“Friends interceded, for the feud soon became public, and, amongst others, I essayed to heal it; and with the fond, although passionate father, I easily succeeded; but how true it is, ‘that evil communication corrupts good manners!’ I found Federico, by this time, linked in bands of steel with a junto of desperadoes, whose calling was any thing but equivocal; and implacable to a degree, that, knowing him as I had known him, I had believed impossible. But, alas, the human heart is indeed desperately wicked. I struggled long with the excellent Father Carera to bring about a reconciliation, and thought we had succeeded, as Federico was induced to return to his father’s house once more, and for many days and weeks we all flattered ourselves that he had reformed; until one morning, about four months ago, he was discovered coming out of his cousin’s room about the dawning by his father, who immediately charged him with seducing his ward. High words ensued. Poor Maria rushed out and threw herself at her uncle’s feet. The old man, in a transport of fury, kicked her on the face as she lay prostrate; whereupon, God help me, he was felled to the earth by his own flesh, and bone, and blood--by his abandoned son.” ‘What rein can hold licentious wickedness, When down the hill he holds his fierce career?’ “The rest is soon told;--he joined the pirate vessels at Puerto Escondido, and, from his daring and reckless intrepidity, soon rose to command amongst them, and was proceeding in his infernal career, when the God whom he had so fearfully defied at length sent him to expiate his crimes on the scaffold.” “But the priest”--said I, much excited. “True,” continued Don Ricardo, “Padre Carera brought a joint message from his poor mother, and sister, and--and, oh my darling god-child, my heart--dear Maria!”. And the kind old man wept bitterly. I was much moved. “Why, Mr Cringle,” said Transom, “if you have promised to deliver the trinkets in propria persona, there’s an end, take leave--nothing doing down yonder--send Tailtackle for clothes. Mr Reefpoint, go to the boat and send up Tailtackle; so go you must to these unfortunates, and we shall then start on our cruise to the Coffee Estate with our worthy host.” “Why,” said Campana; “the family are in the country; they live about four miles from Santiago, on the very road to my property, and we shall call on our way; but I don’t much admire these interviews there will be a scene, I fear.” “Not on my part,” said I; “but call I must, for I solemnly promised,” and presented the miniature to Don Ricardo.