Chapter 10

Ye fair! Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts! Dare not the infectious sigh; nor in the bower Where woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch, While evening draws her crimson curtain round, Trust your soft minutes with betraying man.

_Thomson._

In the most retired part of Monteblanco's garden, reclining on a rustic seat, under the fragrant canopy of the myrtle and arbutus, sat a female form enveloped in a loosely flowing dress of virgin whiteness. The air was cool and serene, and except the rustling of the surrounding foliage, when agitated by the breeze, or the soft plaintive voice of the nightingale, no obtrusive sound disturbed the solemn silence. The blue vault of heaven, glittering with countless stars, the rich perfume flung around by the orange flower and jasmine, and a stilly languor that pervaded the spot, all disposed the mind to gentle and loving thoughts.

Theodora, however, sat absorbed in silent sorrow and abstraction: her long clustering tresses fell in luxuriance over her white and polished neck, almost concealing in their profusion the traits of a countenance overcast with grief and despondency.

But a figure appears on the garden wall, and the sound as of some one falling is heard on the soft turf. Theodora starts, yet a sudden recollection seems to check her momentary fear. The nocturnal visitor was Gomez Arias, who had received a hasty summons from Theodora, and surmising that some unpleasant intelligence awaited him, he hurried in breathless expectation to the place of appointment.

What was his amazement, upon his arrival!--He beheld his Theodora, not in the joyful eagerness of affection springing forward to meet his embrace, but silent and dejected. Her intelligent countenance no longer beamed with that charming smile which his appearance never failed to create. Motionless and unmoved she appeared, amongst the flowery shrubs and verdant foliage of the garden, like some statue of chaste and classical beauty, placed to embellish and diversify the sylvan spot.

Gomez Arias is before her, and yet she seems hardly conscious of his presence. He gazes on her with surprise, and then gently whispers her dear name. The well known voice recalls her scattered ideas, and its magic sound awakens her benumbed sensations to fresh warmth and life. She raised her head, threw aside the rich clusters of her hair, and a stream of moonlight falling on her countenance revealed to Gomez Arias a picture of sorrowing love.

Her eye was swollen with grief, and the big tears in quick succession chased each other down her pallid cheek.

Don Lope approached her tenderly, and folding her in his arms, endeavoured to calm her emotion, by the most soothing and endearing expressions.

"Theodora, what means this sorrow? Whatever be the misfortune which threatens us, do not vainly yield yourself a prey to terror, before you know the means I may have of averting it." Then, as if struck by a passing thought, he added--"You surely cannot entertain a distant doubt of the singleness--the devotedness of my affection?"

"Doubt of your affection! Oh, heavens! do not even mention the appalling word; there is something more terrible than death in the very idea. No, no," she continued, with vivid earnestness; "I do not; I cannot; I will not doubt of your affection. If ever such agonizing----"

She could not proceed, for her imagination was so powerfully acted upon, even with the remote image of such a misfortune, that she was obliged to remain some time silent before she could control her emotions.

"No," she resumed; "I cannot doubt your affection. But there is another calamity in store for me that will assuredly render wretched the rest of my existence."

She again stopped, and her tears flowed more abundantly than ever.

Gomez Arias felt relieved from a heavy foreboding; for the idea that his engagement with Leonor de Aguilar had come to the knowledge of Theodora, had at first filled his mind with apprehensions. He was accordingly more at ease, feeling an inward conviction that however distressing the dreaded intelligence might prove, he should still find resources within himself to avert its dangers.

"Speak, my Theodora; unfold the cause of your extraordinary sorrow, and do not weep and tremble thus."

"Oh, Lope!" she despondingly cried, "I must renounce you for ever."

"For heaven's sake, calm this agitation, Theodora, and let me know the worst. But yesterday you were as happy as a heart teeming with genuine affection, and blessed with a most unbounded return, can make a mortal, and now----"

"He is come," she fearfully interrupted him; "my destined husband is come."

Gomez Arias appeared staggered at this unexpected information, but immediately recovering himself in apparent calmness, demanded the name of his rival. "Who is it," he cried, "that boldly claims the hand of my Theodora?--No doubt some noble and distinguished cavalier."

