been enabled to save the governor's life.

"Young man," said the governor, addressing Landon with deep emotion,
"a mightier Power than the hand of man is visible in this. For the
life you have saved I will repay you in the same manner. I insure you
a full and free pardon, and you shall not have it to say that Don
Rodrigo d'Almonte, bad as he has been represented, was a monster of
ingratitude."

And he kept his word. Landon soon after set sail for England, in
company with the Hebrew family who had sheltered him, and there, in
due time, was united to the lovely Miriam, with whose beauty he had
been impressed on first sight. In England, he rejoined Hamilton and
his Spanish bride, to secure whose happiness he had perilled his own
life; and he always preserved Estella's diamond star as a memorial of
his adventures in Valencia. Soon after his arrival he received a
letter from Donna Florinda, announcing her marriage to Cesareo, whose
jealousy had been so signally excited by Landon's shadow on the
window curtain. When Don Rodrigo died, he was buried with all the
honors due to a soldier, a governor, and an eminent member of that
mild and benevolent institution, the Spanish Inquisition.

THE GAME OF CHANCE.

CHAPTER I.

At nightfall, on an autumnal evening, when the stars were just
beginning to twinkle overhead like diamonds on a canopy of azure, two
young men were standing together, engaged in conversation on the steps
of the Black Eagle, a fashionable hotel in one of the principal
streets of the gay and celebrated city of Vienna. One of them wore the
rich uniform of an Austrian hussar; the other was clad in the civic
costume of a gentleman.

"So, all is completed at the ministry of war, except the signature of
the commission, and the payment of the purchase money?" said the
soldier.

"Exactly so."

"And to-morrow, then," continued the hussar, "I am to congratulate you
on the command of a company, and salute you as Captain Ernest
Walstein."

The last speaker was Captain Christian Steinfort, an officer who had
seen some two years' service.

"Ah! my boy!" continued he, twirling his jet black mustache, "your
uniform will be a passport to the smiles of the fair. But you already
seem to have made your way to the good graces of Madame Von Berlingen,
the rich widow who resides at this hotel."

"Bah! she is forty," answered Ernest, carelessly.

"But in fine preservation, and a beauty for all that," said Captai