cause with you," and, bowing profoundly,he withdrew.
The Minister rose, as did the stranger.
"I cannot be surprised that you should not recognise in these furrowedand care-worn features the countenance of him who was the friend of youryouth," said the latter.
"My recollection is not liable to be deceived," said the Minister,scanning the stranger still more earnestly. "They recall the likenessof one long since dead, and truly mourned--one to whom I owed a debt ofgratitude never to be repaid--the preserver of my life!"
A gleam of satisfaction passed over the stranger's features. "I am notforgotten, then!" he exclaimed. "You see before you one long supposeddead--him, I trust, of whom you speak."
"What!" cried the Minister, grasping the stranger's hand. "Speak! areyou the friend of my days of neglect and poverty,--does the Luisd'Almeida I loved so well still live?"
"The same, my friend," cried the stranger, as they warmly embraced; "andgreat is my satisfaction to find that I am not forgotten."
"'Tis a happiness I can seldom, if ever, enjoy, to call any one myfriend," said the proud Minister; and a shade passed across his brow, ashe thought how completely he had isolated himself from his fellow-men.He had chosen his station--it was one of power and grandeur, but ofdanger and remorse. In each statesman of the country he saw a foe eagerto hurl him from his post; and in no one who exhibited talent would heplace confidence; he perceived treachery and hatred in the glance ofevery courtier around him, though he felt he could rule them but with arod of iron.
The two friends talked long and earnestly together, forgetful of theflight of time.
"I have one petition to make to you," said Senhor d'Almeida, for so wemay call the stranger; "it is my first, and it shall be my last."
"What! cannot I see my only friend without hearing that hateful word?"interrupted Carvalho, and a frown darkened his brow. "Yet let me hearit, for I would not willingly refuse you."
"I would ask for the pardon of one in whom all my affections arecentred--the young Count d'Almeida, my nephew."
"Ah! I have been deceived in that youth! He is accused of the darkesttreason," exclaimed the Minister.
"I will answer for his innocence--he is incapable of a dishonourabledeed," answered the uncle, warmly.
"He is in prison with others equally culpable, and I have vowed to showno mercy to any," returned the Minister. "If I waver, they deem mercyarises from weakness, and my power is at an end."
"Then have I lived and toiled in vain," said the stranger. "Pardon me,I ask but this grace, and I find that I have presumed too far on thelove you bore me."
"Stay, my friend!" exclaimed the Minister. "You wrong me and yourself:I will not refuse your request, but on one condition: your nephew mustforthwith quit the country, and till he embarks, appear to no one. Heis not proved innocent, and the guilty must not escape punishment. Iwill send some one who will, this night, set him at liberty, and conducthim to the house where you reside: from thenceforward he is under yourcharge; and remember, he must run no risk of being retaken."
The stranger expressed his sincere thanks to his powerful friend; and atlength rose to depart. Carvalho accompanied him to the ante-room, andas he saw the worthy Captain Pinto still waiting--"Senhor Pinto," hesaid, "prepare to sail, to-morrow morning, for England; I havedespatches to send by you."
The Captain intimated the readiness of his ship for sea; and,accompanied by the stranger, whom the Minister again affectionatelyembraced, he withdrew.
Volume 3, Chapter XXII.
We must once more return to the cell of the younger Goncalo Christovao,in the Jungueira prison. The person who entered, narrowly scrutinisedthe features of all the occupants; the only one of whom that seemedrather uneasy under his glance being the good Fre Diogo.
"What! you here, and in this disguise, my old friend," he said,laughing. "Are you caught at last, then?"
"I am in no disguise, but in the habit of the order to which I belong,Senhor Antonio," said the Friar.
"It matters not--my business is not with you, but with the Senhor Conded'Almeida, if he will favour me with his company," said the stranger.
Luis started as he spoke, for he recognised the officer of police whohad assisted him in his search for Clara; and he fully believed that hehad now come to conduct him to some other prison.
