LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 MRS. MARY WOLFSOHN 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 HENRY WOLFSOHN 
 
 Ql j^r 
 
 1 
 
 14 
 
 J 
 

lv f> 
 
THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 an, 
 
 GRACE AOUILAR, 
 
 4PTHOR OF "HOME INFLUENCE," "WOMAN S FRIENDSHIP," ETC. 
 
 The wild dove hath her nest the fox her cave- 
 Mankind tlnir country Israel but the grave." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 r 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY. 
 1851. 
 
v/ 
 
<v rf. 
 
 MEMOIR OF GRACE AGUILAR. 
 
 GRACE AGUILAR was born at Hackney, June 2nd, 1816. 
 She was the eldest child, and only daughter of Emanuel 
 Aguilar, one of those merchants descended from the Jews 
 of Spain, who, almost within the memory of man, fled from 
 persecution in that country, and sought and found an asy 
 lum in England. 
 
 The delicate frame and feeble health observable in Grace 
 Aguilar throughout her life, displayed itself from infancy ; 
 from the age of three years, she was almost constantly un 
 der the care of some physician, and, by their advice, annu 
 ally spending the summer months by the sea, in the hope of 
 rousing and strengthening a naturally fragile constitution. 
 This want of physical energy was, however, in direct con 
 trast to her mental powers, which developed early, and 
 readily. She learned to read with scarcely any trouble, 
 and when once that knowledge was gained, her answer when 
 asked what she would like for a present, was invariably " A 
 book," which was read, re-read, and preserved with a care 
 remarkable in so young a child. With the exception of 
 eighteen months passed at school, her mother was her sole 
 instructress, and both parents took equal delight in direct 
 ing her studies, and facilitating her personal inspection of 
 
fl MEMOIR OF GRACE AGUILAR. 
 
 all that was curious and interesting in the various counties 
 of England to which they resorted for her health. 
 
 From the early age of seven she commenced keeping a 
 journal, which was continued with scarce any intermission 
 throughout her life. In 1825 she visited Oxford, Chelten 
 ham, Gloucester, Worcester, Eoss, and Bath, and though at 
 that time but nine years old, her father took her to Glouces 
 ter and Worcester cathedrals, and also to see a porcelain 
 and pin manufactory, &c., the attention and interest she dis 
 played on these occasions, affording convincing proof that her 
 mind was alive to appreciate and enjoy what was thus pre 
 sented to her observation. Before she had completed her 
 twelfth year she ventured to try her powers in composition, 
 and wrote a little drama, called Gustavus Vasa, never pub 
 lished, and only here recorded as being the first germ of 
 what was afterwards to become the ruling passion. 
 
 In September, 1828, the family went to reside in Devon 
 shire for the health of Mr. Aguilar, and there a strong ad 
 miration for the beauties and wonders of nature manifested 
 itself: she constantly collected shells, stones, seaweed, moss 
 es, &c., in her daily rambles ; and not satisfied with admir 
 ing their beauty, sedulously procured whatever little cate 
 chisms or other books on those subjects she could purchase, 
 or borrow, eagerly endeavoring by their study, to increase 
 her knowledge of their nature and properties. 
 
 When she had attained the age of fourteen, her father 
 commenced a regular course of instruction for his child, by 
 reading aloud, while she was employed in drawing, needle 
 work, &c. History was selected, that being the study which 
 now most interested her, and the first work chosen was Jo- 
 Bephus. 
 
 It was while spending a short time at Tavistock, in 
 1830, that the beauty of the surrounding scenery led her to 
 express her thoughts in verse. Several small pieces soon 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE AGUILAR. Vil 
 
 followed her first essay, and she became extremely fond of 
 this new exercise and enjoyment of her opening powers, yet 
 her mind was so well regulated, that she never permitted her 
 self to indulge in original composition until her duties, and 
 her studies, were all performed. 
 
 Grace Aguilar was extremely fond of music ; she had 
 learned the piano from infancy, and in 1831 commenced 
 the harp. She sang pleasingly, preferring English songs, 
 and invariably selecting them for the beauty or sentiment of 
 the words ; she was also passionately fond of dancing, and 
 her cheerful lively manners in the society of her young 
 friends, would scarcely have led any to imagine how deeply 
 she felt and pondered upon the serious and solemn subjects 
 which afterwards formed the labor of her life. She seemed 
 to enjoy all, to enter into all, but a keen observer would de 
 tect the hold that sacred and holy principle ever exercised 
 over her lightest act, and gayest hour. A sense of duty 
 was apparent in the meiest trifle, and her following out of 
 the divine command of obedience to parents, was only equal 
 led by the unbounded affection she felt for them. A wish 
 was once expressed by her mother that she should not waltz, 
 and no solicitation could afterwards tempt her. Her mother 
 also required her to read sermons, and study religion and 
 the Bible regularly ; this was readily submitted to, first as 
 a task, but afterwards with much delight ; for evidence of 
 which we cannot do better than quote her own words in one 
 of her religious works. 
 
 " This formed into a habit, and persevered in for a life, 
 would in time, and without labor or weariness, give the com 
 fort and the knowledge that we seek ; each year it would 
 become lighter, and more blest, each year we should discov 
 er something we knew not before, and in the valley of the 
 shadow of death, feel to our heart s core that the Lord our 
 God is Truth." Women of Israel, Vol. II, page 43. 
 
Vlll MEMOIR OF GRACE AGUILAR. 
 
 Nor did Grace Aguilar only study religion for her own 
 personal observance and profit. She embraced its principles 
 (the principles of all creeds) in a widely extended and truly 
 liberal sense. She carried her practice of its holy and be 
 nevolent precepts into every minutiae of her daily life, doing 
 all the good her limited means would allow, finding time, in 
 the midst of her own studies, and most varied and con 
 tinual occupations, to work for, and instruct her poor neigh 
 bors in the country, and while steadily venerating and 
 adhering to her own faith, neither inquiring nor heeding 
 the religious opinions of the needy whom she succored or 
 consoled. To be permitted to help and comfort, she con 
 sidered a privilege and a pleasure ; she left the rest to God ; 
 and thus bestowing and receiving blessings and smiles from 
 all who had the opportunity of knowing her, her young life 
 flowed on, in an almost uninterrupted stream of enjoyment, 
 until she had completed her nineteenth year. 
 
 Alas ! the scene was soon to change, and trials awaited 
 that spirit which, in the midst of sunshine, had so beauti 
 fully striven to prepare itself a shelter from the storm. The 
 two brothers of Miss Aguilar, whom she tenderly loved, 
 left the paternal roof to be placed far from their family at 
 school. Her mother s health necessitated a painful and dan 
 gerous operation, and from that time for several years, al 
 ternate hopes and fears through long and dreary watchings 
 beside the sick bed of that beloved mother, became the por 
 tion of her gifted child. But even this depressing and ar 
 duous change in the duties of her existence did not suspend 
 her literary pursuits and labors. She profited by all the in 
 tervals she could command, and wrote the tale of the " Mar 
 tyr," the " Spirit of Judaism," and " Israel Defended ;" the 
 latter translated from the French, at the earnest request of 
 a friend, and printed only for private circulation. The 
 41 Magic Wreath," a little poetical work, and the first our 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE AGUILAR. IX 
 
 authoress ever published, dedicated to the Right Honorable 
 the Countess of Munster, also appeared about this time. 
 
 In the Spring of 1835, Grace Aguilar was attacked with 
 measles, and never afterwards recovered her previous state 
 of health, suffering at intervals with such exhausting feel 
 ings of weakness, as to become without any visible disease 
 really alarming. 
 
 The medical attendants recommended entire rest of mind 
 and body ; she visited the sea, and seemed a little revived, 
 but anxieties were gathering around her horizon, to which 
 it became evidently impossible her ardent and active mind 
 could remain passive or indifferent, and which recalled 
 svery feeling, every energy of her impressible nature into 
 action. Her elder brother, who had long chosen music as 
 his profession, was sent to Germany to pursue his studies ; 
 the younger determined upon entering the sea service. The 
 excitement of these changes, and the parting with both, 
 was highly injurious to their affectionate sister, and her 
 delight a few months after, at welcoming the sailor boy re 
 turned from his first voyage, with all his tales of danger 
 and adventure, and his keen enjoyment of the path of life 
 he had chosen, together with her struggles to do her utmost 
 to share his walks and companionship, contributed yet more 
 to impair her inadequate strength. 
 
