Here terminated this part of our conversation, by a digression to other topics.
The notions I had imbibed afforded me ample scope for reflection; but still I groped In the dark, and only felt a livelier desire of getting acquainted with the secret purposes of the mystic cabal.
The next day on meeting my neighbor, we resumed the lost thread of our preceding afternoon's conversation.
"How were it, Don Carlos," said he, "if we made some bold push to get at the bottom of the probabilities, on which we so much descanted yesterday." This was guessing my wishes, I perfectly coincided, with him, and we daily thought of proper steps to accomplish our 'purpose, but daily some new incident diverted us from it.
My friend Pedro had invited me one night to supper. He was rather unwell, and to avoid the draught of the air, had chosen our seats in a small lodge of the garden, from which we had a beautiful prospect of the closing beauties of the day. The cloth being drawn, I read to him the story of a favorite author. His back faced the door, and his melancholy
