CHAPTER VII.

LEGEND OF THE FAIRY'S BRIDGE.

"_My companions said to me, 'Do you visit her monument?' but I answered, 'Where but in my heart should she have a tomb?'_" ARABIC ELEGY.

You must know, Don Carlos, commenced the worthy Padre, "_con voz reposada y clara_"[101]--You must know, that the bridge you have just visited has usurped the name it bears, which was given to a much more extraordinary structure--if such it may be called--that formerly occupied its place; or, I should rather say, that was situated near the present edifice; for the supernatural bridge of which I am about to speak was thrown across the ravine somewhat lower down the stream; where, as you may have observed, the cliff on the left bank falls quite perpendicularly along the river, and is at this day entirely overgrown with ivy.

This bridge was formed of a single tree; a huge _acebuche_[102]--a tree often employed as an agent in working miracles--which, having grown for ages on the brink of the precipice, was one night marvellously felled to the earth. That it had been prostrated by supernatural means was evident; for the trunk bore no marks of the axe; and though still adhering to the stump by the bark and some slight fibres, yet it had been most curiously blackened and charred; whilst a wild vine, which (having entwined itself gracefully round its wide-spreading branches) had accompanied it in his fall, remained unscorched, and seemed to have been purposely left unhurt, to serve as a hand-rope to steady the footsteps of the venturous passenger over the tremulous bridge.

The further extremity of the tree rested on a ledge that projected slightly from the opposite cliff; above which, a fissure in the rock appeared to lead into a dark cavern. But so curiously was the rustic bridge balanced, that as sure as any mortal attempted to cross by it to the opposite side of the river, so sure was he to be precipitated into the abyss below.

It is supposed that this chink in the cliff had served to admit light and air to some spacious caverns which, in remote times, had been formed in the rocks, and from which a rude staircase had communicated with a _quinta_, or country house, situated in the midst of the vineyards and olive grounds that clothe the hill side. But of these, Don Carlos, no vestige now remains; indeed all traces of them were lost soon after the occurrence of the events I am about to relate.

The last possessor of this villa was a wealthy Moor--Abenhabuz by name--of the tribe of the Ganzules, and one of the most distinguished _Alfaquies_ of the proud city of Ronda. To the treachery of this Moor the capture of the Moslem stronghold by the Catholic kings[103] was mainly attributed; for the bravery of its _Alcaide_, the strength of its garrison, and the triple circuit of walls by which in those days its assailable points were defended, rendered it too formidable a post even for such indomitable spirits as Ferdinand and Isabella to think of attacking. But Hamet Zeli, surnamed _El Zegri_, the fierce governor of Ronda, dreamed not of treason, and least of all did he suppose that Abenhabuz, his bosom friend, could betray him. But what will not envy stoop to do? He was persuaded by his deceitful confidant that the Spaniards were laying close siege to Malaga, and that a most favourable opportunity thereby was presented for making a foray in their country. Sallying forth, therefore, with his brave _Gomeles_--the principal strength of the garrison--El Zegri crossed the mountains to the westward of the city, and fell upon the unprotected country round Arcos and Xeres de la Frontera.

Ferdinand and Isabella were quickly informed of his departure from Ronda, and, breaking up their camp before Malaga without loss of time, pressed forward through the rugged and now unguarded defiles of El Burgo, to seize upon their prey.

El Zegri, loaded with plunder, and breathing further vengeance, bent his steps also towards his sequestered fortress; little, however, anticipating the blow that awaited him. It was only at his bivouac in the dark cork forest under the lofty _Sierra del Pinar_ that the thunder of the Castillian artillery burst upon his astounded ear.--He mounted his courser in all haste, and, dashing forward with mad speed, stopped not until he had gained the pass of _Montejaque_. You see it there, Don Carlos, (said the Padre, pointing to a deep gap in the summit of the serrated ridge that bounds the basin of Ronda to the west) it is still known in the country as _El Puerto del Pasmo del Moro_.[104]--What a sight there met his eager, searching eye! The proud city entrusted to his care, hemmed in on all sides by Christian lances!--the sumptuous mosques and stately palaces of his ancestors, crumbling to dust, under the all-destroying projectiles of the implacable enemies of his creed!--A cry of rage burst from him; but his prudence even in that trying moment did not forsake him. Checking his advancing troops, so as to keep them out of sight of the beleaguering army, he sent forward a trusty messenger, who, gaining admission to the Fortress, cheered its feeble garrison with the news of his being at hand, and of his intention to force his way into the city during the night. But Abenhabuz took care to have this information conveyed to the besiegers; and El Zegris' bold attempt was consequently foiled.