 The second parting was scarcely over ere her father, who 
 had long shown symptoms of failing health, became the vic 
 tim of consumption. He breathed his last in her arms, and 
 the daughter, while sorrowing over all she had lost, roused 
 herself once more to the utmost, feeling that she was the sole 
 comforter beside her remaining parent. Soon after, when 
 her brother again returned, finding the death of his father, 
 he resolved not to make his third voyage as a midshipman, but 
 endeavor to procure some employment sufficiently lucrative 
 1* 
 
X MEMOIR OF GRACE AGUILAR. 
 
 to prevent his remaining a burthen upon his widowed 
 mother. Long and anxiously did he pursue this object, his 
 sister, whose acquaintance with literary and talented persons 
 had greatly increased, using all her energy and influence in 
 his behalf, and concentrating all the enthusiastic feelings of 
 her nature in inspiring him with patience, comfort, and hope, 
 as often as they failed him under his repeated disappoint 
 ments. At length his application was taken up by a power 
 ful friend, for her sake, and she had the happiness of succeed 
 ing, and saw him depart at the very summit of his wishes. 
 Repose, which had been so long necessary, seemed now at 
 hand ; but her nerves had been too long and too repeatedly 
 overstrung, and when this task was done, the worn and weary 
 spirit could sustain no more, and sank under the labor that 
 had been imposed upon it. 
 
 Severe illness followed, and though it yielded after a time 
 to skilful remedies and tender care, her excessive languor 
 and severe headaches, continued to give her family and 
 friends great uneasiness. 
 
 During all these demands upon her time, her thoughts, 
 and her health, however, the ruling passion neither slumber 
 ed nor slept. She completed the Jewish Faith, and also pre 
 pared Home Influence for the press, though very unfit to 
 have taxed her powers so far. Her medical attendant be 
 came urgent for total change of air and scene, and again 
 strongly interdicted all mental exertion a trip to Frankfort, 
 to visit her elder brother, was therefore decided on. In 
 June, 1847, she set out, and bore the journey without suffer 
 ing nearly so much as might have been expected. Her hopes 
 were high, her spirits raised the novelty and interest of her 
 first travels on the Continent gave her for a very transient pe 
 riod a gleam, as it were, of strength. For a week or two she 
 appeared to rally, then again every exertion became too much 
 for her, every stimulating remedy to exhaust her. She was 
 
MEMOlll OF GRACE AGU1LAR. XI 
 
 ordered from Frankfort to try the baths and mineral waters 
 of Schwalbach, but without success. After a stay of six 
 weeks, and persevering with exemplary patience in the treat 
 ment prescribed, she was one night seized with alarming con 
 vulsive spasms, so terrible that her family removed her next 
 morning with all speed back to Frankfort, to the house of a 
 family of most kind friends, where every attention and care 
 was lavishly bestowed. 
 
 In vain. She took to her bed the very day of her arri 
 val, and never rose from it again ; she became daily weaker, 
 and in three weeks from that time her sufferings ceased for 
 ever. She was perfectly conscious to within less than two 
 hours before her death, and took an affectionate leave of her 
 mother and brother. Speech had been a matter of difficulty 
 for some time previous, her throat being greatly affected by 
 her malady ; but she had, in consequence, learned to use her 
 fingers in the manner of the deaf and dumb, and almost the 
 last time they moved, it was to spell upon them feebly, 
 " Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." 
 
 She was buried in the cemetery of Frankfort, one side of 
 which is set apart for the people of her faith. The stone 
 which marks the spot bears upon it a butterfly and five stars, 
 emblematic of the soul in heaven, and beneath appears the 
 inscription 
 
 " Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise 
 her in the gates." Prov. ch. xxxi, v. 31. 
 
 And thus, 16th September, 1847, at the early age of thir 
 ty-one, Grace Aguilar was laid to rest the bowl was broken, 
 the silver cord was loosed. Her life was short and checkered 
 with pain and anxiety, but she strove hard to make it useful 
 and valuable, by employing diligently and faithfully the tal 
 ents with which she had been endowed. Nor did the serious 
 view with which she ever regarded earthly existence, induce 
 
Xll MEMOIR OF GRACE AGU1LAR. 
 
 her to neglect or despise any occasion of enjoyment, advan 
 tage, or sociality which presented itself. Her heart was 
 ever open to receive, her hand to give. 
 
 Inasmuch as she succeeded to the satisfaction of her fel 
 low beings, let them be grateful ; inasmuch as she failed, let 
 those who perceive it deny her not the meed of praise, for 
 her endeavor to open the path she believed would lead man 
 kind to practical virtue and happiness, and strive to carry out 
 the pure philanthropic principles by which she was actuated, 
 and which she so earnestly endeavored to diffuse. 
 
 OCTOBER, 1849. 
 
THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MAETYK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " They had met, and they had parted ; 
 Time had closed o er each again, 
 Leaving lone the weary hearted 
 Mournfully to wear his chain." MS. 
 
 A JDELTCIOUSLY cool, still evening, had succeeded the intense 
 heat of a Spanish summer day, throwing rich shadows and 
 rosy gleams on a wild, rude mountain pass in central Spain. 
 Massive crags and gigantic trees seemed to contest dominion 
 over the path, if path it could be called ; where the traveller, 
 if he would persist in going onwards, could only make his 
 way by sometimes scrambling over rocks, whose close ap 
 proach from opposite sides presented a mere fissure covered 
 with flowers and brushwood, through which the slimmest 
 figure would fail to penetrate; sometimes wading through 
 rushing and brawling streams, whose rapid currents bore 
 many a jagged branch and craggy fragment along with them ; 
 sometimes threading the intricacies of a dense forest, recog 
 nizing the huge pine, the sweet acorn oak, the cork tree, in 
 terspersed with others of lesser growth, but of equally wild 
 perplexing luxuriance. On either side at times so close 
 that two could not walk abreast, at others so divided that 
 forests and streams intervened arose mountain walls seem- 
 
14 THE VALE OF CEDARS, 
 
 ing to reach the very heavens, their base covered with treea 
 and foliage, which gradually thinning, left their dark heads 
 totally barren, coming out in clear relief against the deep 
 blue sky. 
 
 That this pass led to any inhabited district was little 
 probable, for it grew wilder and wilder, appearing to lead to 
 the very heart of the Sierra Toledo a huge ridge travers 
 ing Spain. By human foot it had evidently been seldom 
 trod ; yet on this particular evening a traveller there wended 
 his solitary way. His figure was slight to boyishness, but of 
 fair proportion, and of such graceful agility of movement, 
 that the obstacles in his path, which to others of stouter 
 mould and heavier step might have been of serious inconve 
 nience, appeared by him as unnoticed as unfelt. The deep 
 plume of his broad-rimmed hat could not conceal the deep 
 blue restless eyes, the delicate complexion, and ricli brown 
 clustering hair ; the varying expression of features, which if 
 not regularly handsome, were bright with intelligence and 
 truth, and betraying like a crystal mirror every impulse of 
 the heart characteristics both of feature and disposition 
 wholly dissimilar to the sons of Spain. 
 
 His physiognomy told truth. Arthur Stanley was, as his 
 name implied, an Englishman of noble family ; one of the 
 many whom the disastrous wars of the Roses had rendered 
 voluntary exiles. His father and four brothers had fallen 
 in battle at Margaret s side. Himself and a twin brother, 
 when scarcely fifteen, were taken prisoners at Towkesbury, 
 and for three years left to languish in prison. Wishing to 
 conciliate the still powerful family of Stanley, Edward offer 
 ed the youths liberty and honor if they would swear allegi 
 ance to himself. They refused peremptorily; and with a 
 refinement of cruelty more like Richard of Gloucester than 
 himself, Edward ordered one to the block, the other to per 
 petual imprisonment. They drew lots, and Edwin Stanley 
 perished. Arthur, after an interval, succeeded in effecting 
 his escape, and fled from England, lingered in Provence a 
 few months, and then unable to bear an inactive life, hasten 
 ed to the Court of Arragon ; to the heir apparent of which, 
 he bore letters of introduction, from men of rank and influ 
 ence, and speedily distinguished himself in the wars then 
 agitating Spain. The character of the Spaniards impene- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR 15 
 
 trable and haughty reserve occasioned, in general, prejudice 
 and dislike towards all foreigners. But powerful as was 
 their pride, so was their generosity; and the young and lone 
 ly stranger, who had thrown himself so trustingly and frankly 
 on their friendship, was universally received with kindness 
 and regard. In men of lower natures, indeed, prejudice still 
 lingered; but this was of little matter; Arthur speedily took 
 his place among the noblest chivalry of Spain ; devoted to 
 the interests of the King of Sicily, but still glorying in the 
 name and feeling of an Englishman, he resolved, in his young 
 enthusiasm, to make his country honored in himself. 
 
