continued, extending his hand with the paper. "Readthat, and see how I have been deceived; and alas! my poor child has beensacrificed;" and he sunk into his chair, covering his eyes with hishands, while Luis read the letter. It was to the following effect:--
"Heaven has thought fit to summon me from this world, during yourabsence, my beloved husband, and already do I feel the near approach ofdeath. Alas! I have no one to whom I can confide my dying wishes, anda secret which I would entrust but to your ears alone. I thereforewrite with faltering hand this paper, which I trust may be seen by oursweet Clara, and given to you. It is for her sake I am anxious; for Isee perils surrounding her course through life, which will require all amother's care to guard against.
"Do not, as you value her happiness or your own, confide in the FatherAlfonzo. He is a wretched hypocrite; yet till lately I discovered itnot. For many days past has he been endeavouring to persuade me todevote our Clara to the service of the Church; but I know too well themisery and wretchedness it will entail on her, and firmly have I refusedto sanction his plan. While I spoke, he smiled scornfully in return,nor do I doubt his purpose. He has long hated me, for he knew I was notdeceived in him. As you love me, as you prize our child's happiness,let her select her own lot in life; but warn her against the dangers ofa convent. She will never insist on wedding one beneath her in family;but never insist on her marrying one she cannot learn to love. My eyesgrow dim, my hand weak, yet do I exert myself, during the absence of FreAlfonzo, to finish this, lest he should return before I have concealedit. Adieu! my beloved husband! ere you can reach your home, I shallhave ceased to breathe; and, as you have loved me in life, forget not mydying prayer."
The last lines were faint and almost illegible. Luis returned the paperwith a look of despair, and, for a minute, the father and the loverstood gazing at each other, without uttering a word.
"What hope is there?" at last exclaimed the Fidalgo.
"Alas, none!" was the dejected reply of Luis; then, suddenly rousinghimself, he exclaimed, "Yes, there is hope! I will escape from hence,and save her, or die in the attempt! Give me but your written order tothe Lady Abbess, to prevent your daughter's taking the veil, and I willbear it to her, and also a note to Donna Clara, to assure her of hermother's real prayer, and of your consent to her following her owninclinations."
"Alas, I fear such is but a hopeless chance," said the Fidalgo. "Wemust confide the order to some one who is at freedom."
"No one can be found who would hasten as I will; for no one has the sameexcitement," answered Luis.
"Remember you are still a captive," said the Fidalgo, mournfully.
"Alas! too true," ejaculated Luis.
Just as he spoke the door opened, and the gaoler, whispering to them towalk carefully, beckoned them to follow him, while he led the way to thecell of the young Goncalo. The son uttered a cry of joy, as he rose toembrace his father, and then sunk down languidly on his couch. For manyminutes they remained in earnest conversation; the fidalgo seeming toforget his daughter in the joy of recovering his son, while Luis, in themean time, explained to Fre Diogo the importance of the paper he hadpreserved, beseeching him to lend his assistance, either in aiding hisescape, or in forwarding the fidalgo's despatch to Oporto.
"I am happy to do all I can to mitigate the irksomeness of yourimprisonment, my friend; but it is more than I can do to risk my neck inaiding your escape, or carrying any communication beyond the walls ofthe prison, which would, most certainly, be discovered, and punishedwith almost equal severity. Think better of it, Count; there is no userunning so much risk for the sake of any girl under the sun. Let hertake the veil, she will be happy enough; and, when you get out of thisplace, you can easily find another to make amends for her loss."
"You have never been in love, to speak thus," exclaimed Luis.
"No, thank Heaven, I never have," answered the Friar. "I never saw anygood come of such folly."
"Then, have I no hopes of your assistance?" asked Luis.
The Friar shook his head.
Meantime the fidalgo rose from his son's couch, over which he had beenleaning, and took the Count's hand--"Pardon me, for all the wrong I havedone you!" he exclaimed; "but you see how severely I have been punished.My poor boy!" and he pointed to young Goncalo, and his voicefaltered--"and my fair daughter. Have you persuaded the good Friar toforward the letter I will write to the Lady Abbess?"