The inhabitants, seeing all hope of relief now cut off, their store of provisions nearly exhausted, and large gaps formed in the walls of their until-now unconquered city, deemed it prudent to negotiate for a capitulation; and the sagacious Ferdinand, aware that El Zegri was still in the field--that the place could yet hold out some weeks--that his own supplies might be cut off,--and that to carry the city by storm would be attended with immense loss of life,--willingly granted most favourable terms; the garrison and inhabitants were permitted to depart with all their effects; such of them as chose to remain in Spain having even lands assigned to them, and being permitted the free exercise of their religion.

But whilst the wily Ferdinand hesitated not to grant these liberal terms, yet, as in duty bound, he forthwith transmitted to Rome a formal declaration of his resolve to extirpate the abominable heresy of Mohammed from his dominions, whenever a fitting opportunity should occur; thus piously reserving to himself the right of infringing the terms of capitulation, wherever his doing so should seem most conducive to the interests of our holy religion.

The traitor Abenhabuz, besides the indulgences granted by the terms of the surrender, was, as the price of his treason, permitted to reside within the city, and to retain possession of his estates. But some years after, (when, by the capture of Granada, the Catholic Monarchs were relieved from all apprehension of evil consequences ensuing from carrying their long meditated plans into effect) he, as well as the other Moslems who had chosen to remain in Spain, was offered the alternative of Christianity or expatriation. He balanced not in the choice; but forthwith repairing to the altar of Our Lady of griefs, declared himself a convert to the true faith.

In consequence of this act--with the piety and generosity which have at all times distinguished the Spanish nation above all others--the Moor was graciously allowed to keep possession of the lovely _quinta_ and its surrounding vineyards; the rest of his vast estates being made over--for the good of his soul--as an expiatory offering to the chivalric brotherhood of Santiago.

Abenhabuz retired to his country retreat, accompanied only by his daughter, the beauteous Hinzára; for his sons--true scions of an Arabic stock--chose rather to seek a home on the parched shores of Africa, than abandon the accursed dogmas of their Prophet.

Hinzára was the youngest of the Moor's children, and the sole issue of a Christian maiden who had been captured in a foray some time previous to the fall of Ronda, and who--meditating his future treason--Abenhabuz had considered it conducive to his interest to marry.

At the period of his expulsion from the city, his wife had been dead some time, and his daughter had just reached the age when a maiden's footsteps most require the guidance of a mother's care. But Hinzára was a being of no common order. The rosebud bursting through the petals of its mossy calyx, spreading its delicious fragrance to the summer breeze, exceeds not more in loveliness every other flower of the field, than the beauty of Hinzára surpassed that of all the maidens of the neighbourhood. To you, Don Carlos, whose eyes are daily feasted on the charms of our comely Andalusians, it will suffice to say, that in the daughter of Abenhabuz were combined the regular features and soft expression of the dark-eyed _Malagueña_; the blooming cheek and polished brow of the fair _Serrana_[105] of Casarabonela; and the form and carriage of the graceful _Gaditana_![106] Her person, in fact, was a bouquet, of the choicest flowers culled from this our Hesperian garden; whilst her mind might be likened to a book, in which, as in the pages of our incomparable Cervantes, were to be found united the most brilliant wit, the soundest discretion, the purest sentiment, and the nicest judgment.

Courted by all the principal chieftains of the day--Spaniards as well as Moriscoes--Hinzára appeared alike regardless of their adulation, and unmoved by their importunity. But the Moorish maiden was not insensible, and--unknown to all besides--had pledged her hand to a noble Biscayian youth, long the possessor of her guileless heart.

The ancestors of Don Ramiro--for such was her lover's appellation--though rich in deeds of renown, had left him little else than an untarnished sword, to support the glorious names of Segastibelza y Bigorre which he inherited from them. And besides his poverty, Hinzára had other reasons (which will be stated as I proceed with my tale) to fear that her father's consent to their union would not be easily obtained.