 He had been five years in Spain, and was now four and 
 twenty ; but few would have imagined him that age, so frank 
 and free and full of thoughtless mirth and hasty impulse was 
 his character. These last fifteen months, however, a shadow 
 seemed to have fallen over him, not deep enough to create 
 remark, but/eft by himself. His feelings, always ardent, had 
 been all excited, and were all concentrated, on a subject so 
 wrapt in mystery, that the wish to solve it engrossed his 
 whole being. Except when engaged in the weary stratagem, 
 the rapid march, and actual conflict, necessary for Ferdi 
 nand s interest, but one thought, composed of many, occu 
 pied his mind, and in solitude so distractingly, that he could 
 never rest; he would traverse the country for miles, con 
 scious indeed of what he sought, but perfectly unconscious 
 where he ivent. 
 
 It was in one of these moods he had entered the 
 pass we have described, rejoicing in its difficulties, but not 
 thinking where it led, or what place he sought, when a 
 huge crag suddenly rising almost perpendicularly before 
 him, effectually roused him from his trance. Outlet there 
 was none. All around him towered mountains, reaching to 
 the skies. The path was so winding, that, as he looked round 
 bewildered, he could not even imagine how he came there. 
 To retrace his steps, seemed quite as difficult as to proceed, 
 The sun too had declined, or was effectually concealed by the 
 towering rocks, for sudden jdarkness seemed around him. 
 There was but one way, and Stanley prepared to scale the 
 precipitous crag before him with more eagerness than he 
 would a beaten path. He threw off his cloak, folded it in 
 the smallest possible compass, and secured it like a knapsack 
 
16 THE VALE OF CEDARS. 
 
 to his shoulders, slung his sword over his neck, and, with a 
 vigorous spring, which conquered several paces of slippery 
 rock at once, commenced the ascent. Some brushwood, and 
 one or two stunted trees, gave him now and then a hold for 
 his hands ; and occasional ledges in the rock, a resting for 
 his foot ; but still one false step, one failing nerve, and he 
 must have fallen backwards and been dashed to pieces ; but 
 to Arthur the danger was his safety. Where he was going, in 
 deed he knew not. He could see no further than the sum 
 mit of the crag, which appeared like a line against the sky ; 
 but any bewilderment were preferable to the straige stagna 
 tion towards outward objects, which had enwrapped him ten 
 minutes before. 
 
 Panting, breathless, almost exhausted, he reached the 
 summit, and before him yawned a chasm, dark, fathomless, 
 as if nature in some wild convulsion had rent the rock asun 
 der. The level ground on which he stood was barely four 
 feet square ; behind him sloped the most precipitous side of 
 the crag, devoid of tree or bush, and slippery from the con 
 stant moisture that formed a deep black pool at its base. 
 Stanley hazarded but one glance behind, then looked stea 
 dily forward, till his eye seemed accustomed to the width of 
 the chasm, which did not exceed three feet. He fixed his 
 hold firmly on a blasted trunk growing within the chasm ; 
 It shook gave way another moment and he would have 
 been lost ; but in that moment he loosed his hold, clasped 
 both hands above his head, and successfully made the leap . 
 aware only of the immense effort by the exhaustion which 
 followed compelling him to sink down on the grass, deprived 
 even of energy to look around him. 
 
 So marvellous was the change of scenery on which his 
 eyes unclosed, that he started to his feet, bewildered. A gra 
 dual hill, partly covered with rich meadow grass, and partly 
 with corn, diversified with foliage, sloped downwards, leading 
 by an easy descent to a small valley, where orange and lime 
 trees, the pine and chestnut, palm and cedar, grew in beauti 
 ful luxuriance. On the left was a small dwelling, almost hid 
 den in trees. Directly beneath him a natural fountain threw 
 its sparkling showers on beds of sweet-scented and gayly- 
 colored flowers. The hand of man had very evidently aided 
 nature in forming the wild yet chaste beauty of the scene ; 
 
17 
 
 and Arthur bounded down the slope, disturbing a few tame 
 sheep and goats on his way, determined on discovering the 
 genius of the place. 
 
 No living object was visible, however ; and with his usual 
 reckless spirit, ho resolved on exploring further, ere he de 
 manded the hospitality of the dwelling. A narrow path led 
 into a thicker wood, and in the very heart of its shade stood 
 a small edifice, the nature of which Arthur vainly endeavor 
 ed to understand. It was square, and formed of solid blocks 
 of cedar ; neither carving nor imagery of any kind adorned 
 it ; yet it had evidently been built with skill and care. There 
 was neither tower nor bell, the usual accompaniments of a 
 chapel, which Stanley had at first imagined it ; and he stood 
 gazing on it more and more bewildered. At that moment, a 
 female voice of singular and thrilling beauty sounded from 
 within. It was evidently a hymn she chanted, for the strain 
 was slow and solemn, but though words were distinctly in 
 telligible, their language was entirely unknown. The young 
 man listened at first, conscious only of increasing wonder 
 ment, which was quickly succeeded by a thrill of hope, so 
 strange, so engrossing, that he stood, outwardly indeed as if 
 turned to stone; inwardly, with every pulse so throbbing that 
 to move or speak was impossible. The voice ceased ; and in 
 another minute a door, so skilfully constructed as when 
 closed to be invisible in the solid wall, opened noiselessly ; 
 and a female figure stood before him. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Farewell ! though in that sound be years 
 Of blighted hopes and fruitless tears 
 Though the soul vibrate to its knel) 
 Of joys departed yet farewell." 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 To attempt description of either face or form would be use 
 less. The exquisite proportions of the rounded figure, the 
 very perfection of each feature, the delicate clearness of the 
 
18 
 
 complexion brunette when brought in close contact with the 
 Saxon, blonde when compared with the Spaniard all attrac 
 tions in themselves, were literally forgotten, or at least un 
 heeded, beneath the spell which dwelt in the expression of 
 her countenance. Truth, purity, holiness, something scarce 
 ly of this nether world, yet blended indescribably with all a 
 woman s nature, had rested there, attracting the most unob 
 servant, and riveting all whose own hearts contained a spark 
 of the same lofty attributes. Her dress, too, was peculiar 
 a full loose petticoat of dark blue silk, reaching only to the 
 ankle, and so displaying the beautifully-shaped foot ; a jack 
 et of pale yellow, the texture seeming of the finest woven 
 wool, reaching to the throat ; with sleeves tight on the shoul 
 ders, but falling in wide folds as low as the wrist, and so with 
 every movement displaying the round soft arm beneath. An 
 antique brooch of curiously wrought silver confined the jack 
 et at the throat. The collar, made either to stand up or fall, 
 was this evening unclosed and thrown black, its silver fringe 
 gleaming through the clustering tresses that fell in all their 
 native richness and raven blackness over her shoulders, part 
 ed and braided on her brow, so as to heighten the chaste and 
 classic expression of her features. 
 
 On a stranger that beautiful vision must have burst with 
 bewildering power : to Arthur Stanley she united memory 
 with being, the past with the present, with such an intensity 
 of emotion, that for a few minutes his very breath was im 
 peded. She turned, without seeing him, in a contrary direc 
 tion ; and the movement roused him. 
 
 " Marie !" he passionately exclaimed, flinging himself di 
 rectly in her path, and startling her so painfully, that though 
 there was a strong and visible effort at self-control, she must 
 have fallen had he not caught her in his arms. There was 
 an effort to break from his hold, a murmured exclamation, 
 in which terror, astonishment, and yet joy. were painfully 
 mingled, and then the heroine gave place to the woman, for 
 her head sunk on his shoulder and she burst into tears. 
 
 Time passed. Nearly an hour from that strange meet 
 ing, and still they were together ; but no joy, nor even hope 
 was on the countenance of either. At first, Arthur had al- 
 Inded to their hours of happy yet unconfesscd affection, when 
 ">tli had felt, intuitively, that they were all in all to each 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 19 
 
 jther, though not a syllable of love had passed their lips ; on 
 the sweet memories of those blissful hours, so brief, so fleet 
 ing, but still Marie wept : the memory seemed anguish more 
 than joy. And then he spoke of returned affection, as avow 
 ed by her, when his fond words had called it forth ; and shud 
 dered at the recollection that that hour of acknowledged and 
 mutual love, had proved the signal of their separation He 
 referred again to her agonized words, that a union was impos 
 sible, that she dared not wed him ; it was sin even to love 
 him ; that in the tumultuary, yet delicious emotions she had 
 experienced, she had forgotten, utterly forgotten in what it 
 must end the agony of desolation for herself, and, if he so 
 loved her, for Stanley also and again he conjured her to ex 
 plain their meaning. They had been separated, after that 
 fearful interview, by a hasty summons for him to rejoin his 
 camp ; and when he returned, she had vanished. He could 
 not trace either her or the friend with whom she had been 
 staying. Don Albert had indeed said, his wife had gone to 
 one of the southern cities, and his young guest returned to 
 her father s home ; but where that home was, Don Albert 
 had so effectually evaded, that neither direct questionings 
 nor wary caution could obtain reply. But he had found her 
 now ; they had met once more, and oh, why need they part 
 again ? Why might he not seek her father, and beseech his 
 blessing and consent ? 
 