"Alas! your supposition is but too just," replied the weeping girl; "and it is that circumstance which adds to the poignancy of my grief: were he a less estimable character, were he divested of those amiable qualities that render man dear to the eyes of woman, my reasons for refusing his addresses would be unanswerable. In that case, if I were made a victim to parental authority, some consolation might be found in the conviction that the inextinguishable hatred which I bore him was grounded on justice. But the man that seeks an alliance with our house is one whose choice would confer the greatest honor on the most exalted of the land. Brave, generous, of noble birth, and alike distinguished for the superiority of his mind and person, he is in the highest favor with the queen, who has intrusted him with the command of one of the divisions which are now marching against the rebel Moors."

Theodora made these observations in the perfect simplicity of her heart, but she unconsciously excited an idea of the most galling nature in the mind of her lover. Not that he felt the pangs of jealousy, for he was too confident both in his own merit, and the unparalleled affection of his beloved; but yet he was inwardly mortified at the encomiums bestowed on another, inasmuch as they gave rise to a comparison which he could not easily brook. He, therefore, with some asperity of tone, inquired the name of this accomplished knight; and Theodora, who perceived the inward workings of his soul, with a faultering voice pronounced the name of Don Antonio de Leyva. The sound operated like an electric shock on the mind of Gomez Arias, and despite of his habitual self-command, signs of uncommon perturbation were discernible in his countenance.

"What!" he cried, "Don Antonio de Leyva,--that presumptuous, that detested youth!"

Here he checked his emotion; pride resumed the mastery over his irritated feelings, and with a forced gaiety of manner, he continued,--

"Certainly Don Antonio is a gallant cavalier, and well calculated to captivate a woman's affections."

He stopped; for his surprise had been too abrupt, and his manner too ill disguised to continue long in this constrained suppression of his real feelings. Gomez Arias hated Don Antonio on no other plea, than the fame he was daily acquiring for his valour and brilliant qualities. Besides, he could not forget his adventure in the tournament, when Don Antonio crossed him in his career, and well nigh endangered the reputation he had that day acquired. He looked on him, therefore, as a dangerous rival, and felt chagrined at the command with which the queen had invested him, as it would afford him opportunities of grounding his claims to her royal favor on the firmest foundation.

Theodora was far from suspecting the cause of her lover's agitation. She naturally attributed to a feeling of jealousy, what was in fact the effect of restless emulation. A long pause ensued, during which the state of Theodora became more distressing, as she perceived her lover's countenance gradually assuming an unusual expression of sternness. Various passions seemed to be contending for mastery in his bosom, but the feeling of wounded pride soon appeared to predominate. His eyes glistened with indignant fire, his lip curled with a bitter smile, and the flush of anger mantled on his brow.

"Theodora!" he said, fixing earnestly his eyes on the trembling girl; "Theodora, you have deceived me!"

"Deceive you, Gomez Arias!" She looked petrified at the bare supposition. "Deceived you! And can you for a moment harbour such a cruel, such a degrading suspicion? Oh! Lope, is it possible you can think thus basely of your Theodora?"

"Why was not I made acquainted with this engagement before?"

"I was ignorant of it myself; the marriage had been settled between my father and Don Antonio, without consulting my inclination. Alas! the first intelligence I received, was to bid me prepare for the ceremony, which is to take place immediately.--My dearest Lope," she added with tenderness; "Oh! never again harrow up my feelings, with doubts unworthy of our mutual passion."

She clung to Don Lope's neck, and pressing him with the earnestness of unbounded confidence and love--"Never," she continued, "had Theodora a single thought concealed from you; you, the absolute master of my heart, and the most secret wishes of my soul."

