the beautiful and rich English girl? But Francisco had no invention—he could devise no expedient by which he could step into the other's place. A thousand old grudges rose up in his memory—the reward lost its value in his eyes—and he arrived at the sure conclusion of the envious, that if he could not make, he could mar. The last finish was given to his displeasure by being sent for the priest while his companions sat down to supper. Off he set in one of the worst possible humours, and exaggerated to the utmost what he termed his comrade's luck.
Now, the difference between good and bad intentions is this:—that good intentions are so very satisfactory in themselves, that it really seems a work of supererogation to carry them into execution; whereas evil ones have a restlessness that can only be satisfied by action—and, to the shame of fate be it said, very many facilities always offer for their being effected.
Francisco was considering Giulio's good fortune, as if it had been taken away from himself, when he caught sight of Mr. Spenser. A thousand plans floated in most various ingenuity through his brain, which finally settled
