pure as they; and that she should have been making
herself the talk of a fellow like that, and writing so sweet to me all
the time!--No, my Lord, there's no excusing it; and 'twas her being
gone after the rest that made it so bitter hard to me! If she had been
true, I would have gone through fire and water to be an honest man
worthy of her; but when I found how she had deceived me, it went hard
with me to cut myself off from the wild mountain life that I'd got to
love, and my poor niggers, that will hardly have so kind a master set
over them.'

'You have stood the fiery ordeal well,' said Louis; 'and I verily
believe that you will soon find that it was only an ordeal.'

The care of Tom was a wholesome distraction to the suspense that became
almost agony as Louis approached Peru, and beheld the gigantic summits
of the more northern Andes, which sunset revealed shining out white and
fitfully, like the Pilgrim's vision of the Celestial City, although,
owing to their extreme distance, even on a bright noonday, nothing was
visible but clear deep-blue sky. They seemed to make him realize that
the decisive moment was near, when he should tread the same soil with
Mary, and yet, as he stood silently watching those glorious heights,
human hopes and cares seemed to shrink into nothing before the eternity
and Infinite Greatness of which the depth and the height spoke. Yet He
remembereth the hairs of our heads, Who weigheth the mountains in the
balance, and counteth the isles as a very little thing. Louis took
comfort, but nerved himself for resignation; his prayer was more, that
he might bear rightly whatever might be in store, than that he should
succeed. He could hardly have made the latter petition with that
submissiveness and reserve befitting all entreaty for blessings of this
passing world.

CHAPTER XXII.

RATHER SUDDEN.

O! would you hear of a Spanish lady,
How she woo'd an Englishman?
Garments gay, as rich as may be,
Decked with jewels she had on.
Old Ballad.

The white buildings of Callao looked out of the palm gardens, and, with
throbbing heart, Fitzjocelyn was set on shore, leaving Madison on board
until he should hear from him that evening or the next morning.

Hiring a calesa, he drove at once to Lima, to the house of the late Mr.
Ponsonby. The heavy folding gates admitted him to the archway, where
various negroes were loitering; and as he inquired for the la