when man laugh at her,’ and she shook her locks independently. ‘But I am glad to see you at any rate,’ said Monteagle. ‘Oh, yes, you are very glad to see me—some—but you are more glad to see—’ ‘Whom?’ ‘You know best.’ Monteagle thought of Loretto, whose witching graces and rich personal charms had, indeed, wrought powerfully upon his imagination. ‘Come tell me where she lives,’ said he. ‘You have just come from there,’ returned Maria. ‘No, upon my honor, I have not been there since last night.’ Maria started, and her eyes shone brilliantly as she gazed into his face. ‘Not been home to-day?’ cried she. ‘Ah, yes, I have just come from the house of Mr. Vandewater.’ ‘And who lives _there_?’ inquired she, fixing her eyes keenly on the face of the youth. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Vandewater, their niece and the servants,’ replied he. ‘The niece! the niece!’ cried Maria. ‘What of _her_?’ ‘A very fine young lady, I believe.’ ‘Very fine? Yes, very fine—you find her so? Very fine.’