“I will not be so disrespectful to the memory of my distinguished uncle, nor so rude toward your intelligence, my friend, as to presume that you are not familiar with the main points of his history,—­the great strides he took, almost from that time, in a most influential diplomatic career:  the embassy to St. Petersburg, and the Romanzoff-Bermudez treaty of amity and alliance in 1812, by which Alexander acknowledged the legality of the ordinary and extraordinary Cortes of Cadiz; the embassy to the Porte in 1821; his recall in 1823, and extraordinary mission to the Court of St. James; his appointment to lead the Ministry in 1824; my father’s high place in the Treasury; their joint efforts from this commanding position to counteract the violence of the Apostolical party, to meet the large requisitions of France, to cover the deficit of three hundred millions of reals, and to restore the public credit; the insults of the Absolutists, and their machinations to thwart his liberal and sagacious measures; his efforts to resign, opposed by the King; the suppression of a formidable Carlist conspiracy in 1825; the execution of Bessieres, and the ‘ham-stringing’ of Absolutist leaders; his dismissal from the Ministry in October, 1825, Ferdinand yielding to the Apostolic storm; the embassy to Dresden; his appointment as Minister at London.

“And here my story begins, for I was his Secretary of Legation then; while my brother Miguel, younger than I, was attache at Paris, where he had succeeded me, on my promotion,—­a promotion that procured for me congratulations for which I could with difficulty affect a decent show of gratitude, for I knew too well what it meant.  It was not the enlightened, liberal Minister I had to deal with, but the hard, proud uncle, full of expediencies, and calculating schemes for family advancement, and the exaltation of a lately obscure name.

“In Paris I had been admitted first to the flattering friendship, and then to the inmost heart of—­of a most lovely young lady, as noble by her character as by her lineage,”—­and he glanced at the open sketch-book.

“The Lady Angelica,” I quietly said.

“Sir!” he exclaimed, quickly changing color, and assuming his most frigid expression and manner.  But as quickly, and before I could speak, his sad smile and friendly tone returned, and he said,—­

“Ah!  I see,—­Ferdy has been babbling of his visions and his dreams.  Yes, the Lady Angelica.  ‘Very charming,’ my uncle granted, ’but very poor; less of the angel and more of the heiress was desirable,’ he said,—­’less heaven and more land.  A decayed family was only a little worse than an obscure one,—­a poor knight not a whit more respectable than a rich merchant.  I must relinquish my little romance,—­I had not time for it; I had occupation enough for the scant leisure my family duties’—­and he laid stress on the words—­’left me in the duties of my post.  He would endeavor to find arguments for the lady and employment for me.’