“Oh， very well，” said the man of office， making an entryin his volume. “Your affair will be easily transacted. Thisspecies of brokerage makes no inconsiderable part of mybusiness； and there is always a large assortment of thearticle to select from. Here， if I mistake not， comes apretty fair sample.”
Even as he spoke， the door was gently and slowly thrustajar， affording a glimpse of the slender figure of a younggirl， who， as she timidly entered， seemed to bring thelight and cheerfulness of the outer atmosphere into thesomewhat gloomy apartment. We know not her errandthere； nor can we reveal whether the young man gaveup his heart into her custody. If so， the arrangement wasneither better nor worse than in ninety-nine cases outof a hundred， where the parallel sensibilities of a similarage， importunate affections， and the easy satisfaction ofcharacters not deeply conscious of themselves， supply theplace of any profounder sympathy.
Not always， however， was the agency of the passionsand affections an office of so little trouble. It happened—rarely， indeed， in proportion to the cases that came underan ordinary rule， but still it did happen—that a heart wasoccasionally brought hither， of such exquisite material， sodelicately attempered， and so curiously wrought， that noother heart could be found to match it. It might almost beconsidered a misfortune， in a worldly point of view， to bethe possessor of such a diamond of the purest water； sincein any reasonable probability， it could only be exchangedfor an ordinary pebble， or a bit of cunningly manufacturedglass， or， at least， for a jewel of native richness， but ill-set，or with some fatal flaw， or an earthy vein running throughits central lustre. To choose another figure， it is sad thathearts which have their well-spring in the infinite， andcontain inexhaustible sympathies， should ever be doomedto pour themselves into shallow vessels， and thus lavishtheir rich affections on the ground. Strange， that thefiner and deeper nature， whether in man or woman， whilepossessed of every other delicate instinct， should so oftenlack that most invaluable one， of preserving itself fromcontamination with what is of a baser kind！ Sometimes，it is true， the spiritual fountain is kept pure by a wisdomwithin itself， and sparkles into the light of heaven，without a stain from the earthy strata through which ithas gushed upward. And sometimes， even here on earth，the pure mingles with the pure， and the inexhaustible isrecompensed with the infinite. But these miracles， thoughhe should claim the credit of them， are far beyond thescope of such a superficial agent in human affairs， as thefigure in the mysterious spectacles.
Again the door was opened， admitting the bustle ofthe city with a fresher reverberation into the IntelligenceOffice. Now entered a man of wo begone and downcastlook； it was such an aspect as if he had lost the very soulout of his body， and had traversed all the world over，searching in the dust of the highways， and along the shadyfootpaths， and beneath the leaves of the forest， and amongthe sands of the sea-shore， in hopes to recover it again.
He had bent an anxious glance along the pavement of thestreet， as he came hitherward； he looked， also， in the angleof the door-step， and upon the floor of the room； and，finally， coming up to the Man of Intelligence， he gazedthrough the inscrutable spectacles which the latter wore，as if the lost treasure might be hidden within his eyes.
“I have lost—” he began； and then he paused. “Yes，” saidthe Intelligencer， “I see that you have lost—but what？”
“I have lost a precious jewel，” replied the unfortunateperson， “the like of which is not to be found among anyprince’s treasures. While I possessed it， the contemplationof it was my sole and sufficient happiness. No price shouldhave purchased it of me； but it has fallen from my bosom，where I wore it， in my careless wanderings about the city.”