Devereux — Complete

  CHAPTER XI.

  CONTAINING MORE THAN ANY OTHER CHAPTER IN THE SECOND BOOK OF THISHISTORY.

  MY first proposal was to remove the patient, with all due care andgentleness, to a better lodging, and a district more convenient for thevisits of the most eminent physicians. When I expressed this wish toIsora, she looked at me long and wistfully, and then burst into tears."_You_ will not deceive us," said she, "and I accept your kindness atonce,--from _him_ I rejected the same offer."

  "Him?--of whom speak you?--this Barnard, or rather--but I know him!" Astartling expression passed over Isora's speaking face.

  "Know him!" she cried, interrupting me, "you do not,--you cannot!"

  "Take courage, dearest Isora,--if I may so dare to call you,--takecourage: it is fearful to have a rival in that quarter; but I amprepared for it. This Barnard, tell me again, do you love him?"

  "Love--O God, no!"

  "What then? do you still fear him?--fear him, too, protected by theunsleeping eye and the vigilant hand of a love like mine?"

  "Yes!" she said falteringly, "I fear for _you_!"

  "Me!" I cried, laughing scornfully, "me! nay, dearest, there breathesnot that man whom you need fear on _my_ account. But, answer me; isnot--"

  "For Heaven's sake, for mercy's sake!" cried Isora, eagerly, "do notquestion me; I may not tell you who, or what this man is; I am bound, bya most solemn oath, never to divulge that secret."

  "I care not," said I, calmly, "I want no confirmation of my knowledge:this masked rival is my own brother!"

  I fixed my eyes full on Isora while I said this, and she quailed beneathmy gaze: her cheek, her lips, were utterly without colour, and anexpression of sickening and keen anguish was graven upon her face. Shemade no answer.

  "Yes!" resumed I, bitterly, "it is my brother,--be it so,--I amprepared; but if you can, Isora, say one word to deny it."

  Isora's tongue seemed literally to cleave to her mouth; at last with aviolent effort, she muttered, "I have told you, Morton, that I am boundby oath not to divulge this secret; nor may I breathe a single syllablecalculated to do so,--if I deny one name, you may question me onmore,--and, therefore, to deny one is a breach of my oath. But, beware!"she added vehemently, "oh! beware how your suspicions--mere vague,baseless suspicions--criminate a brother; and, above all, whomsoeveryou believe to be the real being under this disguised name, as you valueyour life, and therefore mine,--breathe not to him a syllable of yourbelief."

  I was so struck with the energy with which this was said, that, after ashort pause, I rejoined, in an altered tone,--

  "I cannot believe that I have aught against life to fear from abrother's hand; but I will promise you to guard against latent danger.But is your oath so peremptory that you cannot deny even one name?--ifnot, and you _can_ deny this, I swear to you that I will never questionyou upon another."

  Again a fierce convulsion wrung the lip and distorted the perfectfeatures of Isora. She remained silent for some moments, and thenmurmured, "My oath forbids me even that single answer: tempt me no more;now, and forever, I am mute upon this subject."

  Perhaps some slight and momentary anger, or doubt, or suspicion,betrayed itself upon my countenance; for Isora, after looking upon melong and mournfully, said, in a quiet but melancholy tone, "I see yourthoughts, and I do not reproach you for them--it is natural that youshould think ill of one whom this mystery surrounds,--one too placedunder such circumstances of humiliation and distrust. I have livedlong in your country: I have seen, for the last few months, much of itsinhabitants; I have studied too the works which profess to unfold itsnational and peculiar character: I know that you have a distrust ofthe people of other climates; I know that you are cautious and full ofsuspicious vigilance, even in your commerce with each other; I know, too[and Isora's heart swelled visibly as she spoke], that poverty itself,in the eyes of your commercial countrymen, is a crime, and that theyrarely feel confidence or place faith in those who are unhappy;--why,Count Devereux, why should I require more of you than of the rest ofyour nation? Why should you think better of the penniless and friendlessgirl, the degraded exile, the victim of doubt,--which is so often thedisguise of guilt,--than any other, any one even among my own people,would think of one so mercilessly deprived of all the decent andappropriate barriers by which a maiden should be surrounded? No--no:leave me as you found me; leave my poor father where you see him; anyplace will do for us to die in."