Abenhabuz was, to all appearance, fully sensible of the generosity that had been so manifestly shown to him; and though now the possessor of but the few vineyards and olive grounds that encircled his _quinta_, he was nevertheless generally considered a wealthy man:--a reputation for which he was as much indebted to his imagined knowledge of Alchymy, as for the hords he was supposed to have collected during a long life of rapine and plunder.

This character for wealth, whilst it excited the cupidity of many, secured to him the protection of the governor of Ronda, Don Guiterre Mondejar; who, captivated by the charms of the beauteous Hinzára, hoped, together with her hand, to obtain, what he coveted yet more, the imaginary treasures of the Alchymist.

The crafty Moor readily promised him the immediate possession of the one, and the inheritance of the other; but he had no intention of fulfilling his engagements. The protection of a powerful friend was needful for a time, to screen his proceedings from a too-vigilant observation; particularly, since the establishment of the Holy Inquisition by Ferdinand and Isabella of blessed memory (here the worthy Father crossed himself most devoutly) was a thorn in the side of these backsliding Christians that obliged them to be extremely circumspect; but the implacable Abenhabuz cherished hopes of wreaking vengeance on those by whom he chose to conceive he had been wronged; and the Spanish governor was one of his marked victims.

In the prosecution of his horrible designs, the Moor was prepared to immolate even his own daughter to satisfy his revenge; though this was an extremity to which he hoped not to be driven. It may, however, be readily imagined that his stock of parental affection was not very great, and that he concerned himself but little in his daughter's affairs. He enjoined her to be strict in the outward observance of her religious duties, the better to conceal his own delinquency; but of her actual conversion to Christianity, and her acquaintance with Don Ramiro, he was altogether ignorant.

For a considerable time, Abenhabuz succeeded, under various pretences, in deferring the fulfilment of his contract with Don Guiterre; but, at length, finding his projects of vengeance not yet ripe for execution, and that the amorous Spaniard was becoming every day more urgent for the possession of Hinzára, he determined to overcome the few weak qualms of conscience that had hitherto withheld him from sacrificing his daughter, and intimated to her that she was shortly to become the wife of the abhorred Guiterre. To his surprise, however--for it was for the first time in her life--Hinzára refused obedience to his will. Commands and entreaties were alike unavailing:--to the first she opposed a calm but resolute refusal; to the latter a flood of tears. But when the infuriated father employed threats, and assailed her with invectives,--"Hold!" exclaimed the daughter of the cross. "Though, in casting off the execrable heresy of Mohammed, I cast not off my Moslem father, yet in embracing this," and she drew from her bosom a small gold crucifix, "I obtained a Protector against all outrage; and should he at the cost of my plighted word,--my word, for the observance of which I have pledged my belief in a crucified redeemer--persist in exacting obedience to his will; amongst the Holy Sisterhood of Santa Ursula shall I seek, and readily find, a refuge from his tyranny."

The Infidel was thunderstruck--his rage unbounded. Scarcely admitting that a woman had a soul to be saved, he had thought it mattered little whether his daughter was a Mohammedan or a Christian; conceiving that, in either case, her duty to him prescribed passive obedience. But he had always imagined that Hinzára's abjuration of Islamism, like his own, was a mere mockery, and that he should find in her a willing instrument to work his purpose of taking vengeance on his Christian rulers. Awakened now to a sense of his error,--and as he considered of his danger--he feared that she might, on the contrary, prove an insuperable bar to the execution of his plans; and he determined to lose no time in removing her.

Dissimulation was, however, necessary. Smothering, therefore, his anger, he affected to be moved by her tears. He alluded no more to the marriage contract entered into with Don Guiterre; and, treating her with more than wonted kindness, lulled her into forgetfulness of his former harshness, whilst he matured the most hellish plot that ever was conceived by man, to render her subservient to his designs.

Informing the governor of Hinzára's determined opposition to their wishes, he imparted to him the diabolical scheme he contemplated to force her into compliance; and in the vile Spaniard he unfortunately found a too willing abettor of his infamous project.

The cavern under the Moor's habitation contained numerous chambers opening into each other, the innermost of which was known only to Abenhabuz himself; the entrance being concealed by tapestry, and closed by means of secret springs. On the plea of having some repairs executed to the quinta, Hinzára and her father retired to the subterranean apartments; Abenhabuz occupying that which communicated with the staircase, Hinzára the one from which the secret chamber opened; the intermediate chamber serving as their common refectory.