 His words were eloquent, his tone impassioned, and hard 
 indeed the struggle they occasioned. But Marie wavered not 
 in the repetition of the same miserable truth, under the im 
 pression of which they had separated before. She conjured 
 him to leave her, to forget the existence of this hidden valley, 
 for danger threatened her father and herself if it was discov 
 ered. So painful was her evident terror, that Arthur pledged 
 his honor never to reveal it, declaring that to retrace the path 
 by which he had discovered it, was even to himself impossi 
 ble. But still he urged her, what was this fatal secret? Why 
 was it sin to love him? Was she the betrothed of another? 
 and the large drops starting to the young man s brow de 
 noted the agony of the question. 
 
 " No, Arthur, no," was the instant rejoinder : " I never 
 could love, never could be another s, this trial is hard enough. 
 
20 
 
 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 but it is all I have to bear. I am not called upon to give 
 my hand to another, while my heart is solely thine." 
 
 " Then wherefore join that harsh word sin, with such 
 pure love, my Marie ? Why send me from you wretched and 
 most lonely, when no human power divides us ?" 
 
 " No human power ! alas ! alas ! a father s curse an 
 offended God these are too awful to encounter, Arthur. Oh 
 do not try me more ; leave me to my fate, called down by my 
 own weakness, dearest Arthur. If you indeed love me, tempt 
 me not by such fond words; they do but render duty harder. 
 Oh, wherefore have you loved me !" 
 
 But such suffering tone, such broken words, ivere not 
 likely to check young Stanley s solicitations. Again and 
 again he urged her, at least to say what fatal secret so di 
 vided them ; did he but know it, it might be all removed. 
 Marie listened to him for several minutes, with averted head 
 and in unbroken silence ; and when she did look on him 
 again, he started at her marble paleness and the convulsive 
 quivering of her lips, which for above a minute prevented the 
 utterance of a word. 
 
 " Be it so," she said at length ; " you shall know this im 
 passable barrier. You are too honorable to reveal it. Alas ! 
 it is not that fear which restrained me ; my own weakness 
 which shrinks from being to thee as to other men, were the 
 truth once known, an object of aversion and of scorn." 
 
 " Aversion ! scorn ! Marie, thou ravest," impetuously ex 
 claimed Stanley; "torture me not by these dark words: the 
 worst cannot be more suffering." 
 
 But when the words were said, when with blanched lips 
 and cheeks, and yet unfaltering tone, Marie revealed the se 
 cret which was to separate them for ever. Arthur staggered 
 back, relinquishing the hands he had so fondly clasped, cast 
 ing on her one look in which love and aversion were strange 
 ly and fearfully blended, and then burying his face in his 
 hands, his whole frame shook as with some sudden and irre 
 pressible anguish. 
 
 " Thou knowest all, now," continued Marie, after a pause, 
 and she stood before him with arms folded on her bosom, 
 and an expression of meek humility struggling with misery 
 on her beautiful features. " Senor Stanley, I need not now 
 implore you to leave me; that look was sufficient, say but 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 21 
 
 you forgive the deception I have been compelled to practise 
 and and forget me. Remember what I am, and you will 
 soon cease to love." 
 
 " Never, never !" replied Stanley, as with passionate ago 
 ny he flung himself before her. " Come with me to my own 
 bright land; who shall know what thou art there? Marie, 
 my own beloved, be mine. What to me is race or blood? I 
 see but the Marie I have loved, I shall ever love. Come with 
 me. Edward has made overtures of peace if I would return 
 to England. For thy sake I will live beneath his sway ; be 
 but mine, and oh, we shall be happy yet." 
 
 " And my father," gasped the unhappy girl, for the gene 
 rous nature of Arthur s love rendered her trial almost too 
 severe. "Wilt thou protect him too? wilt thou for my sake 
 forget what he is, and be to him a son?" He turned from 
 her with a stifled groan. " Thou canst not I knew it oh 
 bless thee for thy generous love ; but tempt me no more, 
 Arthur; it cannot be; I dare not be thy bride" 
 
 " And yet thou speakest of love. Tis false, thou canst 
 not love me," and Stanley sprung to his feet disappointed, 
 wounded, till he scarce knew what he said. " I would give 
 up Spain and her monarch s love for thee. I would live in 
 slavery beneath a tyrant s rule to give thee a home of love. 
 I would forget, trample on, annihilate the prejudices of a life, 
 unite the pure blood of Stanley with the darkened torrent 
 running through thy veins, forget thy race, descent, all but 
 thine own sweet self. I would do this, all this for love of 
 thee. And for me, what wilt thou do? reject me, bid me 
 leave thee and yet thou speakest of love: tis false, thou 
 lovest another better !" 
 
 " Ay !" replied Marie, in a tone which startled him, " ay, 
 thou hast rightly spoken ; thy words have recalled what in 
 this deep agony I had well nigh forgotten. There is a love, 
 a duty stronger than that I bear to thee. I would resign all 
 else, but not my father s God." 
 
 The words were few and simple ; but the tone in which 
 they were spoken recalled Arthur s better nature, and ban 
 ished hope at once. A pause ensued, broken only by the 
 young man s hurried tread, as he traversed the little plat 
 form in the vain struggle for calmness. On him this blow 
 had fallen wholly unprepared j Marie had faced it from the 
 
22 
 
 moment they had parted fifteen months before, and her only 
 prayer had been (a fearful one for a young and loving heart), 
 that Stanley would forget her, and they might never meet 
 again. But this was not to be ; and though she had believed 
 herself prepared, one look on his face, one sound of his voice 
 had proved how vain had been her dream. 
 
 " I will obey thee, Marie," Stanley said, at length, paus 
 ing before her. " I will leave thee now, but not not for 
 ever. No, no ; if indeed thou lovest me time will not change 
 thee, if thou hast one sacred tie, when nature severs that, and 
 thou art alone on earth, thou shalt be mine, whatever be thy 
 race." 
 
 " Hope it not, ask it not ! Oh, Arthur, better thou 
 shouldst hate me, as thy people do my race : I cannot bear 
 such gentle words," faltered poor Marie, as her head sunk 
 for a minute on his bosom, and the pent-up tears burst forth. 
 But this is folly," she continued, forcing back the choking 
 sob, and breaking from his passionate embrace. " There is 
 danger alike for my father and thee, if thou tarriest longer. 
 Not that way," she added, as his eye glanced inquiringly to 
 wards the hill by which he had descended; "there is another 
 and an easier path ; follow me thou wilt not betray it ?" 
 
 " Never!" was the solemn rejoinder, and not a word more 
 passed between them. He followed her through what seemed 
 to be an endless maze, and paused before a towering rock, 
 which, smooth and perpendicular as a wall built by man, ran 
 round the vale and seemed to reach to heaven. Pushing 
 aside the thick brushwood, Marie stood beside the rock, and 
 by some invisible movement, a low door flew open and dis 
 closed a winding staircase. 
 
 " Thou wilt trust me, Arthur?" 
 
 " Ay, unto death," he answered, springing after her up 
 the rugged stair. Narrow loopholes, almost concealed with 
 out by trees and brushwood, dimly lighted the staircase, as 
 also a low, narrow passage, which branched off in zig-zag 
 windings at the top, and terminated, as their woody path 
 had done, in a solid wall. But again an invisible door flew 
 open, closing behind them ; and after walking about a hun 
 dred yards through prickly shrubs and entangled brushwood 
 that obscured his sight, Marie paused, and Arthur gazed 
 round bewildered. A seemingly boundless plain stretched 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 23 
 
 for miles around him, its green level only diversified by rocks 
 scattered about in huge masses and wild confusion, as if 
 hurled in fury from some giant s hand. The rock whence he 
 had issued was completely invisible. He looked around again 
 and again, but only to bewilder himself yet more. 
 
 " The way looks more dreary than it is. Keep to the 
 left : though it seems the less trodden path thou wilt find 
 there a shelter for the night, and to-morrow s sun will soon 
 guide thee to a frontier town ; thy road will be easy then. 
 Night is falling so fast now, thou hadst best not linger, Ar 
 thur." 
 
 But he did linger, till once more he had drawn from her 
 a confession of her love, that none other could take his place, 
 even while she conjured him never to seek her again and 
 so they parted. Five minutes more, and there was not a 
 vestige of a human form on the wide-extended plain. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Now History unfolds her ample page, 
 Rich with the spoils of Time." 
 