  "Isora!" I said, clasping her in my arms, "you do not know me yet: hadI found you in prosperity, and in the world's honour; had I wooed youin your father's halls, and girt around with the friends and kinsmen ofyour race,--I might have pressed for more than you will now tell me; Imight have indulged suspicion where I perceived mystery, and I might nothave loved as I love you now! Now, Isora, in misfortune, in destitution,I place without reserve my whole heart--its trust, its zeal, itsdevotion--in your keeping; come evil or good, storm or sunshine, I amyours, wholly and forever. Reject me if you will, I will return to youagain; and never, never--save from my own eyes or your own lips--will Ireceive a single evidence detracting from your purity, or, Isora,--mineown, own Isora,--may I not add also--from your love?"

  "Too, too generous!" murmured Isora, struggling passionately with hertears, "may Heaven forsake me if ever I am ungrateful to thee; andbelieve--believe, that if love more fond, more true, more devoted thanwoman ever felt before can repay you, you shall be repaid!"

  Why, at that moment, did my heart leap so joyously within me?--why did Isay inly,--"The treasure I have so long yearned for is found at last:we have met, and through the waste of years, we will work together, andnever part again"? Why, at that moment of bliss, did I not rather feela foretaste of the coming woe? Oh, blind and capricious Fate, that givesus a presentiment at one while and withholds it at an other! Knowledge,and Prudence, and calculating Foresight, what are ye?--warnings untoothers, not ourselves. Reason is a lamp which sheddeth afar a gloriousand general light, but leaveth all that is around it in darkness and ingloom. We foresee and foretell the destiny of others: we march credulousand benighted to our own; and like Laocoon, from the very altarsby which we stand as the soothsayer and the priest, creep forth,unsuspected and undreamt of, the serpents which are fated to destroy us!

  That very day, then, Alvarez was removed to a lodging more worthy of hisbirth, and more calculated to afford hope of his recovery. He bore theremoval without any evident signs of fatigue; but his dreadful maladyhad taken away both speech and sense, and he was already more than halfthe property of the grave. I sent, however, for the best medical advicewhich London could afford. They met, prescribed, and left the patientjust as they found him. I know not, in the progress of science, whatphysicians may be to posterity, but in my time they are false witnessessubpoenaed against death, whose testimony always tells less in favour ofthe plaintiff than the defendant.

  Before we left the poor Spaniard's former lodging, and when I was on thepoint of giving some instructions to the landlady respecting the placeto which the few articles of property belonging to Don Diego and Isorawere to be moved, Isora made me a sign to be silent, which I obeyed."Pardon me," said she afterwards; "but I confess that I am anxiousour next residence should not be known,--should not be subject to theintrusion of--of this--"

  "Barnard, as you call him. I understand you; be it so!" and accordinglyI enjoined the goods to be sent to my own house, whence they wereremoved to Don Diego's new abode and I took especial care to leave withthe good lady no clew to discover Alvarez and his daughter, otherwisethan _through me_. The pleasure afforded me of directing Gerald'sattention to myself, I could not resist. "Tell Mr. Barnard, when hecalls," said I, "that only through Count Morton Devereux will he hear ofDon Diego d'Alvarez and the lady his daughter."

  "I will, your honour," said the landlady; and then looking at me moreattentively, she added: "Bless me! now when you speak, there is a verystrong likeness between yourself and Mr. Barnard."

  I recoiled as if an adder had stung me, and hurried into
the coach tosupport the patient, who was already placed there.

  Now then my daily post was by the bed of disease and suffering: in thechamber of death was my vow of love ratified; and in sadness and insorrow was it returned. But it is in such scenes that the deepest, themost endearing, and the most holy species of the passion is engendered.As I heard Isora's low voice tremble with the suspense of one whowatches over the hourly severing of the affection of Nature and ofearly years; and as I saw her light step flit by the pillow which shesmoothed, and her cheek alternately flush and fade, in watchingthe wants which she relieved; as I marked her mute, her unwearyingtenderness, breaking into a thousand nameless but mighty cares, andpervading like an angel's vigilance every--yea, the minutest--courseinto which it flowed,--did I not behold her in that sphere in whichwoman is most lovely, and in which love itself consecrates itsadmiration and purifies its most ardent desires? That was not a time forour hearts to speak audibly to each other; but we felt that they grewcloser and closer, and we asked not for the poor eloquence of words. Butover this scene let me not linger.