One afternoon, as the sun was closing his diurnal course, an officer of the Holy Inquisition, accompanied by numerous Aquazils and masked attendants, appeared suddenly before the abode of the renegade Moor. The terrified domestics fell on their knees, repeating their _Pater nosters_, too much alarmed to give notice of the approach of the visiters; and the officer, followed by his satellites, proceeded straight to the entrance of the Souterrain, and demanded instant admission.

"Who is he," inquired Abenhabuz from within, "that thus unannounced requires entry? If his business be of worldly affairs, let him choose some more fitting time, nor disturb a good Christian at his evening devotions; but, if aught else, enter--the latch is now raised." The party immediately rushed forward, but the superior stopped short at the scene before him--Abenhabuz, clothed in sackcloth, stretched prostrate on the bare floor before an image of the blessed Virgin! Beside him lay a scourge, with which he had evidently been inflicting self-punishment!

"What want ye of me?" demanded the Moor, without rising from the rocky floor.--"With _you_ we have _now_ no further business, good Abenhabuz," replied the officer. "We must however see your daughter--for such is our duty--though doubtless she follows the example of her pious father."--"Hinzára," said the Moor, "is within that second chamber," pointing to the door--then raising his voice, he called out in Spanish--"Hinzára, my child, open, that these worthy Señores may bear witness to the piety of Abenhabuz' daughter;" but Hinzára answered not.

"What is this?" exclaimed the Moor--"the heat of the summer sun has surely overcome her.--Hinzára, my beloved, open quickly"--but still Hinzára replied not.

"Force open the door, then," said the officer, "but quietly--disturb not her sleep, if such be the cause of her silence. Excuse this apparent rudeness, worthy _Alfaqui_; our orders are imperative."

Admittance was quickly gained, and disclosed to the spectators the lovely form of Hinzára, extended on a divan, her eyes closed in profound sleep. Her right arm, passed across her gently heaving bosom, hung over the side of the couch, and on the floor beneath it lay a book, which to all appearance had fallen from it.--That book was the _Koran_!

The exclamations of the astonished spectators, but, above all, the wailings of old Abenhabuz, soon brought the sleeper to her senses. But not to detain you, Don Carlos, with superfluous details: suffice it to say, that further search was made; the secret doorway was discovered, and exposed to view a small apartment furnished with the _Mehrab_,[107] denoting it to be a Mohammedan place of worship.

No one of the assembled group was, or rather appeared to be, so much shocked as Abenhabuz.--"Father! Father!" exclaimed the frantic Hinzára in tones of the most piercing anguish:--but, overcome by the intensity of her emotion, she could utter no more, and fell senseless to the ground.

Happy had it been for the wretched Hinzára had this insensibility to mundane ills been the perpetual sleep of death! But inscrutable, my friend, are the ways of Providence! The innocent victim of this fiendish plot woke only to the torments of the Inquisition!--Oh that an institution, ordained to effect so much good, should in this instance have been the means of inflicting such unmerited anguish! But what human works are all perfect?

I must not attempt, Don Carlos, to raise the veil that covered the events which followed. The disappearance of Hinzára, whose virtues yet more than her beauty caused her to be universally beloved, excited much solicitude. But time swept on; and at length all, save _one_, seemed to have forgotten the existence of the ill-fated maiden. That _one_, however, persisted in his endeavours to trace her out; and, dangerous as was the attempt, to penetrate even the secrets of the Holy Inquisition. But all his efforts were unavailing.

Still, however, Ramiro clung to the idea that she had not been removed from Ronda; and despising the alluring prospects of wealth and distinction, at that time held out by the discovery of a new world, he remained rooted to the spot. At length his sad presentiment was but too truly realized. A mysteriously-worded billet, left by an unknown hand, warned him of approaching calamity; shortly after, public notice was given that an execution of heretics was about to take place; and on the appointed day, headmost of the wretched criminals, and clothed in a dress of surge, representing flames and demons,--indicative of her impending fate,--was the hapless daughter of Abenhabuz.