"I shall be ready to follow you when I have taken farewell of myfriends," he answered.
Antonio approached him, and whispered in his ear, "Fear not, I come toset you at liberty."
Delightful words to a prisoner! A thrill of joy shot through theCount's heart--he might yet be able to rescue Clara! "Stay," heanswered; "a few minutes are precious. Senhor Goncalo, I have the meansof conveying the order to the Lady Abbess to set your fair daughter atfreedom."
Writing materials were soon procured by the kind-hearted gaoler, and theimportant document being written, and signed by the fidalgo, hecommitted it to the care of Luis, saying, as he did so, "Should bettertimes come round, and should you regain your liberty, and your fortune,to no one would I more gladly consign my child's happiness."
"My liberty I trust to regain, but my fortune, alas! is irretrievablygone," answered the Count, despondingly.
Taking leave of Clara's father and brother, the latter of whom appearedrevived by the sight of his parent, Luis signified to Antonio that hewas in readiness to accompany him. Fre Diogo followed them from thecell, the door of which the gaoler locked behind them, and then bringingthe Count's cloak, and throwing it over his head, carefully led themalong the low, dark passages which Luis had traversed on his entrance,and now sincerely hoped never to see again.
"Farewell, my dear Count," whispered the Friar, as they were about toenter into a more public part of the prison; "I may as well not be seenwith you, for I must take care of my character, you know. May Heavenbless you!" and he gave Luis a hug which almost took the breath out ofhis body; then, putting his mouth to Antonio's ear, he whispered, "Havemore regard to a holy friar's cowl and gown, than to allude to days whenI was sowing my wild oats: I am a reformed character, now. Adeos!" and,with a low laugh, he glided away.
At a signal from Antonio, the guards at each post allowed him and hischarge to pass without question; and soon, to Luis's delight, he oncemore found himself breathing the free air. A carriage was in waiting,which quickly conveyed them to the other side of Lisbon, where, stoppingat the door of a house, Antonio begged Luis to descend. "Adeos, senhor,we may not perhaps, meet again," he said; "'tis my last day of service,and an agreeable duty I have performed. You will find friends awaitingyour arrival."
Luis sprung eagerly up stairs, and, entering a room, found himself inthe warm-hearted embrace of his kind friend, Captain Pinto. "Ah!" heexclaimed, as soon as he was released, "I am rejoiced to see SenhorMendez also."
"No longer Senhor Mendez, but your lost uncle, Luis d'Almeida,"exclaimed the Captain.
Luis threw himself at the feet of his uncle, who, raising him, pressedhim affectionately to his heart. "This is, indeed, a happy moment tome, my nephew, after all my sufferings, to find one of my family wholearned to love me as an outcast and a beggar!" he exclaimed.
The young Count was soon informed of the means taken to procure hisliberation, and of the banishment to which he was doomed; his uncle,however, assuring him, that it should not be passed in poverty.
"Alas!" he answered, after expressing his gratitude, "liberty andfortune are of no value, except I can share them with one to whom myheart has long been engaged;" and he hurriedly described his love forDonna Clara, the position in which she was placed, and her father'sauthority delegated to him to rescue her.
His uncle and the Captain looked at each other disappointed. "It cannotbe helped, Luis," said the latter; "you must be on board my shipto-morrow morning, when I sail for England; and all I can promise is, toland you for an hour or so at Oporto, if the sea is smooth; when you candeliver her father's despatches to the young lady, and pay a farewellvisit."
"That plan will never do," exclaimed Luis: "contrary winds might delayus, or a rough sea might prevent my landing, and Clara would be lost tome for ever. I will trust only in my own exertions; and I purpose thisvery hour to start on my journey, for I cannot rest till I know that sheis free."
"I see how it is," said the Captain; "there is but one way for it. Whathour is it? Not ten: then the Minister will yet see me. He is a sternruler when political necessity demands it, but he has yet a kind heart.Let me see, I know all the story." Without waiting to hear what anybodymight say, the Captain