  One morning, as I was proceeding on foot to Isora's, I perceived onthe opposite side of the way Montreuil and Gerald: they were conversingeagerly; they both saw me. Montreuil made a slight, quiet, and dignifiedinclination of the head: Gerald coloured, and hesitated. I thought hewas about to leave his companion and address me; but, with a haughty andsevere air, I passed on, and Gerald, as if stung by my demeanour, bithis lip vehemently and followed my example. A few minutes afterwards Ifelt an inclination to regret that I had not afforded him an opportunityof addressing me. "I might," thought I, "have then taunted him with hispersecution of Isora, and defied him to execute those threats againstme, in which it is evident, from her apprehensions for my safety, thathe indulged."

  I had not, however, much leisure for these thoughts. When I arrived atthe lodgings of Alvarez, I found that a great change had taken placein his condition; he had recovered speech, though imperfectly, andtestified a return to sense. I flew upstairs with a light step tocongratulate Isora: she met me at the door. "Hush!" she whispered:"my father sleeps!" But she did not speak with the animation I hadanticipated.

  "What is the matter, dearest?" said I, following her into anotherapartment: "you seem sad, and your eyes are red with tears, which arenot, methinks, entirely the tears of joy at this happy change in yourfather."

  "I am marked out for suffering," returned Isora, more keenly than shewas wont to speak. I pressed her to explain her meaning; she hesitatedat first, but at length confessed that her father had always beenanxious for her marriage with this _soi-disant_ Barnard, and that hisfirst words on his recovery had been to press her to consent to hiswishes.

  "My poor father," said she, weepingly, "speaks and thinks only for myfancied good; but his senses as yet are only recovered in part, and hecannot even understand me when I speak of you. 'I shall die,' hesaid, 'I shall die, and you will be left on the wide world!' I in vainendeavoured to explain to him that I should have a protector: he fellasleep muttering those words, and with tears in his eyes."

  "Does he know as much of this Barnard as you do?" said I.

  "Heavens, no!--or he would never have pressed me to marry one sowicked."

  "Does he know even who he is?"

  "Yes!" said Isora, after a pause; "but he has not known it long."

  Here the physician joined us, and taking me aside, informed me that, ashe had foreboded, sleep had been the harbinger of death, and that DonDiego was no more. I broke the news as gently as I could to Isora:but her grief was far more violent than I could have anticipated; andnothing seemed to cut her so deeply to the heart as the thought that hislast wish had been one with which she had not complied, and could nevercomply.

  I pass over the first days of mourning: I come to the one after DonDiego's funeral. I had been with Isora in the morning; I left her for afew hours, and returned at the first dusk of evening with some booksand music, which I vainly hoped she might recur to for a momentaryabstraction from her grief. I dismissed my carriage, with the intentionof walking home, and addressing the woman-servant who admitted me,inquired, as was my wont, after Isora. "She has been very ill," repliedthe woman, "ever since the strange gentleman left her."

  "The strange gentleman?"

  Yes, he had forced his way upstairs, despite of the denial the servanthad been ordered to give to all strangers. He had entered Isora's room;and the woman, in answer to my urgent inquiries, added that she hadheard his voice raised to a loud and harsh key in the apartment; hehad stayed there about a quarter of an hour, and had then hurried out,seemingly in great disorder and agitation.

  "What description of man was he?" I asked.

  The woman answered that he was mantled from head to foot in his cloak,which was richly laced, and his hat was looped with diamonds, butslouched over that part of his face which the collar of his cloak didnot hide, so that she could not further describe him than as one of ahaughty and abrupt bearing, and evidently belonging to the higher ranks.

  Convinced that Gerald had been the intruder, I hastened up the stairs toIsora. She received me with a sickly and faint smile, and endeavoured toconceal the traces of her tears.

  "So!" said I, "this insolent persecutor of yours has discovered yourabode, and again insulted or intimidated you. He shall do so no more! Iwill seek him to-morrow; and no affinity of blood shall prevent--"

  "Morton, dear Morton!" cried Isora, in great alarm, and yet with acertain determination stamped upon her features, "hear me! It is truethis man has been here; it is true that, fearful and terrible as he is,he has agitated and alarmed me: but it was only for you, Morton,--by theHoly Virgin, it was only for you! 'The moment,' said he, and his voiceran shiveringly through my heart like a dagger, 'the moment MortonDevereux discovers who is his rival, that moment his death-warrant isirrevocably sealed!'"