 CLEARLY to comprehend the internal condition of Spain at 
 the period of our narrative (1479) a condition which, though 
 apparently purely national, had influence over every domes 
 tic hearth it is necessary to glance back a few years. The 
 various petty Sovereignties into which Spain had been divi 
 ded never permitted any lengthened period of peace ; but 
 these had at length merged into two great kingdoms, under 
 the names of Arragon and Castile. The form of both gov 
 ernments was monarchical ; but the genius of the former was 
 purely republican, and the power of the sovereign so circum 
 scribed by the Junta, the Justicia, and the Holy Brother 
 hood, that the vices or follies of the monarch were of less 
 consequence, in a national point of view, in Arragon, than 
 n any other kingdom. It was not so with Castile. From 
 the death of Henry the Third, in 1404, a series of foreign 
 
24 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 and civil disasters had plunged the kingdom in a state of 
 anarchy and misery. John the Second had some virtues as 
 an individual, but none as a king ; and his son Henry, who 
 succeeded him in 1450, had neither the one nor the other. 
 Governed as his father had been, entirely by favorites, the 
 discontent of all classes of his subjects rapidly increased ; 
 the people were disgusted and furious at the extravagance 
 of the monarch s minion ; the nobles, fired at his insolence ; 
 and an utter contempt of the king, increased the virulence 
 of the popular ferment. Unmindful of the disgrace attend 
 ant on his divorce from Blanche of Navarre, Henry sought 
 and obtained the hand of Joanna, Princess of Portugal, 
 whose ambition and unprincipled intrigues heightened the 
 ill-favor with which he was already regarded. The court of 
 Castile, once so famous for chastity and honor, sank to the 
 lowest ebb of infamy, the shadow of which, seeming to ex 
 tend over the whole land, affected nobles and people with 
 its baleful influence. All law was at an end : the people, 
 even while they murmured against the King, followed his 
 evil example ; and history shrinks from the scenes of de 
 bauchery and licentiousness, robbery and murder, which des 
 ecrated the land. But this state of things could not last 
 long, while there still remained some noble hearts amongst 
 the Castilians. Five years after their marriage, the Queen 
 was said to have given birth to a daughter, whom Henry de 
 clared should be his successor, in lieu of his young brother 
 Alfonso (John s son, by a second wife, Isabella of Portugal). 
 This child the nobles refused to receive, believing and de 
 claring that she was not Henry s daughter, and arrogated 
 to themselves the right of trying and passing sentence on 
 their Sovereign, who, by his weak, flagitious conduct had, 
 they unanimously declared, forfeited all right even to the 
 present possession of the crown. 
 
 The confederates, who were the very highest and noblest 
 officers of the realm, assembled at Avita, and with a solem 
 nity and pomp which gave the whole ceremony an imposing 
 character of reality, dethroned King Henry in effigy, and 
 proclaimed the youthful Alfonso sovereign in his stead. All 
 present swore fealty, but no actual good followed : the flame 
 of civil discord was re-lighted, and raged with yet greater 
 fury ; continuing even after the sudden and mysterious death 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 25 
 
 of the young prince, whose extraordinary talent, amiability, 
 and firmness, though only fourteen, gave rise to the rumor 
 that he had actually been put to death by his own party, 
 who beheld in his rising genius the utter destruction of 
 their own turbulence and pride. Be this as it may, his 
 death occasioned no cessation of hostilities, the confederates 
 carrying on the war in the name of his sister, the Infanta 
 Isabella. Her youth and sex had pointed her out as one 
 not likely to interfere or check the projects of popular am 
 bition, and therefore the very fittest to bring forward as an 
 excuse for their revolt. With every appearance of humility 
 and deference, they offered her the crown j but the proudest 
 and boldest shrank back abashed, before the flashing eye 
 and proud majesty of demeanor with which she answered, 
 < The crown is not yours to bestow ; it is held by Henry, ac 
 cording to the laws alike of God and man ; and till his death, 
 you have no right to bestow, nor I to receive it." $ 
 
 But though firm in this resolution, Isabella did not refuse 
 to coincide in their plans for securing her succession. To 
 this measure Henry himself consented, thus appearing tacitly 
 to acknowledge the truth of the reports that Joanna was a 
 surreptitious child, and for a brief period Castile was deliv 
 ered from the horrors of war. Once declared heiress of 
 Castile and Leon, Isabella s hand was sought by many noble 
 suitors, and her choice fell on Ferdinand, the young King of 
 Sicily, and heir-apparent to the crown of Arragon. Love 
 was Isabella s incentive. Prudence, and a true patriotic am 
 bition, urged the Archbishop of Toledo not only to ratify 
 the choice, but to smooth every difficulty in their way ; he 
 saw at once the glory which might accrue to Spain by this 
 peaceful union of two rival thrones. Every possible and 
 impossible obstacle was privately thrown by Henry to pre 
 vent this union, even while he gave publicly his consent ; his 
 prejudice against Ferdinand being immovable and deadly. 
 But the manoeuvres of the Archbishop were more skilful 
 than those of the King. The royal lovers for such they 
 really were were secretly united at Valladolid, to reach 
 which place in safety Ferdinand had been compelled to 
 travel in disguise, and attended only by four cavaliers ; and 
 at that period so straitened were "the circumstances of tho 
 Prince and Princess, wbo afterwards possessed the boundlos- 
 2 
 
26 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 treasures of the ffew world, that they were actually com 
 pelled to borrow money to defray the expenses of their wed 
 ding ! 
 
 The moment Henry became aware of this marriage, the 
 civil struggle recommenced. In vain the firm, yet pacific 
 Archbishop of Toledo recalled the consent he had given, and 
 Droved that the union not only secured the after-gltfry of 
 Spain, but Henry s present undisturbed possession of his 
 throne. Urged on by his wife, and his intriguing favorite, 
 the Marquis of Villena, who was for ever changing sides, he 
 published a manifesto, in which he declared on oath that he 
 believed Joanna to be his daughter, and proclaimed her 
 heiress of Castile. Ferdinand and Isabella instantly raised 
 an army, regardless of the forces of Portugal (to whose 
 monarch Joanna had been betrothed), who were rapidly ad 
 vancing to the assistance of Henry. Ere, however, war had 
 regularly commenced, a brief respite was obtained by the 
 death of Henry, and instantly and unanimously Isabella was 
 proclaimed Queen of Leon and Castile. Peace, however, 
 was not instantly regained ; the King of Portugal married 
 Joanna, and resolved on defending her rights. Some skir 
 mishing took place, and at length a long-sustained conflict 
 near Fero decided the point Ferdinand and the Castilians 
 were victorious ; the King of Portugal made an honorable 
 retreat to his own frontiers, and the Marquis of Villena, the 
 head of the malcontents, and by many supposed to be the 
 real father of Joanna, submitted to Isabella. Peace thus 
 dawned for Castile ; but it was not till three years after 
 wards, when Ferdinand had triumphed over the enemies of 
 Arragon, and succeeded his father as Sovereign of that 
 kingdom, that any vigorous measures could be taken for the 
 restoration of internal order. 
 
 The petty Sovereignties of the Peninsular, with the sole 
 exception of the mountainous district of Navarre, and the 
 Moorish territories in the south, were now all united ; and 
 it was the sagacious ambition of Ferdinand and Isabella to 
 render Spain as important in the scale of kingdoms as any 
 other European territory ; and to do this, they knew, de 
 manded as firm a control over their own subjects, as the 
 subjection of still harassing foes. 
 
 Above a century had elapsed since Spain had been ex- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 27 
 
 posed to the sway of weak or evil kings, and all the conse 
 quent miseries of misrule and war. Rapine, outrage, and 
 murder had become so frequent and unchecked, as frequently 
 to interrupt commerce, by preventing all communication be 
 tween one place and another. The people acknowledged no 
 law but their own passions. The nobles were so engrossed 
 with hatred of each other, and universal contempt of their 
 late sovereign, with personal ambition and general discontent, 
 that they had little time or leisure to attend to any but their 
 own interest. But a very brief interval convinced both 
 nobles and people that a new era was dawning for them. In 
 the short period of eighteen months, the wise administration 
 of Isabella and Ferdinand, had effected a sufficient change to 
 startle all ranks into the conviction that their best interests 
 lay in prompt obedience, and in exerting themselves in their 
 several spheres, to second the sovereign s will. The chivalrio 
 qualities of Ferdinand, his undoubted wisdom and unwaver 
 ing firmness, excited both love and fear; while devotion itself 
 is not too strong a term to express the national feeling en 
 tertained toward Isabella. Her sweet, womanly gentleness, 
 blended as it was with the dignity of the sovereign ; her 
 ready sympathy in all that concerned her people for the 
 lowest of her subjects ; doing justice, even if it were the 
 proud noble who injured, and the serf that suffered all was 
 so strange, yet fraught with such national repose, that her in 
 fluence every year increased ; while every emotion of chivalry 
 found exercise, and yet rest in the heart of the aristocracy for 
 their Queen ; her simple word would be obeyed, on the in 
 stant, by men who would have paused, and weighed, and 
 reasoned, if any other even Ferdinand himself had spoken. 
 Isabella knew her power ; and if ever sovereign used it for 
 the good, the happiness of her people, that proud glory was 
 her own, 
 
