"I think we had best call on the lady who bought the girl Sally; from her--Sally, I mean--we might learn the name and residence of the gentleman who bought Jim, and of which we are at present in ignorance."

"Who is the lady, and where does she live?"

"We do not know her name either; Katie could not tell us; but she lives in the city, and Katie can direct the coachman where to drive.

And now as the carriage is at the door, I think we had better start at once."

"I think so, too," said the judge.

And accordingly the whole party went downstairs and re-entered the carriage, with the exception of Katie, who again mounted the box beside the driver for the purpose of directing him.

Katie, who could not, if it were to save her life, remember the name of any place or person in that "barbareous" land, as she called it, yet possessed the canine memory of localities; so she directed the coachman through the shortest cut of the city towards the beautiful suburb Guadaloupe, and then to an elegant mansion of white granite, standing within its own luxuriant grounds.

On seeing the carriage draw up and stop before the gate of this aristocratic residence, the young consul suddenly changed color and said:

"This is the palace of the Senora Donna Eleanora Pacheco, Countess de la Santa Cruz."

"You know this lady?" inquired the judge.

Mr. Tourneysee bowed.

The porter threw open the great gate, and the carriage rolled along a lovely shaded avenue, up before the white marble facade of the palace, where it stopped.

"If you please, I will send your cards in with my own. As I am known to the senora, it may insure you a speedier audience."

"We thank you very much," said Ishmael, placing his own and the judge's cards in the hands of the consul, who alighted, went up the marble steps to the front door, and rang.

A footman opened the door, took in the cards, and after a few moments returned.

"The countess will see the senors," was the message that the consul smilingly brought back to his friends in the carriage.

Then all alighted and went into the house.

The same footman, a jet black young negro, in gorgeous livery of purple and gold, led them into a small, elegantly furnished reception room, where, seated on a sofa, and toying with a fan, was one of the loveliest little dark-eyed Creoles that ever was seen.

She did not rise, but extended her hand with a graceful gesture and gracious smile to welcome her visitors.

Tourneysee advanced, with a deep and reverential bow, that would have done honor to the gravest and most courteous hidalgo of that grave and courteous people.

"Senora," he said, with great formality, "I have the honor to present to your ladyship Chief Justice Merlin, of the United States Supreme Court. Judge Merlin, the Countess de la Santa Cruz."

The judge made a profound bow, which the lady acknowledged by a gracious bend of the head.

With the same serious and stately formality, which was certainly not natural to the young Marylander, but which was assumed, in deference to the grave character of Spanish etiquette, Mr. Tourneysee next presented:

"Mr. Worth, of the Washington bar."

The low obeisance of this visitor was received with even a more gracious smile than had been vouchsafed to that of the judge.

When they were seated, in accordance with the lady's invitation, the conversation turned upon the ordinary topics of the day: the weather; the opera; the last drawing room at the Government Palace; the new Captain General and his beautiful bride, etc., etc., etc.

The judge fidgeted; Ishmael was impatient; the consul perplexed. It was necessary to speak of the affair that brought them there. Yet how was it possible without offense to introduce any topic of business in that bower of beauty, to that indolent Venus, whose only occupation was to toy with her fan; whose only conversation was of sunshine, flowers, music, balls, and brides?

Clearly neither the judge nor the consul had the courage to obtrude any serious subject upon her. The disagreeable task was at length assumed by Ishmael, who never permitted himself to shrink from a duty merely because it was an unpleasant one.

Taking advantage, therefore, of a break in the conversation, he turned to the lady and, speaking with grave courtesy, said:

"Will the senora pardon me for beseeching her attention to an affair of great moment which has brought us to her presence?"

The "senora" lifted her long, curled lashes until they touched her brows, and opened wide her large, soft, dark eyes in childish wonder. "An affair of great moment!" What could it be? A masked ball? a parlor concert? private theatricals? a--what? She could not imagine. Dropping her eyelids demurely, she answered softly:

"Proceed, senor."

Ishmael then briefly explained to her the business upon which they had come.

The senora was as sensible as she was beautiful, and as benevolent as she was sensible. She listened to the story of the negroes'

abduction with as much sympathy as curiosity, and at the end of the narrative she exclaimed:

"What villains there are in this world!"

Ishmael then delicately referred to their wish to purchase the girl Sally.

The senora promptly assented to the implied desire.

"It was my steward, Miguel Manello, who bought her for me. I did not particularly want her. And I find her of very little use to me. She cannot understand one word that is said to her. And she does nothing from morning until night but weep, weep, weep tears enough to float away the house."

"Poor girl!" muttered Ishmael.

"So if the senor wishes to recover her he can take her now, or at any time."

Ishmael delicately hinted at the purchase money.

"Oh, I know nothing about such matters. I will send my steward to wait on the senor at his hotel this evening. The senor can then arrange the matter with him."

Ishmael expressed his thanks, arose, and bowed as if to take leave.

But the lady waved her hand, and said in a sweet but peremptory manner:

"Be seated, senor."

With another inclination of the head, Ishmael resumed his seat. The lady rang a silver bell that stood on a stand at his right hand and brought to her presence the gorgeous, sable footman.

"Serve the senors with refreshments," was the order given and promptly obeyed.

An elegant little repast was set before them, consisting of delicious coffee, chocolate, fresh fruits, cakes, and sweetmeats.

And only when they had done full justice to these delicacies would their hostess permit them to retire.

Again Ishmael bowed with profound deference, expressed his thanks on the part of himself and his friends, and finally took leave.

On going from the room they noticed a person, who, from the extreme quietness of her manner, had escaped their observation until this moment. She was a woman of about sixty years of age, clad in the habit of a lay-sister of the Benedictine Order, and seated within a curtained recess, and engaged in reading her "office." She was probably doing duty as duenna to the beautiful widow.