Then in a more composed manner, she proceeded; "It was but this morning that Don Antonio arrived, when my father immediately proceeded to announce the purport of his visit. My amazement at first knew no bounds; I remonstrated on the abruptness of the proposal, and endeavoured, by gentle expostulation, to ward off the threatening blow. But my entreaties, and my tears were in vain. My father, strenuously bent on the accomplishment of his wishes, left me the only option of yielding implicit obedience to his mandates, or passing the rest of my existence in the solitary gloom of a convent. My choice is made; I lose you, Lope;"--and here her anguish almost overpowered her utterance; "I lose you for ever, but your dear image shall be constantly before me in those dark abodes of penitence and woe. Thither must I go, and leave all these dear scenes, and the dearer sight of you, consigned to unrelenting misery. Not humbly, alas! to pray; not to abjure the world; for ah! I cannot abjure that world which contains the fondest object that links me to life. I go not in the humble mood of a repentant sinner, to weep over a guilty life, but in the desponding resolution of a fond woman, eager to keep her faith unbroken to him of her heart's first and only attachment. For you, oh Lope, my tears will flow; you alone will be the theme of my constant meditations--my fervent prayers. In my hopeless solitude, I may perhaps feel one glimpse of consolation;--the idea that you may be happy, and that even in the glittering scenes of ambition, you will sometimes revert to the cheerless abode of Theodora. This will afford me some solace in my affliction. And when the hand of death releases me from my odious chains, your tears will tenderly fall on the grave of her, whose greatest crime was that of loving you too well."

"Theodora!" exclaimed Gomez Arias, moved by the picture she had drawn; "and is this then the only remedy you can devise?"

"What!" cried she eagerly, "is there any other to be found?"

She paused, and gazed on Gomez Arias, with anxious expectation, breathless with hope.

Don Lope, after a momentary lapse, with a chilling coldness, observed--"You do not love me, Theodora!"

"Oh Heavens!" she cried in the hurried accents of terror--"Never, Lope, never utter those killing words;--what do you require of me?--Speak, Gomez Arias, speak: I will do all, to convince you of the sincerity of my affection, and the cruel injustice of your words."

"You must fly then from the abode of parental oppression," calmly replied Don Lope; "and in your lover you shall find that tenderness, which a father denies; nay, start not, these words may perhaps alarm you, yet consider it is our only resource, and that imperious necessity is a law to which we must all submit. In a short time you shall be mine in the face of heaven, and now, you must resolve to follow me."

Theodora started at the proposition. She fixed her eyes on Gomez Arias, and with a deep but tranquil anguish exclaimed--"Alas, Don Lope! Is this the remedy you propose? Can you indeed tempt me to abandon my father in his declining years, to regret and shame?"

"You had already determined to abandon him," observed Gomez Arias.

"No, Lope," she replied; "by that step, I should only disappoint him in his expectations--not incur his merited hatred and malediction;--his grief would be tempered by resignation, not corroded with the sting of shame." "Don Lope," she then continued with dignity, "command my life; but oh! never, never require of me the commission of a crime, as the proof of my love."

"Stay, Theodora," interrupted Gomez Arias, with a composure that ill agreed with the terrific cloud gathering on his brow; "stay, you are right, and I must retract my words: the offer was dictated in the transports of sincere and ardent love, and as the only means left us in the hour of danger. But I perceive that I have mistaken your sentiments; such actions were only made for souls capable of feeling and appreciating the extent of a true passion; not for cold and timorous beings like yourself. I flattered my fond pride, that in you I had met with a miracle of deep and all-absorbing affection, but I am deceived, and sorely shall I repent my delusion; I now see you in your true colours; you are like the rest of your feeble sex, pleased with the gratification of their vanity, but incapable of a bold and generous resolution in favor of the man they pretend to love. I will not upbraid you; but from this moment cast you from me as a piece of inanimate clay, a painted thing, alike incapable of estimating and sharing my regard."

Saying this he rudely disengaged himself from her arms, whilst the unfortunate Theodora, affrighted at the violence of his manner, fixed on him a wild and vacant stare, the intensity of her grief depriving her of the power of reflection. But when she saw her lover actually receding from the place, her mind started from its abstraction, and her thoughts were fixed upon the dreadful desertion that now threatened her. She gave a frantic shriek, and fell lifeless on the ground.

Alarmed at the effect produced by his passionate and cruel proceeding, Gomez Arias hurried back to the spot, and raising the lovely victim from the ground, gazed on her with all the anxiety of returning affection. Theodora was in his arms, but, alas! her beautiful eyes were closed, her cheek was colourless, and a cold suffusion bathed her stiffened limbs. The vital spark had apparently deserted its frail tenement, for no sign of conscious life was there. Don Lope's angry feelings had given way to his fears for her safety, and as he wiped the cold dew from her face, he perceived blood trickling slowly down her marble brow. In the violence of her fall upon the gravelled walk, a flint had wounded her forehead, and the crimson drops that issued from it contrasted mournfully with the frozen paleness of her countenance.