  "Arrogant boaster!" I cried, and my blood burned with the intenserage which a much slighter cause would have kindled from the naturalfierceness of my temper. "Does he think my life is at his bidding, toallow or to withhold? Unhand me, Isora, unhand me! I tell you I willseek him this moment, and dare him to do his worst!"

  "Do so," said Isora, calmly, and releasing her hold; "do so; but hearme first: the moment you breathe to him your suspicions you place aneternal barrier betwixt yourself and me! Pledge me your faith that youwill never, while I live at least, reveal to him--to any one whom yoususpect--your reproach, your defiance, your knowledge--nay, not evenyour lightest suspicion--of his identity with my persecutor; promiseme this, Morton Devereux, or I, in my turn, before that crucifix,whose sanctity we both acknowledge and adore,--that crucifix whichhas descended to my race for three unbroken centuries,--which, for mydeparted father, in the solemn vow, and in the death-agony, has stillbeen a witness, a consolation, and a pledge, between the soul and itsCreator,--by that crucifix which my dying mother clasped to her bosomwhen she committed me, an infant, to the care of that Heaven which hearsand records forever our lightest word,--I swear that I will never beyours!"

  "Isora!" said I, awed and startled, yet struggling against theimpression her energy had made upon me, "you know not to what you pledgeyourself, nor what you require of me. If I do not seek out this man,if I do not expose to him my knowledge of his pursuit and unhallowedpersecution of you, if I do not effectually prohibit and prevent theircontinuance, think well, what security have I for your future peace ofmind,--nay, even for the safety of your honour or your life? A man thusbold, daring and unbaffled in his pursuit, thus vigilant and skilful inhis selection of time and occasion,--so that, despite my constant andanxious endeavour to meet him in your presence, I have never been ableto do so,--from a man, I say, thus pertinacious in resolution, thuscrafty in disguise, what may you not dread when you leave him utterlyfearless by the license of impunity? Think too, again, Isora, that themystery dishonours as much as the danger menaces. Is it meet that mybetrothed and my future bride should be subjected to these secret andterrible visitations,--visitations
of a man professing himself herlover, and evincing the vehemence of his passion by that of his pursuit?Isora--Isora--you have not weighed these things; you know not what youdemand of me."

  "I do!" answered Isora; "I do know all that I demand of you; I demand ofyou only to preserve your life."

  "How," said I, impatiently, "cannot my hand preserve my life? and is itfor you, the daughter of a line of warriors, to ask your lover and yourhusband to shrink from a single foe?"

  "No, Morton," answered Isora. "Were you going to battle, I would girdon your sword myself; were, too, this man other than he is, and you wereabout to meet him in open contest, I would not wrong you, nor degradeyour betrothed, by a fear. But I know my persecutor well,--fierce,unrelenting,--dreadful in his dark and ungovernable passions as he is,he has not the courage to confront you: I fear not the open foe, butthe lurking and sure assassin. His very earnestness to avoid you, theprecautions he has taken, are alone sufficient to convince you that hedreads personally to oppose your claim or to vindicate himself."

  "Then what have I to fear?"

  "Everything! Do you not know that from men, at once fierce, crafty, andshrinking from bold violence, the stuff for assassins is always made?And if I wanted surer proof of his designs than inference, his oath--itrings in my ears now--is sufficient. 'The moment Morton Devereuxdiscovers who is his rival, that moment his death-warrant is irrevocablysealed.' Morton, I demand your promise; or, though my heart break, Iwill record my own vow."

  "Stay--stay," I said, in anger, and in sorrow: "were I to promise this,and for my own safety hazard yours, what could you deem me?"

  "Fear not for me, Morton," answered Isora; "you have no cause. I tellyou that this man, villain as he is, ever leaves me humbled and abased.Do not think that in all times, and all scenes, I am the foolish andweak creature you behold me now. Remember that you said rightly I wasthe daughter of a line of warriors; and I have that within me which willnot shame my descent."

  "But, dearest, your resolution may avail you for a time; but it cannotforever baffle the hardened nature of a man. I know my own sex, and Iknow my own ferocity, were it once aroused."

  "But, Morton, you do not know me," said Isora, proudly, and her face, asshe spoke, was set, and even stern: "I am only the coward when I thinkof you; a word--a look of mine--can abash this man; or, if it could not,I am never without a weapon to defend myself, or--or--" Isora's voice,before firm and collected, now faltered, and a deep blush flowed overthe marble paleness of her face.