"He refuses to aid me," answered Luis, again appealing, in vain, to theFriar.
"Then I have no hope!" exclaimed the unhappy father, sinking into achair.
The bolts, as he spoke, were heard to be withdrawn, and a strangerentered the cell.
Volume 3, Chapter XXI.
The day following the execution of the Duke of Aveiro and his unhappycompanions, a fine merchant ship was seen to glide slowly up the broadTagus, dropping her anchor within a short distance of a frigate, whichlay off Lisbon. A person of some consequence seemed to be on board theformer, for a boat quickly pushed off from the sides of the frigate,bearing her Captain; and approached the merchantman. He eagerly steppedon board, and hastened towards a venerable and dignified-looking man,who was pacing the deck, with short and hurried steps, casting anxiousglances towards the city, while several attendants stood round, andvarious chests and packages lay about, as if ready for speedydisembarkation.
No sooner did the stranger see the Captain of the frigate, than headvanced to embrace him, with an expression of satisfaction, "Ah! mykind friend, Captain Pinto," he exclaimed, "this is kind indeed! Thelast to see me off, and the first to welcome my return to Portugal, nolonger a wanderer and an outcast, but at length with my toils at an end,and my property secured."
"I rejoice to hear it," answered our old friend, Captain Pinto, "thoughI have some sad news to give in return, which I will communicate as wepull on shore, if you are now prepared to accompany me."
"Gladly! I long once more to tread my native land," returned thestranger, as he descended with the Captain into the boat. The distanceto the landing-place was not great; but, during the short time occupiedin reaching it, many important matters were discussed; and, for thefirst time, the stranger learned of the conspiracy, and the dreadfulpunishment of those supposed to be the chief leaders, and theimprisonment of many hundreds of others implicated in it.
"Poor boy! it wrings my heart with grief to hear it!" exclaimed thestranger, as they neared the shore: "I cannot believe him guilty."
"Nor I neither," said the Captain. "I have in vain endeavoured todiscover the place of his imprisonment, and would risk all to save him.It is reported that the Minister has determined to punish many more,either by banishment to the coast of Africa, or by death; but, withoutinterest, as I am, I could do nothing till your arrival, for which Ihave anxiously waited. Our only chance of success is by an appeal tothe Minister himself."
"To the Minister we will appeal, then," said the stranger; "I have somehope through him. He will scarcely refuse the first petition of an oldand long-lost friend."
"We have not a moment to lose; for Sebastiao Joze is a man both quick tothink and to execute, and even now my young friend may be embarking forAngola," said the Captain, as the boat touched the shore.
A smile of satisfaction passed over the stranger's features, as he oncemore landed in his native country, but it quickly vanished as he thoughtof all the miseries that country was suffering; and, accompanied byCaptain Pinto, whose well-known person enabled him to pass without theinterference of the police, he hurried towards the residence of theMinister. As they arrived in sight of the house, they observed a strongbody of cavalry dashing down the street at full speed, who halted infront of it, and, from among them, the commanding figure of Carvalho wasseen to dismount from his horse, and enter the building.
"What means this?" asked the stranger. "Does the preserver of hiscountry require a body-guard?"
"The corrector of abuses, we should say, or the despotic tyrant, as hisenemies call him, does," observed the Captain,
cautiously. "Alas! bysuch means only can our countrymen be governed."
When they arrived, they found a guard drawn up in the entrance-hall; andafter Captain Pinto had sent up his name, requesting an audience, theywere compelled to wait a considerable time in an ante-room, before theywere admitted.
The stranger smiled,--"Times have changed since we parted," he said.
The great Minister rose to receive them, with his usual courtesy, asthey entered, desiring them to be seated, while his piercing eye glancedsternly at the stranger with an inquiring look, as he demanded of theCaptain the cause of his visit.
"I came, your Excellency, to introduce one, whom, with your permission,I will now leave to plead his