There might have been seen, for a single moment,
while the eye of Don Velasquez was averted, a convulsive
quiver upon the lips of the woman. Her arms
somewhat sank in that moment, and were clasped together
with a spasmodic intensity; yet the action was
too gently performed—the movement quite too slight—
to fix the regards of the person whose glance she
chiefly feared. In that brief moment—in those

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slightly expressed emotions—it could be seen that
she felt her worst struggle was at hand. But it could
be seen, also, that she was possessed of wondrous faculties
for endurance. In what school she had acquired
this capacity, it needs not that we should ask—it is
enough that passion, too, has its power of self-restraint,
as well as virtue—and is never so intense, perhaps, as
when it is subjected, by its own will, to the check of
denial and delay. In the heart of the woman, this
power of self-restraint, once acquired, is perhaps far
more complete than in the heart of the man—if for
no other reason than that of her habitual subjection
to the will of a superior, and the habitual exercise
of a policy in society which is not necessary to him
by whom society is controlled or commanded.

The individual named Juan now made his appearance.
He was what is called, ordinarily, a handsome
youth; with smooth features, long, oily, and somewhat
curling locks, which evidently demanded much of his
attention—and a person which, though very slightly,
was yet very symmetrically made. But the intelligence
of his countenance was that of cunning rather
than of thought; and in his small gray eyes, there might
be seen a something of the malignant and catlike
expression which made so conspicuous a feature in
those of his uncle. He was showily habited, with a
gay cloak of silk, falling gracefully from his shoulders,
in addition to the ordinary doublet, which he also
wore, of a rich description of cloth, with slashed
sleeves, and a great ruff at either wrist. A heavy
gold chain about his neck, with a shining agnus dei,

[figure description] Page 200.[end figure description]

ostentatiously displayed, rather discovered his love of
ornament than any very decided religious feeling in
his breast. But without detailing the several parts
of his costume, it will suffice to say that he was a sort
of a sea-dandy, thought well of his person, and, for
reasons of his own, was disposed to make the most of
it. His manner was full of consequence and confidence,
and, as he approached his uncle, it might be
seen that he possessed no small share of influence in
determining the character of the latter's counsels.
He drew nigh to him, and whispered a few moments
in his ear.

“Be it so, my son! be it so!” said the other kindly,
and with a sudden brightening of the features. Had
the eye of Don Velasquez, at that moment, been
directed suddenly to the features of the lady, he would
have been somewhat gratified, as well as informed, by
their frequent and excessive changes. On the appearance
of the youth, Juan, she had addressed to
him a single glance of equal bitterness and scorn;
and, while he stooped and whispered in the ears of
his uncle, her look was that of a loathing such as one
would naturally feel at contact, suddenly, with a reptile
equally hideous and dangerous. But her features,
under the control of a most watchful will, resumed
their look of icy indifference before her tyrant could
detect their changes.

The whispered dialogue with Juan over, the latter
drew nigh to the lady, and proceeded to whisper in
her ear also. She recoiled from him with unqualified
disgust.

[figure description] Page 201.[end figure description]

“Beware!” he exclaimed, but in subdued accents,
Beware, Maria; you are on the eve of the precipice,
and a single word may incur for you the fate of your
favorite.”

“Assure me of that and I welcome it,” she answered,
with a sudden resumption of all the vivacity
which could be made to gather in an eye of unexampled
brilliancy and beauty.

The youth smiled spitefully, but said, “You are
wild! That fate would realize no hopes for either of
you. It would be death, and something worse than
death—denial to the grave, and, of course, beyond it.
But I am not now speaking of your death. It is
through me, Maria, that you live. Nay, you live—
need I tell you that?—because I love!”

“What if I proclaim you, where you stand, the
villain that you are?” answered the lady, in accents
similarly subdued with his own.

“It would avail you nothing! He would regard
it only as a mode of escape, which, in your desperation,
you seek to adopt. Does it need still that I
should prove to you how completely I control his ear
and fashion his will.”

“Alas, no! But what is the purpose, as he understands
it, of this whispered conference with me!”

“Ah! that is my secret,” the other answered with
a smile—“enough, that I speak of anything but
that! My true purpose is with you, and for you,
and myself! I will save this favorite of yours—save
him unharmed aboard the vessel, with probably no
greater penalty than close imprisonment, and”—he

[figure description] Page 202.[end figure description]

spoke this with a grin—“perhaps a denial of his
guitar. I will do this, Maria, if you will become wise
as I would have you—if—”

“I understand you—but that is impossible! I tell
you, Juan de Silva, I loathe you too much to keep
terms with you. You have gone too far—you have
shown me too vile an aspect—too serpent-like a tooth,
for me to suffer your near approach, save as a most
hateful and hated enemy. I will brave any fate before
I suffer this!”

“Beware! your words but doom your favorite.”

“Be it so! Had he been the man I thought him,
it had never come to this. It had been your fate, not
his, or mine! He deserves all that he finds, failing
himself, and failing me, at the proper moment. Hark
you, the dagger which his fingers clutched, when your
felon hand rested upon his shoulder, was put into them
by mine; and the name which my lips uttered when I
gave it him, was that of Juan de Silva. And yet he
struck not, but tamely submitted, sacrificing himself
and me. Now, that you have heard all, judge for
yourself what terms there can be between us!”

The lofty, if not noble scorn which filled her features
at this narrative, heightened wondrously the beauty
of her countenance. Her companion, though evidently
moved by her words, could not forbear betraying,
with open admiration of his gaze, how much it
stimulated his passion. He spoke, after a brief moment,
lost in the absorbing pleasure of his gaze.

“I can forgive you, Maria, and adore you still.
That this Lopez was thus base and insensible, should

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surely satisfy you that he was not meant to enjoy, or
to deserve, a heart like yours. Be mine, and all is
yours! I am here the master. I can save this creature—
will save him, for I fear him not, but—I must
have your assurance.”

“Never! Juan de Silva! Never!”

“Beware!”

“Never!”

“Once again, beware! You precipitate his fate!”

“I should precipitate myself upon a worse, if I
sought to save him upon these conditions. I loathe
and hate you, Juan de Silva; too much to endure
your smiles, your favors, the snake-like and revolting
coil of your venomous embrace.”

“You have doomed him!” was the sullen answer
from the scarcely parted lips of the youth. “His
fate is sealed forever!”

He was about to turn away.

“Stay!” was the eager whisper of the woman.

“Well.”

“What is that fate?” was the faintly spoken inquiry
that reached his ears.

“You will know soon enough. His hour approaches.”

“And I too am prepared for mine! I too can
perish!” were the muttered accents which reached the
retreating ears of the scowling Juan. He turned, and
fixed a simple glance upon her pallid but proud features.
The glance was one of equal hate and
mockery. It helped to strengthen her, and her high
spirit prepared itself for the worst.

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