and steadiness, entirely free from that vice of gambling which was the bane of all classes in Spanish South America.  Mary sighed as she heard Louis speak so innocently of ’all classes’—­it was too true, as he would find to his cost, when he came to look into their affairs, and learn what Rosita had squandered.  Next, he asked about the other clerk, Ford, of whom Mary knew very little, except that she had heard Robson mention to her father, when preparing to set out for Guayaquil, that in the consequent press of business he had engaged a new assistant, who had come from Rio as servant to a traveller.  She had sometimes heard Robson speak in praise of his acquisition, and exalt him above Madison; and once or twice she had seen him, and fancied him like some one whom she had known somewhere, but she had for many months seldom left her father’s room, and knew little of what passed beyond it.

Louis took his leave early, as he had to examine his prize, the pocket-book, and make up his case before confronting Robson; and he told Mary that he should refrain from seeing her on the morrow until the ‘tug of war should be over.’  ’Mr. Ward promises to come to help me,’ he added.  ’Really, Mary, I never saw a more generous or considerate person.  I am constantly on the point of begging his pardon.’

‘I must thank him some way or other,’ said Mary; ’his forbearance has been beautiful.  I only wish he would have believed me, for I always told him the plain truth.  It would have spared him something; but nobody would trust my account of you.’

The morning came, and with it Madison; but patient as Fitzjocelyn usually was, he was extremely annoyed at finding his precious time wasted by Robson’s delay in keeping his appointment.  After allowing for differing clocks, for tropical habits, and every other imaginable excuse for unpunctuality, he decided that there must have been some mistake, and set off to call at the counting-house.

A black porter opened the door, and he stepped forward into the inner room, where, leaning lazily back before a desk, smoking a cigar over his newspaper, arrayed in a loose white jacket, with open throat and slippered feet, reposed a gentleman, much transformed from the spruce butler, but not difficult of recognition.  He started to his feet with equal alacrity and consternation, and bowed, not committing himself until he should see whether he were actually known to his lordship.  Fitzjocelyn was in too great haste to pause on this matter, and quickly acknowledging the salutation, as if that of a stranger, demanded where Mr. Robson was.

In genuine surprise and alarm, Ford exclaimed that he had not seen him; he thought he was gone to meet his lordship at the Consular residence.  No! could he be at his own house?  It was close by, and the question was asked, but the Senor Robson had gone out in the very early morning.  Ford looked paler and paler, and while Louis said he would go and inquire for him at Miss Ponsonby’s, offered to go down to the Consul’s to see if he had arrived there in the meantime.