The frantic Ramiro soon distinguished her from the rest. The pile that was to immolate his lovely, innocent Hinzára was already lighted--the criminals destined for execution were about to be given over to the secular power--when, rushing to the feet of the Grand Inquisitor, the proud descendant of the bluest blood in Spain, on his bent knees, supplicated for mercy. With the eloquence of despair, he pleaded her youth, her virtues, her piety;--but, alas! he pleaded in vain!--"Let me at least," said he at length, "make one effort to induce her to confess?--my known loyalty--my birth--my station--entitle me to this boon."

The Inquisitor was moved;--Ramiro's entreaties were seconded by a faint murmur that ran through the crowd; and his request was granted, despite the frowns of Don Guiterre, into whose hands, as governor of the city, the condemned were about to pass.

A passage was quickly opened for Ramiro through the dense multitude, and, amidst loud _vivas_, he flew to his Hinzára. The maiden's countenance brightened at the approach of her long separated lover. Starting from the posture of prayer, in which she was devoutly attending to the exhortations of one of the holy brotherhood appointed to the sad office of attending her in her last moments--yet not without first raising her eyes in gratitude to the great disposer of all things--"Thanks, beloved Ramiro," said she, "for this last, convincing proof of affection! I almost fear, however, to ask--didst thou receive my message?"--"I did," replied her lover; "but let me implore thee, adored Hinzára, to change thy purpose--alas! beloved of my soul, hope not that thy silence will aught avail thy father. Be assured his fate is sealed--nay--I know not but that he may already have been sacrificed; for, during many weeks past, I have in vain sought to gain tidings of him.--Declare then all thou knowest, and at least save thyself, and me--who cannot survive thy loss--from the fate that hangs over us."----"No, Ramiro," replied the maiden, in slow but steady accents, "my resolve is fixed. Since there is yet a _chance_ of saving my father, _we_ must part--let us hope to meet again hereafter.--I trust thou hast been able to comply with my desire?"--He motioned assent.--"Then Heaven bless thee, dearest Ramiro! as thou lovest me, obey my last injunctions--return not evil for evil--there is another and a better world--risk not our chance of possessing in it the happiness denied to us here."

One moment of human weakness succeeded--it was but one--Hinzára's head fell upon her lover's breast--her bloodless lips met his for the first--the last time. Recovering herself quickly, "Now, beloved," she exclaimed, "thy promise!--and thou, oh blessed Saviour, before whose holy image I now, on bended knees, offer up my last supplication!--who seest the pile already laid to torment with infamous publicity thy too weak servant!--plead, oh plead forgiveness for this act, which hastens me, by but a few short moments, into the presence of an omnipotent, all-merciful creator!"

Ramiro listened to the words of the prostrate maiden with intense and agonised attention, and at the conclusion of her short but earnest prayer drew from his breast a glittering poignard--Hinzára snatched it hastily from his hand,--and the next moment fell a corpse at his feet!

The horror of the spectators, at this unlooked-for termination of Ramiro's interference--the consternation of the officials of the Holy Inquisition--the rage and invectives of the Governor--were such that, amidst the general confusion which ensued, Ramiro, snatching the poignard from the reeking body of his mistress, darted through the crowd, and effected his escape.--Don Guiterre vented his impotent rage on the lifeless body of his victim, by having it burnt, amidst the groans and indignant cries of the assembled multitude.

Every attempt to trace the flight of Don Ramiro failed; but information was eventually received, that an individual answering his description had embarked at Malaga, in a vessel bound to some Italian port.

The excitement caused by this tragic affair gradually subsided. Years rolled on--Abenhabuz was never again seen--and the fate of his daughter was nearly forgotten;--when one morning the Governor of Ronda was no where to be found. Diligent search was of course made, and at length his corpse was discovered in the rocky bed of the Guadiaro, immediately beneath the miraculous bridge, which was now seen for the first time!--On examining the body, it was found to be much bruised and mutilated, as if--which indeed was evident--Don Guiterre had fallen in an attempt to cross the hazardous bridge, and although one deep wound seemed to have been inflicted by some sharp instrument, yet it might have been given by the pointed rocks with which the bed of the rivulet is strewed, and there was no other reason to suppose that he had fallen by the hands of bandits; since nothing had been taken from his person. His sword was found lying near him, but it might have dropt from its scabbard.

The cause of the Governor's visit to this secluded spot nobody could divine; but the general astonishment on this head was still further increased, when, a few days after, the body of a near relative of Don Guiterre--one of the principal officers of the Holy Inquisition--was discovered at the very same spot, and bearing marks of having met with a similar death.