  "Or what?" said I, anxiously.

  "Or thee, Morton!" murmured Isora, tenderly, and withdrawing her eyesfrom mine.

  The tone, the look that accompanied these words, melted me at once. Irose,--I clasped Isora to my heart.

  "You are a strange compound, my own fairy queen; but these lips, thischeek, those eyes, are not fit features for a heroine."

  "Morton, if I had less determination in my heart, I could not love youso well."

  "But tell me," I whispered, with a smile, "where is this weapon on whichyou rely so strongly?"

  "Here!" answered Isora, blushingly; and, extricating herself fromme, she showed me a small two-edged dagger, which she wore carefullyconcealed between the folds of her dress. I looked over the bright, keenblade, with surprise, and yet with pleasure, at the latent resolution ofa character seemingly so soft. I say with pleasure, for it suited wellwith my own fierce and wild temper. I returned the weapon to her, with asmile and a jest.

  "Ah!" said Isora, shrinking from my kiss, "I should not have been sobold, if I only feared danger for myself."

  But if, for a moment, we forgot, in the gushings of our affection, theobject of our converse and dispute, we soon returned to it again.Isora was the first to recur to it. She reminded me of the promise sherequired; and she spoke with a seriousness and a solemnity which I foundmyself scarcely able to resist.

  "But," I said, "if he ever molest you hereafter; if again I find thatbright cheek blanched, and those dear eyes dimmed with tears; and I knowthat, in my own house, some one has dared thus to insult its queen,--amI to be still torpid and inactive, lest a dastard and craven hand shouldavenge my assertion of your honour and mine?"

  "No, Morton; after our marriage, whenever that be, you will have nothingto apprehend from him on the same ground as before; my fear for you,too, will not be what it is now; your honour will be bound in mine, andnothing shall induce me to hazard it,--no, not even your safety. I haveevery reason to believe that, after that event, he will subject meno longer to his insults: how, indeed, can he, under your perpetualprotection? or, for what cause should he attempt it, if he could? Ishall be then yours,--only and ever yours; what hope could, therefore,then nerve his hardihood or instigate his intrusions? Trust to me atthat time, and suffer me to--nay, I repeat, promise me that I may--trustin you now!"

  What could I do? I still combated her wish and her request; but hersteadiness and rigidity of purpose made me, though reluctantly, yield tothem at last. So sincere, and so stern, indeed, appeared her resolution,that I feared, by refusal, that she would take the rash oath that wouldseparate us forever. Added to this, I felt in her that confidence which,I am apt to believe, is far more akin to the latter stages of real lovethan jealousy and mistrust; and I could not believe that either now, or,still less after our nuptials, she would risk aught of honour, or theseemings of honour, from a visionary and superstitious fear. In spite,therefore, of my deep and keen interest in the thorough discovery ofthis mysterious persecution; and, still more, in the prevention of allfuture designs from his audacity, I constrained myself to promise herthat I would on no account seek out the person I suspected, or wilfullybetray to him by word or deed my belief of his identity with Barnard.

  Though greatly dissatisfied with my self-compulsion, I strove toreconcile myself to its idea. Indeed, there was much in the peculiarcircumstances of Isora, much in the freshness of her present affliction,much in the unfriended and utter destitution of her situation, that,while on the one hand, it called forth her pride, and made stubborn thattemper which was naturally so gentle and so soft; on the other hand,made me yield even to wishes that I thought unreasonable, and considerrather the delicacy and deference due to her condition, than insistupon the sacrifices which, in more fortunate circumstances, I might haveimagined due to myself. Still more indisposed to resist her wish andexpose myself to its penalty was I, when I considered her desire wasthe mere excess and caution of her love, and when I felt that she spokesincerely when she declared that it was only for me that she was thecoward. Nevertheless, and despite all these considerations, it was witha secret discontent that I took my leave of her, and departed homeward.