Gomez Arias was moved as he gazed intensely on the angelic creature now before him. This was no artful fiction, no solemn mockery of woe: a few words had worked that dreadful revolution in her mind. Perhaps there is at times an indescribable cruelty in love that prompts a man, in a certain degree, to enjoy the misery which is wrought by an excess of affection towards him, and triumph now mingled with compassion in the abandoned lover's heart. He was, however, soon called to more generous sentiments. Anxiety and regret took place of vanity, while his passion for Theodora acquired new intensity as he scanned her beauteous figure and contemplated the distress he had occasioned. With the most endearing efforts he endeavoured to reanimate the lifeless form of Theodora. He ardently pressed the yielding burthen to his heart, placed his glowing cheek by the cold one of his mistress, fervently kissed the crimson stain upon her forehead, and then bound it with a scarf.

Theodora, however, for some time gave no sign of life. Don Lope called her by the most tender names, sprinkled her face with the water of a neighbouring fountain, and exhausted himself in efforts to revive her. At last she gently opened her eyes, a scarce perceptible motion shook her frame, and shortly after she raised her white fingers to her forehead, as if conscious of sensation. She heaved a deep sigh, and Gomez Arias watching with anxious gaze the progress of her reviving senses, strove with soothing fondness to hasten their return. Her eyes gently opened, and a sad smile played upon her lip, as she acknowledged the tender solicitude of her lover, unable as yet to express herself by words.

"Theodora, my dearest, don't you know me?"

Her abstracted senses awoke as if from a horrid dream, and with fearful and convulsive clasp she hung to Don Lope's neck.

"He is not gone--no, no, I have him here--" The rest of her sentence was lost in a hysteric laugh.

"No, my love," tenderly said Gomez Arias, "I am not gone, nor ever will. I am a barbarian to treat you thus. I do not merit such excellence as thine, and, I crave thy forgiveness for the misery I have inflicted."

Theodora, now perfectly restored, saw the stain of blood on her lover's lip, then she felt the bandage on her forehead, and when Gomez Arias explained the nature of her wound, the fond girl rejoiced at a cause that had called forth her lover's anxiety and caresses.

They remained in profound silence, which they were both afraid to break, for they trembled to renew a subject which had produced such melancholy effects.

But time was swiftly flying, and Gomez Arias again urged the necessity of adopting some resolution.

"Theodora," he said, "the night is wearing fast away, her friendly shade will but for a short time longer favor us, and the morning must, alas! throw still darker shadows over our brightest hopes."

Theodora sighed deeply, but was unable to reply.

"What is to be done?" demanded Don Lope. "Is it your wish that we should part for ever?"

"Part for ever!" cried Theodora; "Oh Heavens! the idea is more than I can endure."

"There is no other alternative left us," said Gomez Arias, "unless you feel yourself courageous enough to--" and here he cast an inquiring glance, and waited her reply; for though the purport of his meaning was obvious, he felt almost afraid to convey it by language.

Theodora's distress increased, and her fond arms that had till now encircled her lover's neck, loosened their hold, whilst her head drooped despondingly upon her bosom.

After a short pause--"My love," continued Gomez Arias, "you must decide, and instantly, we have but a short time more to remain."

"Don Lope," exclaimed the afflicted girl, with impassioned eagerness, "pity! oh pity my horrible situation, and do not tempt me with a crime, to which my own fond woman's heart urges me but too strongly. No, do not exert that uncontrollable power which you possess over my very soul, to sink me deeper into the abyss of misery, that must embitter my future existence. Do not force me to destroy the tranquillity and comfort of a venerable parent--of that parent, whose greatest fault is his excessive fondness and solicitude for his child. Though by his last determination he has completed my misery, he is nevertheless more deserving of pity than reproach. Alas! while he destroys my felicity and repose, he cherishes the idea, that he is laying the foundation of the future happiness of his child."

"Yes!" cried Gomez Arias, smiling bitterly, "by forcing her to waste her life in a cloister."

"No," exclaimed Theodora, "he does not suppose me capable of such a terrible resolution; he is ignorant that my affections are irretrievably bestowed on another, fondly imagining that I shall not long be insensible to the merits of the husband he has chosen."