A clue to the solution of these mysterious and appalling events was at length, however, obtained; though it still left many of the particulars open to conjecture. An old and faithful servant of the late Governor was, not many days after, found in the bed of the stream, having also, as it appeared, fallen from the enchanted bridge. Life, however, was not extinct. He was conveyed to a neighbouring monastery, where every attention was paid to his wounds, though without the slightest hope of his ultimate recovery. The excessive pain, caused by a severe wound in the head, brought on delirium; so that little information could be gathered from him; but in his paroxysms he raved of a brilliant light that shone constantly before his eyes, which, with piercing cries for mercy, intermixed with frightful imprecations on Don Guiterre, he fervently invoked.--But in the last moments of his wretched existence, he became somewhat more tranquil; and the monk who attended him, (a brother of one of my distant ancestors) collected at intervals the following particulars of his melancholy story.

His master it appeared had willingly entered into the plot--already alluded to--projected by the old Moor. The inquisitorial visit, planned by these two fiends in human form, was brought about by information secretly furnished to the Holy Tribunal, by the wretched maniac himself. Their _professed_ object in procuring Hinzára's incarceration was, to frighten her into a marriage with Don Guiterre, whose influence over the Inquisitor, his relative, was to be employed in procuring her liberation, on condition that she gave proof of her innocence by consenting to marry him.--Each of these miscreants imagined, however, that he was making a dupe of his confederate; for each breathed only vengeance on the innocent Hinzára. Don Guiterre could not forgive her contemptuous rejection of his suit; and, his ungovernable passion continuing unabated, he hoped, by acceding to the terms on which only it was proposed, she should obtain her liberation,--to have her in his power to satisfy his revenge, after he had gratified his yet more hateful passion: or, should she, contrary to his expectations, continue obdurate, to feast his eyes on the tortures of his hapless victim. Abenhabuz, on the other hand, knew his daughter too well to imagine she would consent to purchase life on the terms proposed. His sole object was to procure her death,--which, as he conceived, was merited as much by her disobedience to his commands, as by the unpardonable sin of deserting the faith of her forefathers;--and, as he himself could not inflict the punishment without exciting suspicion, he hit upon the plan of making Don Guiterre a tool to effect his purpose. But, in the words of the Roman Fabulist, "_Vindictæ cupidus sibi malum accersit_." Each of these monsters reaped the just fruit of his crime.

Whether the terms of liberation before alluded to were ever proposed to the daughter of Abenhabuz, I cannot inform you, Don Carlos:--most probably not, however.--Don Guiterre doubtless overrated his influence with the Holy Tribunal,--the vast powers and inaccessible character of which were at that early period of its establishment not known even to Spaniards themselves. At all events, the governor, finding that the doom of his victim was irrevocably fixed, and--ignorant of the secret wishes of the Moor--fearing that the full weight of Abenhabuz's resentment would fall upon him on the discovery of the failure of their scheme,--resolved, ere the _Auto da fé_ was announced to take place, to prevent the possibility of the Moor's attempting to save his daughter, by confessing the plot, and making known the share he--Guiterre--had taken in it.

The wretch, who, in his dying moments, confessed these atrocities, was an accomplice in the crime by which this object was attained.--The foul deed committed, the corpse of Abenhabuz was destroyed by quick lime, and his papers were minutely examined, lest any proof should be furnished by them of the plot against Hinzára. Letters were then found from the sons of the murdered Moor, (who it appeared had joined the discontented inhabitants of the Alpujarras, at that time about to take up arms against the government,) which brought to light a project on the eve of being carried into execution, to seize upon the city of Ronda. These, after being made up in a sealed parcel, were dropt, by the governor's faithful agent, on the road to Marbella, and, being picked up by a chance traveller, were brought to Don Guiterre.

The importance of their contents caused them of course to be forwarded to the seat of government, accompanied by a statement, that diligent but unavailing search having been made for Abenhabuz, it was supposed he had escaped to the mountains, and must, in the hurry of his flight, have lost these papers, containing indubitable proofs of his treason.

The policy of keeping these events secret was suggested by the artful Guiterre, on the plea, that it might lead to the detection of other persons engaged in the conspiracy; which recommendation, having been approved of, it soon came to be believed that the missing Abenhabuz was, as well as his daughter, an inmate of the dungeon of the Inquisition.