  I had just reached the end of the street where the house was situated,when I saw there, very imperfectly, for the night was extremely dark,the figure of a man entirely enveloped in a long cloak, such as wascommonly worn by gallants in affairs of secrecy or intrigue; and, inthe pale light of a single lamp near which he stood, something like thebrilliance of gems glittered on the large Spanish hat which overhung hisbrow. I immediately recalled the description the woman had given me ofBarnard's dress, and the thought flashed across me that it was he whomI beheld. "At all events," thought I, "I may confirm my doubts, if Imay not communicate them, and I may watch over her safety if I may notavenge her injuries." I therefore took advantage of my knowledge of theneighbourhood, passed the stranger with a quick step, and then, runningrapidly, returned by a circuitous route to the mouth of a narrowand dark street, which was exactly opposite to Isora's house. Here Iconcealed myself by a projecting porch, and I had not waited long beforeI saw the dim form of the stranger walk slowly by the house. He passedit three or four times, and each time I thought--though the darknessmight deceive me--that he looked up to the windows. He made, however,no attempt at admission, and appeared as if he had no other object thanthat of watching by the house. Wearied and impatient at last, I camefrom my concealment. "I may _confirm_ my suspicions," I repeated,recurring to my oath, and I walked straight tow
ards the stranger.

  "Sir," I said very calmly, "I am the last person in the world tointerfere with the amusements of any other gentleman; but I humbly opinethat no man can parade by this house upon so very cold a night, withoutgiving just ground for suspicion to the friends of its inhabitants.I happen to be among that happy number; and I therefore, with all duehumility and respect, venture to request you to seek some other spot foryour nocturnal perambulations."

  I made this speech purposely prolix, in order to have time fully toreconnoitre the person of the one I addressed. The dusk of the night,and the loose garb of the stranger, certainly forbade any decidedsuccess to this scrutiny; but methought the figure seemed, despite ofmy prepossessions, to want the stately height and grand proportions ofGerald Devereux. I must own, however, that the necessary inexactitude ofmy survey rendered this idea without just foundation, and did not byany means diminish my firm impression that it was Gerald whom I beheld.While I spoke, he retreated with a quick step, but made no answer. Ipressed upon him: he backed with a still quicker step; and when I hadended, he fairly turned round, and made at full speed along the darkstreet in which I had fixed my previous post of watch. I fled afterhim, with a step as fleet as his own: his cloak encumbered his flight;I gained upon him sensibly; he turned a sharp corner, threw me out, andentered into a broad thoroughfare. As I sped after him, Bacchanalianvoices burst upon my ear, and presently a large band of those young menwho, under the name of Mohawks, were wont to scour the town nightly,and, sword in hand, to exercise their love of riot under the disguise ofparty zeal, became visible in the middle of the street. Through themmy fugitive dashed headlong, and, profiting by their surprise, escapedunmolested. I attempted to follow with equal speed, but was lesssuccessful. "Hallo!" cried the foremost of the group, placing himself inmy way.

  "No such haste! Art Whig or Tory? Under which king, Bezonian? speak ordie!"

  "Have a care, Sir," said I, fiercely, drawing my sword.

  "Treason, treason!" cried the speaker, confronting me with equalreadiness. "Have a care, indeed! have _at thee_."

  "Ha!" cried another, "'tis a Tory; 'tis the Secretary's popish friend,Devereux: pike him, pike him."

  I had already run my opponent through the sword arm, and was in hopesthat this act would intimidate the rest, and allow my escape; but atthe sound of my name and political bias, coupled with the drawn bloodof their confederate, the patriots rushed upon me with that amiable furygenerally characteristic of all true lovers of their country. Twoswords passed through my body simultaneously, and I fell bleeding andinsensible to the ground. When I recovered I was in my own apartments,whither two of the gentler Mohawks had conveyed me: the surgeons wereby my bedside; I groaned audibly when I saw them. If there is a thingin the world I hate, it is in any shape the disciples of Hermes; theyalways remind me of that Indian people (the Padaei, I think) mentionedby Herodotus, who sustained themselves by devouring the sick. "Allis well," said one, when my groan was heard. "He will not die," saidanother. "At least not till we have had more fees," said a third, morecandid than the rest. And thereupon they seized me and began torturingmy wounds anew, till I fainted away with the pain. However, the next dayI was declared out of immediate danger; and the first proof I gave of myconvalescence was to make Desmarais discharge four surgeons out of five:the remaining one I thought my youth and constitution might enable me toendure.

  That very evening, as I was turning restlessly in my bed, and mutteringwith parched lips the name of "Isora," I saw by my side a figure coveredfrom head to foot in a long veil, and a voice, low, soft, but thrillingthrough my heart like a new existence, murmured, "She is here!"

