could not divest himself of the feeling, that someindefinite disaster was hanging over him, yet that he wanted the powerto avoid it. It is a sensation we have often ourselves experienced,although our forebodings have seldom, if ever, been accomplished; until,at last, we have learned to consider them as arising more from theeffects of past sorrows, fears, or annoyances, than from any prescienceof forthcoming events. Luis, however, had many reasons for hisfeelings, both from the past and for the future. His spirits werelowered by many griefs; the loss of her he loved--his father's death--the destruction of his property,--and he was too well aware that manydangers surrounded him; for, from the language his young friend hadused, in the course of their conversation, he could not help suspectingthat the younger Marquis was meditating some desperate plot against thegovernment, if not against the King himself; nor could he tell how farhe might find himself compromised by his connexion with him.
Daylight had nearly departed, when Joze de Tavora, with a servant on asecond horse, rode up to the house.
"Up, mount, my dear Count!" he exclaimed, as soon as Luis appeared atthe door. "I have brought you a good steed, and we have no time tolose. Our servants must follow in the best way they can on foot, andkeep us in sight. I will tell you whither lies our course as we ridealong."
Luis, accordingly, desiring Pedro to follow, mounted a dark stoutSpanish horse, provided for him; and at an easy pace, the fastest,however, that the execrable roads would allow of, they wound their wayfor a considerable distance through the outskirts of the city, to thenorth of Belem, passing beneath one of the vast arches of the grandaqueduct, which had, fortunately, escaped the devastating effects of theearthquake with but slight injury, and then, turning to the left, theyapproached the river to the westward of the castle.
"Whither are we going?" asked Luis. "Are we near your brother's abode?"
"We are yet a long way from it," answered his companion, "though we gonot much further on horseback. I ought to have told you, that aconsiderable part of our journey must be by water; yet, as it is a finenight, that will be by far the most agreeable mode of conveyance, if youdo not object to it."
Luis assenting to the proposal, they soon after reached a sheltered spotbeneath a high wall, where, dismounting, they left their horses incharge of the servants, and proceeded on foot to the river's side.
The bank was in that spot high and steep, so that they were obliged todescend by a narrow and winding path to reach the water, and when there,no boat was to be seen, and not a sound was heard but the gentle rippleof the tide upon the shore, or the sudden splash of some finnyinhabitant of the stream, as it leapt up from its limpid home. Joze deTavora, after waiting impatiently for some minutes, gave a low whistle;the silence still continued unbroken,--he again gave a second and thirdsignal, when it was answered, at a short distance from where they stood,and a boat shot from behind a little promontory which jutted out intothe river. The crew, on seeing two persons, seemed in some doubtwhether they ought to approach, but the young Tavora again signalisingto them, they pulled in without hesitation.
"Why were you not waiting at this spot, as I ordered you?" he asked.
"We came here first, senhor," answered one of the two men in the boat;"but we saw two or three persons on the shore, who seemed watching us,so we pulled round beneath yonder point, where we could be out ofsight."
"You did well, though they were, probably, but chance idlers. Come,Luis, we will embark," he added, stepping into the boat, followed by hiscompanion. "Now, my men, bend to your oars!" he said, taking the helm,and guiding the bark down the stream.
It was a lovely night, though so late in the year: the air was soft andbalmy, the water smooth as a polished mirror, reflecting the bright andglittering stars which shone from the deep blue sky. The scene and hourhad a soothing effect on the spirits of Luis, as he leaned back in theboat, and gave himself up to their calm influence. Now and then theywould pass through a shoal of fish, sporting on the surface, theirbright scales shining in the light of some lustrous star. Far off, too,the song of the fisherman would rise in the still air, as he salliedforth to his night of toil; and in the distance might be seen the sailsof the larger fishing-boats, as they slowly glided up with the current,or the canvas of some vessel looming large through the obscurity, likesome giant phantom of the deep. Not a word was exchanged for some way;and at length, when Joze de Tavora broke the silence, by addressing hisfriend, their conversation was carried on in low whispers, which couldscarcely have been heard by the men who rowed the boat. After rowingabout two miles, at a sufficient distance from the shore to be unnoticedfrom thence, the boat's head was directed again towards it, at a spotwhere the shattered remains of some building could be seen risingagainst the sky. Luis demanded of his companion whither they were nowgoing.