By what means Don Guiterre met with his death still remained a matter of mystery.--By his servant's statement it appeared that he had fallen in an attempt to pass over the rustic bridge, leading to the cavern under the _quinta_ of the deceased Moor; whither by an anonymous communication he had been invited to repair unattended, under the promise of having the spot shown to him where the Alchymist's riches were buried.--The wretched Lopez, who had followed his master at a distance, saw a bright light shining to point out the passage made across the deep chasm, and heard his cries on falling; but, overcome by fear, he immediately took to flight, and for obvious reasons had not given any information on the subject.

Whatever further particulars--if any--were gathered from him ere his death, never became public. Sufficient, however, was known to cause the spot to be held in great awe; so much so, indeed, that, after the miraculous abstraction of various goats, sheep, &c., from the flocks grazing in the neighbourhood, not a soul would venture near it; the common opinion being, that some vindictive fairy had taken up his abode in the cavern, and amused himself by playing off his malicious pranks upon mankind.

After a lapse of some years, a Hermit applied to the owner of the property, for permission to make the haunted cavern his cell; and, trusting that his prayers would be instrumental in laying the troublesome Sprite, his request was readily granted.

The holy man who thus proffered his good offices, though bent down and infirm, had not the eye of one stricken in years; neither did his flowing beard, though white as the undrifted snow on the surrounding mountain tops, appear to have been blanched so much by time, as by privations and sufferings. He went out but seldom, and then only to attend upon the sick and poor. Within the city walls he was never known to enter. He had travelled much--had made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and visited the Holy house at Loreto--was known to carry on a correspondence with some of the first dignitaries of the Pontifical City,--and never wanted money.

By his piety, munificence, and benevolence, Father Anselmo at length attained such celebrity throughout the country, that his prayers were considered nearly as efficacious as those of most saints.--He sunk gradually and quietly to his grave. Not having been seen for several days, those to whose wants he was in the daily habit of administering consulted together as to the steps to be taken to ascertain his fate. They determined to enter his cell, and, as he would never permit a soul to cross the bridge, procured a long ladder to enable them to effect their purpose. On gaining admission, they discovered Anselmo's body, stiffened unto death, in the attitude of prayer. His knees were bent before an Altar, on which stood a small gold crucifix, of exquisite workmanship; but his head had fallen forwards on his clasped hands.--By his side lay a poignard. Its point was corroded with the deep rust of years; but every other part of the shining blade bore evidence of the peculiar care which has been taken of its preservation. Its hilt was a glittering mass of costly diamonds.

From the deceased hermit's neck a small packet was suspended, containing a lock of auburn hair, and on the envelope, the following words were written, in Anselmo's hand. "For thee have I passed a life of celibacy and seclusion!--for disobeying thy sacred injunctions have I been sorely chastened!--Sainted Virgin! plead for me with our Heavenly Father, that the sins I have committed in this world may be forgiven in that which is to come!"

It was evident,--said the worthy Padre, concluding his long story,--it was evident, Don Carlos, that his prayer could be addressed to no other than the Holy Virgin, Mother of our blessed Saviour,--and, consequently, that the lock of hair must have been her's. It was accordingly sent to Toledo, and deposited in the church of _San Juan de los Reyes_,--where a magnificent urn--now probably melted down into some atheistical French Marshal's soup tureen--enclosed for many years the precious relic. What became of the poignard I know not.

The pious Anselmo was buried with great pomp, and numberless miracles have been wrought at his grave;--the mischievous fairy feared to return to a place purified by so holy a person;--the passage leading to the subterranean apartments has long been filled up;--and the miraculous bridge decayed and was carried away by the stream.

We have put up a cross to scare away evil spirits; but they nevertheless say, that strange noises are yet heard, and flickering lights occasionally seen in the vicinity. I do not attach much credit to such tales. "_Fallax vulgi judicium_," (the good Father loved a scrap of Latin) and--producing from his pocket a white cambric handkerchief, and wiping his forehead with it, as if to show he had some notion of the use to which the cavern was at the present day applied, he added--"I dare say you are equally sceptical."--I will now, Don Carlos, wish you a pleasant _Siesta_--"_Dios guard' usted._"[108]