  I forgot my wounds; I forgot my pain and my debility; I sprang upwards:the stranger drew aside the veil from her countenance, and I beheldIsora!

  "Yes!" said she, in her own liquid and honeyed accents, which fell likebalm upon my wound and my spirit, "yes, she whom _you_ have hithertotended is come, in her turn, to render some slight but woman's servicesto you. She has come to nurse, and to soothe, and to pray for you, andto be, till you yourself discard her, your hand-maid and your slave!"

  I would have answered, but raising her finger to her lips, she aroseand vanished; but from that hour my wound healed, my fever slaked, andwhenever I beheld her flitting round my bed, or watching over me, orfelt her cool fingers wiping the dew from my brow, or took from her handmy medicine or my food, in those moments, the blood seemed to make anew struggle through my veins, and I felt palpably within me a fresh anddelicious life--a life full of youth and passion and hope--replace thevaguer and duller being which I had hitherto borne.

  There are some extraordinary incongruities in that very mysterious thing_sympathy_. One would imagine that, in a description of things mostgenerally interesting to all men, the most general interest would befound; nevertheless, I believe few persons would hang breathless overthe progressive history of a sick-bed. Yet those gradual stages fromdanger to recovery, how delightfully interesting they are to all whohave crawled from one to the other! and who, at some time or other inhis journey through that land of diseases--civilized life--has nottaken that gentle excursion? "I would be ill any day for the pleasureof getting well," said Fontenelle to me one morning with his usual_naivete_; but who would not be ill for the more pleasure of being ill,if he could be tended by her whom he most loves?

  I shall not therefore dwell upon that most delicious period of mylife,--my sick bed, and my recovery from it. I pass on to a certainevening in which I heard from Isora's lips the whole of her history,save what related to her knowledge of the real name of one whosepersecution constituted the little of romance which had yet mingled withher innocent and pure life. That evening--how well I remember it!--wewere alone; still weak and reduced, I lay upon the sofa beside thewindow, which was partially open, and the still air of an evening inthe first infancy of spring came fresh, and fraught as it were with aprediction of the glowing woods and the reviving verdure, to my cheek.The stars, one by one, kindled, as if born of Heaven and Twilight, intotheir nightly being; and, through the vapour and thick ether of thedense city, streamed their most silent light, holy and pure, andresembling that which the Divine Mercy sheds upon the gross nature ofmankind. But, shadowy and calm, their rays fell full upon the faceof Isora, as she lay on the ground beside my couch, and with one handsurrendered to my clasp, looked upward till, as she felt my gaze, sheturned her cheek blushingly away. There was quiet around and above us;but beneath the window we heard at times the sounds of the common earth,and then insensibly our hands knit into a closer clasp, and we felt themthrill more palpably to our hearts; for those sounds reminded us both ofour existence and of our separation from the great herd of our race!

  What is love but a division from the world, and a blending of two souls,two immortalities divested of clay and ashes, into one? it is a severingof a thousand ties from whatever is harsh and selfish, in order toknit them into a single and sacred bond! Who loves hath attained theanchorite's secret; and the hermitage has become dearer than the world.O respite from the toil and the curse of our social and banded state,a little interval art thou, suspended between two eternities,--the Pastand the Future,--a star that hovers between the morning and the night,sending through the vast abyss one solitary ray from heaven, but too farand faint to illumine, while it hallows the earth!

  There was nothing in Isora's tale which the reader has not alreadylearned or conjectured. She had left her Andalusian home in her earlychildhood, but she remembered it well, and lingeringly dwelt over it indescription. It was evident that little, in our colder and less genialisle, had attracted her sympathy, or wound itself into her affection.Nevertheless, I conceive that her naturally dreamy and abstractedcharacter had received from her residence and her trials here much ofthe vigour and the heroism which it now possessed. Brought up alone,music, and books--few, though not ill-chosen, for Shakspeare was one,and the one which had made upon her the most permanent impression, andperhaps had coloured her temperament with its latent but
rich hues ofpoetry--constituted her amusement and her studies.

