ask you, you are no politician?'

'No, senora,' replied Conyngham hastily; 'no; and if I were, I
should never understand Spanish politics.'

'Father Concha says that Spanish politics are the same as those of
any other country--each man for himself,' said Julia with a bitter
laugh.

'And he is, no doubt, right.'

'Do you really think so?' asked Julia Barenna, with more earnestness
than the question would seem to require; 'are there not true
patriots who sacrifice all--not only their friends, but themselves--
to the cause of their country?'

'Without the hope of reward?'

'Yes.'

'There may be, senorita--a few,' answered Conyngham with a laugh,
'but not in my country. They must all be in Spain.'

She smiled and shook her head in doubt. But it was a worn smile.

The Englishman turned away and looked through the trees. He was
wondering how he could get speech with Julia alone for a moment.

'You are admiring the garden,' said that young lady; and this time
he knew that there had in reality been that meaning in her eyes