 In spite of the miserable condition of the people during 
 the civil struggles, the wealth of Spain had not decreased. 
 It was protected and increased by a class of people whose 
 low and despised estate was, probably, their safeguard these 
 were the Jews, who for many centuries had, both publicly and 
 secretly, resided in Spain. There were many classes of this 
 peorle in the land, scattered alike over Castile, Leon, Arragon, 
 
28 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 Navarre, and also in the Moorish territories ; some there were 
 confined to the mystic learning and profound studies of the 
 schools, whence they sent many deeply learned men to other 
 countries, where their worth and wisdom gained them yet 
 greater regard than they received in Spain : others were low 
 and degraded in outward seeming, yet literally holding and 
 guiding the financial and commercial interests of the king 
 dom ; whose position was of the lowest scorned and hated 
 by the very people who yet employed them, and exposed to 
 insult from every class ; the third, and by far the largest 
 body of Spanish Jews, were those who, Israelites in secret, 
 were so completely Catholic in seeming, that the court, the 
 camp, the council, even the monasteries themselves, counted 
 them amongst them. And this had been the case for years 
 we should say for centuries and yet so inviolable was the 
 faith pledged to each other, so awful the dangers around 
 them, were even suspicion excited, that the fatal secret never 
 transpired ; offices of state, as well as distinctions of honor, 
 were frequently conferred on men who, had their faith or 
 race been suspected, would have been regarded as the scum 
 of the earth, and sentenced to torture and death, for daring 
 to pass for what they were not. At the period of which we 
 write, the fatal enemy to the secret Jews of more modern 
 times, known as the Holy Office, did not exist ; but a secret 
 and terrible tribunal there was, whose power and extent were 
 unknown to the Sovereigns of the land. 
 
 The Inquisition is generally supposed to have been found 
 ed by Ferdinand and Isabella, about the year 1480 or 82; 
 but a deeper research informs us that it had been introduced 
 into Spain several centuries earlier, and obtained great in 
 fluence in Arragon. Confiding in the protection of the papal 
 see, the Inquisitors set no bounds to their ferocity : secret in 
 formations, imprisonments, tortures, midnight assassinations, 
 marked their proceedings ; but they overreached themselves. 
 All Spain, setting aside petty rivalships, rose up against them. 
 All who should give them encouragement or assistance were 
 declared traitors to their country; the very lives of the In 
 quisitors and their families were, in the first burst of fury, 
 endangered ; but after a time, imagining they had sunk into 
 harmless insignificance, their oppressors desisted in their 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 29 
 
 efforts against them, and were guilty of the unpardonable 
 error of not exterminating them entirely.* 
 
 According to the popular belief, the dreaded tribunal 
 slept, and so soundly, they feared not, imagined not its 
 awakening. They little knew that its subterranean halls 
 were established near almost all the principal cities, and that 
 its engines were often at work, even, in the palaces of kings. 
 Many a family wept the loss of a beloved member, they knew 
 not, guessed not how for those who once entered those fatal 
 walls were never permitted to depart ; so secret were their 
 measures, that even the existence of this fearful mockery of 
 Justice and Religion was not known, or at that time it would 
 have been wholly eradicated. Superstition had not then 
 gained the ascendency which in after years so tarnished the 
 glory of Spain, and opened the wide gates to the ruin and 
 debasement under which she labors now. The fierce wars 
 and revolutions ravaging the land had given too many, and 
 too favorable opportunities for the exercise of this secret 
 power ; but still, regard for their own safety prevented the 
 more public display of their office, as ambition prompted. 
 The vigorous proceedings of Ferdinand and Isabella render 
 ed them yet more wary ; and little did the Sovereigns suspect 
 that in their very courts this fatal power held sway. The 
 existence of this tribunal naturally increased the dangers 
 environing the Israelites who were daring enough to live 
 amongst the Catholics as one of them ; but o f this particular 
 danger they themselves were not generally aware, and their 
 extraordinary skill in the concealment of their faith (to every 
 item of which they yet adhered) baffled, except in a very few 
 instances, even these ministers of darkness. 
 
 * Stockdale s History of the Inquisition. 
 
SO THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " In war did never lion rage more fierce 
 In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, 
 Than was that young and princely gentleman." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE wars ravaging Spain had nursed many a gallant war 
 rior, and given ample opportunities for the possession and 
 display of those chivalric qualities without which, in that age, 
 no manly character was considered perfect. The armies of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella counted some of the noblest names 
 and most valiant knights of Christendom. The Spanish 
 chivalry had always been famous, and when once organized 
 under a leader of such capacity and firmness as Ferdinand ; 
 when the notice and regard of the Queen they idolized could 
 only be obtained by manly virtue as well as the warrior s 
 ardor, a new spirit seemed to wake within them ; petty rival- 
 ships and jealousies were laid aside, all they sought was to 
 become distinguished ; and never had chivalry shone with so 
 pure and glorious a lustre in the court of Spain as then, 
 when, invisibly and unconsciously, it verged on its decline. 
 
 It was amongst all this blaze of chivalry that Arthur 
 Stanley had had ample opportunity to raise, in his own per 
 son, the martial glory of his own still much loved and deeply 
 regretted land. Ferdinand had honored him with so large a 
 portion of his coveted regard, that no petty feelings on the 
 part of the Spaniards, because he was a stranger, could in 
 terfere with his advancement; his friends, however, were 
 mostly among the Arragonese ; to Isabella, and the Castili- 
 ans, he was only known as a valiant young warrior, and a 
 marked favorite of the king. There was one person, how 
 ever, whom the civil contentions of Spain had so brought for 
 ward, that his name was never spoken, either in council, 
 court, or camp ; palace or hut by monarch or captive, soldier 
 Or citizen without a burst of such warm and passionate 
 attachment that it was almost strange how any single indi 
 vidual, and comparatively speaking, in a private station. 
 could so have won the hearts of thousands. Yet it had been 
 
OB, THE MARTYR. 31 
 
 gradually that tins pre-eminence had been attained gradu 
 ally, and entirely by the worth of its object. At the early 
 age of sixteen, and as page to G-onzalos de Lara, Ferdinand 
 Morales had witnessed with all the enthusiasm of a pecu 
 liarly ardent, though outwardly quiet nature, the exciting 
 proceedings at Avila. His youth, his dignified mien, his 
 earnestness, perhaps even his striking beauty, attracted the 
 immediate attention of the young Alfonso, and a bond of 
 union of reciprocal affection from that hour linked the youths 
 together. It is useless arguing on the folly and frivolity of 
 such rapid attachments ; there are those with whom one day 
 will be sufficient, not only to awaken, but to rivet, those 
 mysterious sympathies which are the undying links of friend 
 ship ; and others again, with whom we may associate inti 
 mately for months nay, years and yet feel we have not 
 one thought in common, nor formed one link to sever which 
 is pain. 
 
 During Alfonso s brief career, Ferdinand Morales dis 
 played personal qualities, and a wisdom and faithfulness in 
 his cause, well deserving not only the prince s love, but the 
 confidence of all those who were really Alfonso s friends. 
 His deep grief and ill-concealed indignation at the prince s 
 mysteriously sudden death might, for the time, have obtained 
 him enemies, and endangered his own life ; but the favor of 
 Isabella, whom it was then the policy of the confederates to 
 conciliate in all things possible, protected and advanced him. 
 The love borne by the Infanta for her young brother sur 
 passed even the tenderest affection of such relatives ; all 
 who had loved and served him were dear to her ; and at a 
 time when so much of treachery and insidious policy lurked 
 around her, even in the garb of seeming devotion to her 
 cause, the unwavering fidelity and straightforward conduct 
 of Morales, combined as it was with his deep affection for 
 Alfonso, permitted her whole mind to rest on him, secure 
 not only of his faithfulness, but of vigilance which would 
 discover and counteract every evil scheming of seeming 
 friends. Her constantly chosen messenger to Ferdinand, he 
 became known and trusted by both that prince and his na 
 tive subjects. His wealth, which seemed exhaustless, inde 
 pendent of his preferments, was ever at the service of either 
 Isabella or her betrothed ; he it was from whom the neces- 
 
32 
 
 Bary means for her private nuptials were borrowed. At that 
 scene he was, of course, present, and, at his own desire, es 
 corted Ferdinand back to his own domains an honorable 
 but most dangerous office, performed with his usual unwaver 
 ing fidelity and skill. That one so faithful in adversity 
 should advance from post to post as soon as dawning pros 
 perity permitted Isabella and Ferdinand to reward merit af 
 well as to evince gratitude, was not surprising ; but no royai 
 favor, no coveted honors, no extended power, could alter one 
 tittle of his single-hearted truth his unrestrained intercourse 
 with and interest in his equals, were they of the church 
 court, or camp his gentle and unassuming manner to his 
 inferiors. It was these things that made him so universally 
 beloved. The coldest natures, if thrown in contact with him, 
 unconsciously to themselves kindled into warmth ; vice itself 
 could not meet the glance of that piercing eye without 
 shrinking, for the moment, in loathing from itself. 
 