  But who knows not that a woman's heart finds its fullest occupationwithin itself? There lies its real study, and within that narrow orbit,the mirror of enchanted thought reflects the whole range of earth.Loneliness and meditation nursed the mood which afterwards, with Isora,became love itself. But I do not wish now so much to describe hercharacter as to abridge her brief history. The first English stranger ofthe male sex whom her father admitted to her acquaintance was Barnard.This man was, as I had surmised, connected with him in certain politicalintrigues, the exact nature of which she did not know. I continue tocall him by a name which Isora acknowledged was fictitious. He had not,at first, by actual declaration, betrayed to her his affections: though,accompanied by a sort of fierceness which early revolted her, theysoon became visible. On the evening in which I had found her stretchedinsensible in the garden, and had myself made my first confession oflove, I learned that he had divulged to her his passion and real name;that her rejection had thrown him into a fierce despair; that he hadaccompanied his disclosure with the most terrible threats against me,for whom he supposed himself rejected, and against the safety of herfather, whom he said a word of his could betray; and her knowledgeof his power to injure us--_us_--yes, Isora then loved me, and thentrembled for my safety! had terrified and overcome her; and that in thevery moment in which my horse's hoofs were heard, and as the alternativeof her non-compliance, the rude suitor swore deadly and sore vengeanceagainst Alvarez and myself, she yielded to the oath he prescribed toher,--an oath that she would never reveal the secret he had betrayed toher, or suffer me to know who was my real rival.

  This was all that I could gather from her guarded confidence; he heardthe oath and vanished, and she felt no more till she was in my arms;then it was that she saw in the love and vengeance of my rival abarrier against our union; and then it was that her generous fear for meconquered her attachment, and she renounced me. Their departure fromthe cottage so shortly afterwards was at her father's choice and at theinstigation of Barnard, for the furtherance of their political projects;and it was from Barnard that the money came which repaid my loan toAlvarez. The same person, no doubt, poisoned her father against me,for henceforth Alvarez never spoke of me with that partiality he hadpreviously felt. They repaired to London: her father was often absent,and often engaged with men whom she had never seen before; he wasabsorbed and uncommunicative, and she was still ignorant of the natureof his schemings and designs.

  At length, after an absence of several weeks, Barnard reappeared, andhis visits became constant; he renewed his suit to her father as wellas herself. Then commenced that domestic persecution, so common in thisvery tyrannical world, which makes us sicken to bear, and which, hadIsora been wholly a Spanish girl, she, in all probability, would neverhave resisted: so much of custom is there in the very air of a climate.But she did resist it, partly because she loved me,--and loved memore and more for our separation,--and partly because she dreaded andabhorred the ferocious and malignant passions of my rival, far beyondany other misery with which fortune could threaten her. "Your fatherthen shall hang or starve!" said Barnard, one day in uncontrollablefrenzy, and left her. He did not appear again at the house. TheSpaniard's resources, fed, probably, alone by Barnard, failed. Fromhouse to house they removed, till they were reduced to that humble onein which I had found them. There, Barnard again sought them; there,backed by the powerful advocate of want, he again pressed his suit, andat that exact moment her father was struck with the numbing curse of hisdisease. "There and then," said Isora, candidly, "I might have yieldedat last, for my poor father's sake, if you had not saved me."

  Once only (I have before recorded the time) did Barnard visit her in thenew abode I had provided for her, and the day after our conversation onthat event Isora watched and watched for me, and I did not come. Fromthe woman of the house she at last learned the cause. "I forgot," shesaid timidly,--and in conclusion, "I forgot womanhood, and modesty, andreserve; I forgot the customs of your country, the decencies of myown; I forgot everything in this world, but you,--you suffering and indanger; my very sense of existence seemed to pass from me, and to besupplied by a breathless, confused, and overwhelming sense of impatientagony, which ceased not till I was in your chamber, and by your side!And--now, Morton, do not despise me for not having considered more, andloved you less."

  "Despise you!" I murmured, and I threw my arms around her, and drew herto my breast. I felt her heart beat against my own: those hearts spoke,though our lips were silent, and in their language seemed to say, "Weare united now, and we will not part."

  The starlight, shining with a mellow and deep stillness, was the onlylight by which we beheld each other: it shone, the witness and thesanction of that internal voice, which we owned, but heard not. Our lipsdrew closer and closer together, till they met! and in that kiss was thetype and promise of the after ritual which knit two spirits into one.Silence fell around us like a curtain, and the eternal Night, with herfresh dews and unclouded stars, looked alone upon the compact of ourhearts,--an emblem of the eternity, the freshness, and the unearthlythough awful brightness of the love which it hallowed and beheld!

  BOOK III.