He did not know whether to be piqued, angry,--or relieved of his irresolute quest.
Nevertheless, he spent the rest of the twilight and the early evening in fruitlessly wandering through the one long thoroughfare of the town, until it merged into the bosky Alameda, or spacious grove, that connected it with Santa Luisa.

By degrees his chagrin and disappointment were forgotten in the memories of the past, evoked by the familiar pathway.

The moon was slowly riding overhead, and silvering the carriage-way between the straight ebony lines of trees, while the footpaths were diapered with black and white checkers.

The faint tinkling of a tram-car bell in the distance apprised him of one of the few innovations of the past.

The car was approaching him, overtook him, and was passing, with its faintly illuminated windows, when, glancing carelessly up, he beheld at one of them the profile of the face which he had just thought he had lost forever! He stopped for an instant, not in indecision this time, but in a grim resolution to let no chance escape him now.