"To yonder ruins," he said, "of a summer residence of the good monks ofthe convent of San Bento. It was once a lovely spot, but the seadestroyed the grounds, and the earthquake shattered the walls, thoughthere are still some chambers which escaped total destruction."
He had got thus far in his description, when the boat ran alongside theremains of a quay and jetty, from whence the friars used to embark ontheir fishing expeditions, or when they chose the water as a means ofconveyance to the city. Stepping on shore with Luis, he ordered the mento wait their return, and led the way towards the ruins, which were atsome little distance from the landing-place. They proceeded among heapsof walls overthrown, shattered pillars, formed to support the gracefulvines which overshadowed the long cool walks, and fragments of brokenstatues, which had ornamented the sides of the tanks, once stocked withfish; but the flood had uprooted the vines, and carried away theaqueducts which supplied the tanks. Passing beneath an archway, onceforming the entrance to the convent, and winding through severalpassages open to the sky above, they arrived at a small door, throughthe chinks of which a light streamed forth. The young Tavora knockedthree times without hesitation, at the same time mentioning his name,and begging to be admitted.
"You will find more persons here than you expect," he said to Luis,during the time which elapsed before the door was opened; "and many whomyou will be surprised to meet in this place; but they are all friends ofmy family, who have come hither to listen to the exhortations of a holyand pious man, who has resided here for some time past, concealed fromthe persecutions of those who hate him for his virtue and zeal forreligion."
"I thought we had come hither to see your brother," answered Luis. "Ifthere are strangers here, whom I may not wish to meet, I will waitoutside in the garden till they have departed, or till he can come tomeet me."
"There are none you can object to meet," eagerly responded Joze deTavora. "See, the door opens. Come, you must enter, or our friendswill be disappointed, and look upon you in the light of an enemy." And,taking the arm of Luis, he led him forward a few steps through theportal, when the door was suddenly closed behind them.
"Your blessing, Father," said Joze de Tavora, to a tall figure, in theblack habit of the order of Loyola, who stood before them, holding alamp in his hand.
"You have it, my son," answered the deep-toned voice of the JesuitMalagrida. "And blessed are all they who follow my counsels! Who isyour companion?" he added, in a different tone. "I recollect not hisface among the millions I have known."
Joze de Tavora explained who Luis was, and that he had brought him tosee his brother.
"My blessing on his head, if he joins our righteous cause!" exclaimedMalagrida.
While this conversation was taking place, Luis looked round the chamberin which he so unexpectedly found himself. It was low and vaulted, theroof being supported by rough stone pillars, and had, apparently, formeda capacious cellar to the not over-abstemious brethren of San Bento.Some rude attempts had been made to convert it into both an habitationand a chapel, it would seem; for great was the surprise of Luis toobserve, at the further end, a rough altar, on which lights were burningbefore a figure of the Virgin, and a number of people seated on b
encheson each side of it; others, standing about in knots, and conversing,their glittering swords and rich dresses forming a strange contrast tothe ruined and sombre appearance of the chamber. He had just finishedthis slight survey, when one of them, rising and advancing towards him,he perceived the young Marquis of Tavora. The latter, giving him anembrace, exclaimed, "I am, indeed, grateful for the favour you do me bycoming here, though prepared for it by a message my brother sent me; andI must rejoice that there is another partisan added to the cause ofhonour and the privileges of the nobles."
"I certainty, when I promised your brother that I would visit you, didnot expect to find you in so strange a place as this, and with so manycompanions," returned Luis.
"As for my abode, it is one selected by