She fell on the ground, and clasping the knees of her lover, proceeded with redoubled emotion--"Oh, Lope, I know but too well my own weakness! Take, therefore, compassion on my distress, urge me no further, and do not avail yourself of the tenderness and self-devotion of one who adores you, to render her a cruel and delinquent daughter."

Gomez Arias was powerfully struck with the earnestness of her manner; he never imagined he should meet with such opposition from a heart so enthusiastically devoted. He could not but admire the generosity and nobleness of feeling which thus voluntarily condemned itself to a life of solitude and despair, rather than deviate in the smallest degree from moral rectitude. Yet he was inwardly mortified at her superiority, and would fain have persuaded himself that her scruples proceeded rather from a deficiency of passion than from a sense of honor and filial duty. He looked on her with a mixture of compassion and disappointment as he endeavoured to raise her from the ground.

"No, never," she cried, "never will I rise till you grant my request."

"Rise, rise, Theodora," said he gloomily, "and listen to me for the last time.--Since it is your desire, I will no longer, press a sacrifice I was naturally bound to expect from your repeated, and apparently sincere, protestations of regard. Since you will have it so, I must yield. I will begone immediately; but if you are to be for ever lost to me, think not I will tamely submit to my wrongs. I will seek out the cause of our misfortunes, and if he is the valiant knight report speaks him, I shall then find the only solace left me in my desolation, that of taking ample vengeance or falling nobly by his weapon. And now," he added after a short pause, "farewell Theodora! Farewell, for we part for ever!"

"No, you cannot," franticly cried Theodora, "you must not leave me thus. Oh Lope! you were always tender, and generous, and kind.--Never did you in the slightest manner wound my heart till this dreadful night."

"True," replied Don Lope, "and never till the present moment could I doubt your love."

"Oh Lope! Lope! and is it to your Theodora you speak thus! In pity recall those dreadful words."

"Silly girl," vehemently exclaimed Gomez Arias, "what do you require of me? Or what is it that you wish? You have chosen your path, let me now take mine, unless you force me in my anguish to curse the hour when I first beheld you."

"Curse the day you saw me!" As she uttered this exclamation an involuntary chill crept over her, which seemed to have frozen the springs of her heart.

"Theodora," he now said in a tone of sad reproach, "dry your tears--you will soon have bitter occasion for them. May you enjoy that repose which you have for ever destroyed in my heart--Farewell! Farewell!"

As he said this he gently strove to disengage himself from her hold. The struggle was too powerful for her nature, and like the poor bird when under the magic influence of the serpent, yields itself to the destructive charm, Theodora, unable any longer to combat with her overpowering feelings, threw herself into her lover's arms, and exclaimed passionately upon his bosom--"No, no, dear Lope, we will not part. Let it be as you will." She paused, and then added with solemnity--"It is decreed that I must be wretched, but you at least shall never have reason to reproach me."

Gomez Arias clasped her fondly to his breast, and in the transports of his joy, endeavoured to draw a glowing picture of their future happiness.

"My dearest Theodora, hush your apprehensions and unreasonable fears. At the first opportunity we marry. Your father will at last relent, and even if he should prove deaf to the appeal of nature, the love and gratitude of Gomez Arias will supply the loss."

"Oh that is my only consolation," she interrupted with eagerness. "Love me, Lope, love me even as I love you. No, no, that is not possible. But, oh, if thy love should ever decrease--deceive me! in pity deceive me! Do not let me suspect the dreadful truth--No, let death first conceal from me so terrible a secret."

Gomez Arias again tenderly essayed to calm her agitation, and then urged the necessity of quitting the place with the utmost expedition. She made no longer any resistance, for she had advanced too far now to recede, and leaning on her lover she was almost carried along the garden.

Gomez Arias quickly made a signal, and a ladder of ropes was thrown from the other side. At the sight Theodora could scarcely restrain the agony of her feelings. A crowd of thoughts distracted her mind--a load of anguish was upon her breast, and had it not been for the support of her lover, she would have fallen. Gomez Arias bore the trembling girl across the wall, but as she stood for an instant on the summit, she cast a long melancholy look on the home of her innocence and childhood--the now deserted abode, of a venerable parent, and with a heart throbbing with anguish, she intrusted herself to the protection of her lover.