San Tome" mine at the first news of failure. Don

Carlos had made up his mind not to leave it behind, and he had the right men to see to it, too." Thus Captain Mitchell would talk in the middle of the Plaza, holding over his head a white umbrella with a green lining; but inside the cathedral, in the dim light, with a faint scent of incense floating in the cool atmosphere and here and there a kneeling female fig- ure, black or all white, with a veiled head, his lowered voice became solemn and impressive. "Here," he would say, pointing to a niche in the wall of the dusky aisle, "you see the bust of Don Jose* Avellanos, 'Patriot and Statesman,' as the inscription says, 'Minister to Courts of England and Spain, etc., etc., died in the woods of Los Hatos, worn out with his life-long struggle for Right and Justice, at the dawn of the New Era.' A fair likeness. Parrochetti's work from some old photographs and a pencil - sketch by Mrs. Gould. I was well acquainted with that dis- tinguished Spanish- American of the old school, a true Hidalgo, beloved by everybody who knew him. The marble medallion in the wall, in the antique style, representing a veiled woman seated with her hands clasped loosely over her knees, commemorates that un- fortunate young gentleman who sailed out with Nos- tromo on that fatal night, sir. See, 'To the memory of Martin Decoud, his betrothed Antonia Avellanos.' Frank, simple, noble. There you have that lady, sir, as she is. An exceptional woman. Those who thought she would give way to despair were mistaken, sir. She has been blamed in many quarters for not having

taken the veil. It was expected of her. But Dona