 Until Isabella and Ferdinand were firmly established on 
 the throne, and Arragon and Castile united, there had been 
 little leisure amongst their warriors to think of domestic ties, 
 otherwise it might perhaps have been noticed as somewhat 
 remarkable that Ferdinand Morales appeared to stand alone ; 
 kindred, indeed, he claimed with four or five of the noblest 
 amongst the Castiiians, but he seemed to have no near rela 
 tive ; and though he mingled courteously, and to some young 
 hearts far too pleasingly, amongst Isabella s court, it seemed 
 as if he would never stoop to love. The Queen often jested 
 him on his apparent insensibility, and entreating him to wed. 
 At first he had smiled away such words ; but two or three 
 months after the commencement of our tale, he acknowledged 
 that his affections had been for some years engaged to one 
 living so completely in retirement as to be unknown to all ; 
 he had but waited till peace had dawned for Spain, and he 
 might offer her not only his love, but a secure and quiet 
 home. He spoke in confidence, and Isabella, woman-like, 
 had listened with no little interest, giving her royal approval 
 of his choice, without knowing more than his own words re 
 vealed ; but feeling convinced, she said, that Ferdinand 
 Morales would never wed one whose birth or lineage would 
 tarnish his pure Castilian blood, or endanger the holy faith 
 of which he was so true a member. A red flush might have 
 
OR 
 
 33 
 
 stained the cheek of the warrior at these words, but the deep 
 obeisance with which he had departed from the royal pres 
 ence concealed the unwonted emotion. Ere a year from that 
 time elapsed, not only the ancient city of Segovia, where his 
 large estates lay, but all Castile were thrown into a most 
 unusual state of excitement by the marriage of the popular 
 idol, Don Ferdinand Morales, with a young and marvellously 
 lovely girl, whom few, if any, had ever seen before, and whose 
 very name, Donna Marie Henriquez, though acknowledged 
 as essentially Castilian, was yet unfamiliar. The mystery, 
 however, as to who she was, and where he could have found 
 her, was speedily lost in the universal admiration of her ex 
 ceeding and remarkable loveliness, and of the new yet equally 
 attractive character which, as a devoted husband, Morales 
 thenceforward displayed. Many had imagined that he was 
 too grave, too wrapt in his many engrossing duties, alike as 
 statesman and general, ever to play the lover ; and he had 
 seemed resolved that this impression should remain, and 
 shrunk from the exposure of such sacred feelings ; for none, 
 save Isabella, knew he loved until they saw his bride. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " And we have won a bower of refuge now 
 In this fresh waste." 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 THE Yale of Cedars, as described in our first chapter, had 
 been originally the work of a single individual, who had 
 found there a refuge and concealment from the secret power 
 of the Inquisition, from whose walls he had almost miracu 
 lously escaped : this individual was Julien Henriquez, the 
 grandfather of Marie. For five years he remained conceal 
 ed, working unaided, but successfully, in forming a comfort 
 able home and concealed retreat, not only for himself but for 
 his family. Nature herself appeared to have marked the 
 spot as an impenetrable retreat, and Julien s skill and ener- 
 2* 
 
34 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 gy increased and strengthened the natural barriers. During 
 these five years the secret search for his person, at first car 
 ried on so vigilantly that his enemies supposed nothing but 
 death could have concealed him, gradually relaxed, and then 
 subsided altogether. Foes and friends alike believed him 
 dead, and when he did re-appear in the coarse robe, shroud 
 ing cowl, and hempen belt, of a wandering friar, he traversed 
 the most populous towns in safety, unrecognized and unsus 
 pected. It was with some difficulty he found his family, and 
 a matter of no little skill to convey them, without exciting 
 suspicion by their disappearance, to his retreat ; but all was 
 accomplished at length, and years of domestic felicity crown 
 ed every former effort, and inspired and encouraged more. 
 
 Besides his own immediate family, consisting of his wife, 
 a son, and daughter, Henriquez had the charge of two 
 nephews and a niece, children of his sister, whose husband 
 had perished by the arm of the same secret power from which 
 Henriquez had escaped ; their mother had died of a broken 
 heart, from the fearful mystery of her husband s fate, and 
 the orphans were to Julien as his own. 
 
 As years passed, the Vale of Cedars became not only a 
 safe, but a luxurious home. Every visit to the world Julien 
 turned to profit, by the purchase first of necessaries, then of 
 luxuries. The little temple was erected by the active aid of 
 the young men, and the solemn rites of their peculiar faith 
 adhered to in security. Small as the family was, deaths, 
 marriages, and births took place, and feelings and sympathies 
 were excited, and struggles secretly endured, making that 
 small spot of earth in very truth a world. The cousins inter 
 married. Ferdinand and Josephine left the vale for a more 
 stirring life ; Manuel, Henriquez s own son, and Miriam, his 
 niece, preferred the quiet of the vale. Julien, his nephew, 
 too, had loved ; but his cousin s love was given to his brother, 
 and he departed, unmurmuringly indeed, but he dared not 
 yet trust himself to associate calmly with the object of his 
 love : he had ever been a peculiarly sad and silent boy ; the 
 fate of his father never for an instant seemed to leave his 
 mind, and he had secretly vowed to avenge him. Love, for a 
 while, had banished these thoughts ; but when that returned 
 in all the misery of isolation to his own breast, former thoughts. 
 >sgamed dominion, and he tried to conquer the one feeling by 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 35 
 
 thfc encouragement of the other. His brother and his wife 
 constantly visited the vale ; if at no other time, almost al 
 ways at those solemn festivals which generally fell about the 
 period of the Catholic Easter and Michaelmas ; often accom 
 panied by faithful friends, holding the same mysterious bond 
 of brotherhood, and to whom the secret of that vale was as 
 precious and secure as to its natural inmates. Its aged foun 
 der had frequently the happiness of gathering around him from 
 twenty to thirty of his secret race, and of feeling that his 
 work would benefit friends as well as offspring. Julien 
 alone never returned to the vale, and his family at length 
 mourned him as one amongst the dead. 
 
 The career of his brother was glorious but brief; he fell 
 fighting for his country, and his widow and young son returned 
 to the parental retreat. Though the cousins had married the 
 same day, the son of Ferdinand was ten years older than his 
 cousin Marie ; Manuel and Miriam having lived twelve 
 years together ere the longed-for treasure was bestowed. At 
 first, therefore, she had been to the youthful Ferdinand but 
 as a plaything, to pet and laugh with : he left the vale as 
 page to his father s companion in arms, Gonzalos de Lara, 
 when Marie was little more than five years old ; but still his 
 love for her and his home was such that whenever it was pos 
 sible, he would snatch if it were but half a day to visit them. 
 Gradually, and to him it seemed almost strangely, the play 
 thing child changed into the graceful girl, and then again 
 into the lovely woman ; and dearer than ever became his boy 
 hood s home, though years had snatched away so many of 
 its beloved inmates, that, at the period of our story, its sole 
 occupants were Marie and her father. 
 
 Had her mother lived, perchance Marie had never been ex 
 posed to the dangers of an introduction to the world. Be 
 trothed, in the secret hearts of not only her own parents, but 
 of Ferdinand s mother, to her cousin, if she lived to attain 
 sufficient age, Miriam would not have thought it so impossi 
 ble as Manuel did, that the affections of his child might be 
 sought for by, and given to another, if she mingled with the 
 world ; she would at least have waited till she was Ferdi 
 nand s wedded wife, and then sent her forth secure. But such 
 subtle fears and feelings are peculiarly woman s ; not the 
 *-enderest, most devoted father, could of himself have either 
 
3b THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 thought of. or understood them. He might perhaps have 
 owned their justice had they been presented to him by the 
 affectionate warnings of an almost idolized wife ; but that 
 voice was hushed, her sweet counsels buried in the grave ; 
 and the fond, proud father, only thought of his child s bril 
 liant beauty, and how she would be admired and beloved, 
 could she be but generally known. And so, for her sake, he 
 actually did violence to his own love for the quiet retirement 
 of the vale, and bore her to the care of Donna Emilie de Cas 
 tro ; seeing nothing, feeling nothing, but the admiration she 
 excited, and that she was indeed the loveliest there. One 
 wish he had, and that was, that his nephew could have been 
 there likewise ; but being engaged at that time on some impor 
 tant private business for the Queen, Ferdinand did not even 
 know that his cousin had ever left the vale. 
 
 That his child s affections could be excited towards any 
 but those of her own race was a circumstance so impossible, 
 and moreover a sin so fearful, that it never entered Manuel s 
 mind : he knew not woman s nature, dreamed not of its 
 quick impulses, its passionate yearnings, its susceptibility to 
 wards all gentle emotions, or he could not have so trustingly 
 believed in the power of her peculiar faith and creed to 
 guard her from the danger. Even his dearest desire that 
 she should become the wife o her cousin she knew not ; for 
 the father shrunk from revealing it to either his child or ne 
 phew, unless Ferdinand loved and sought her himself. What 
 therefore had she to warn her from the precipice on which 
 she stood, when new, strange, yet most exquisitely sweet emo 
 tions gradually obtained possession of her heart in her daily 
 intercourse with Arthur Stanley ? What they were indeed 
 she knew not ; the word love was never uttered by either ; 
 she only knew that his presence, his voice, the pressure of 
 his hand, brought with it a thrilling sensation of intense hap 
 piness, such as she had never known, never imagined before. 
 It was indeed but a brief dream, for when he spoke, when he 
 besought her to be his, then indeed she woke to conscious 
 ness, not only that she loved, but of the dark and fatal bar 
 rier between them, which no human effort could o erleap. 
 The sacrifice of race, of faith, of family, indeed might be 
 made ; but to do this never entered the mind and heart of 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 37 
 
 Marie, so utterly was it impossible. To her peculiar feelings 
 it was sin enough thus to have loved. 
 
 Manuel Henriquez bore his child back to the vale, little 
 dreaming of the anguish to which his unguarded love had 
 exposed her. She had ever been rather a pensive and gen 
 tle girl, and therefore that she should be still serious was no 
 matter of surprise. For fifteen months she had sought to 
 banish every dream of Arthur, every thought but that in lov 
 ing him she had sinned against her G-od. Time and prayer 
 had in some measure softened the first acute agony of her 
 feelings ; she thought she was conquering them altogether, 
 when his unexpected appearance excited every feeling anew. 
 Yet in that harrowing interview still she had been firm. 
 She had even told him a secret, which it was almost death to 
 reveal, that he might forget her ; for how could he wed with 
 her ? And yet even that barrier he would have passed, and 
 his generous, his determined love, would linger on her mem 
 ory spite of every effort to think of him no more. 
 
 It was a fearful struggle, and often and often she yearned 
 to confess all to her father, whom she loved with no common 
 love ; but she knew too well, not only the grief such tidings 
 would be to him, but what his judgment must be, and she 
 shrunk in agony from the condemnation of her feelings by 
 another, constantly as she was condemning them herself. 
 
 Henriquez had been absent from the vale during Stan 
 ley s unexpected visit, and he tarried long enough to excite 
 the alarm, not only of his child but of their domestics ; nor 
 was its cause when explained likely to ease Marie s anxiety. 
 He had been attacked on the day of his intended return by 
 a strange sensation of giddiness, followed by insensibility, 
 which appeared to have weakened him more than he had 
 thought compatible with so brief an illness. He made light of 
 it, but still he was uneasy, not that he feared death himself, 
 but that it might take him from his Marie ere his wishes were 
 accomplished, and her earthly happiness, as he thought, se 
 cured. The first attack was but the forerunner of others, 
 sometimes very slight and brief, at others longer and more 
 alarming, rendering Marie more and more determined to 
 keep her fatal secret from him ; for it appeared to her that 
 any stronger emotion than customary would be followed by 
 those attacks ; and as her love for him seemed to increase in 
 
38 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 intensity with the anxiety his precarious health occasioned, 
 so did her dread of occasioning him aught of grief. But how 
 fruitless are our best and wisest resolutions! One little 
 hour, and every thought was changed. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Oh ! praise me not 
 Look gently on me, or I sink to earth 
 Not thus." 
 
 DE CHATILLON. 
 
 lr was the custom of the inmates of the Yale of Cedars, on.-e 
 in every year, and generally about the season of Michaelmas, 
 to celebrate a festival, which ordained the erection of a booth 
 or tent of " branches of thick trees," in which for seven days 
 every meal was taken, and greater part of the day (except the 
 time passed in the little Temple) was spent. Large branches 
 of the palm and cedar, the willow, acacia, and the oak, cut so 
 as to prevent their withering for the seven days, formed the 
 walls of the tent ; their leaves intermingling over head, so as 
 to form a shelter, and yet permit the beautiful blue of the 
 heavens to peep within. Flowers of every shade and scent 
 formed a bordering within ; and bouquets, richly and taste 
 fully arranged, placed in vases filled with scented earth, hung 
 from the branches forming the roof. Fruit, too, was there 
 the purple grape, the ripe red orange, the paler lemon, the 
 lime, the pomegranate, the citron, all of which the vale afford 
 ed, adorned the board (which for those seven days was always 
 spread within the tent), intermingled with cakes made by 
 Marie. 
 
 This was one of the festivals for which many of the secret 
 race would visit the vale ; but it so happened that, this year, 
 Manuel, his child, and their retainers, kept it alone a source 
 of disappointment and anxiety to the former, whose health 
 was rapidly (but still to his child almost invisibly) failing. 
 \t the close of the solemn fast which always preceded }>y 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 39 
 
 five days this festival of rejoicing, he had had a recurrence 
 of his deathlike fits of insensibility, longer and more alarm 
 ing than usual; but he had rallied, and attributed it sc 
 naturally to his long fast, that alarm once more gave place 
 to hope in the heart of his daughter. Not thus, however, 
 felt her father convinced that death could not be long de 
 layed, he but waited for his nephew s appearance and acknow 
 ledged love for his cousin, at once to give her to him, and 
 prepare her for the worst. Parental anxiety naturally in 
 creased with every hour that passed, and Ferdinand appeared 
 not. 
 
 It was the eve of the Sabbath ; one from which in general 
 all earthly cares and thoughts were banished, giving place 
 to tranquil and spiritual joy. The father and daughter were 
 alone within their lovely tent, but both so wrapt in evidently 
 painful thought, that a strange silence usurped the usual 
 cheerful converse. So unwonted was the anxious gloom on 
 Manuel s brow, that his child could bear it no longer, and 
 flinging her arr f s round his neck, she besought him in the 
 tenderest accents to confide in her, as he had ever done, 
 since her mother s death, to tell her what so pained him 
 might she not remove it ? Henriquez could not resist that 
 fond yet mournful pleading. He told her, that he felt health 
 was departing, that death seemed ever hovering near, but 
 that its pain, its care, would all depart, could he behold his 
 long-cherished wish fulfilled, and his Marie the wife of Fer 
 dinand, whose every look and tone during his last visit had 
 betrayed his devoted love. 
 
 Marie heard ; and her cheek and lips blanched to such 
 ashy whiteness, that her father in alarm folded her to his 
 breast ; and sought to soothe a grief, which he believed was 
 occasioned merely by the sudden and fearful thought of his 
 approaching death ; and sought to soothe, by a reference to 
 the endearing love, the cherished tenderness which would 
 still be hers ; how Ferdinand would be to her all, aye more 
 than all that he had been, and how, with love like his, she 
 would be happier than she had been yet. Much he said, and 
 he might have said still more, for it was long ere the startled 
 girl could interrupt him. But when he conjured her to speak 
 to him, not to look upon his death so fearfully, the beautiful 
 truth of her nature rose up against the involuntary deceit 
 
40 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 It was not his death which thus appalled her ; alas alas ! 
 and she hated herself for the fearful thought she had almost 
 lost sight of that, in the words which followed. Breaking 
 from his embrace, she sunk down on her knees before him, 
 and burying her face upon his hand, in broken accents and 
 with choking sobs, revealed the whole. How could she do 
 her noble kinsman such fearful wrong as to wed him, when 
 her whole heart, thoughts, nay, life itself, seemed wrapt in 
 the memory of another ? And that other ! Oh ! who, what 
 was he ? Once she looked up in her father s face, but so 
 fearful were the emotions written there wrath struggling 
 with love, grief, pity, almost terror that hastily she with 
 drew her glance, and remained kneeling, bent even to the 
 dust, long after the confession had been poured forth, wait 
 ing in fear and anguish for his words. 
 
 " Marie, Marie ! is it my Marie, my sainted Miriam s 
 child, who thus speaks 1 who hath thus sinned sole represen 
 tative of a race of ages, in whose pure thoughts such fearful 
 sin hath never mingled. My child so to love the stranger 
 as to reject, to scorn her own ! Oh God, my God, why hast 
 thou so forsaken me ? Would I had died before !" And 
 the heavy groan which followed, confirmed the anguish 
 breathed in those broken words. 
 
 " Father !" implored the unhappy girl, clasping his knees 
 in an agony of supplication, though she raised not her head 
 " Oh my father ! in mercy do not speak thus ! Words of 
 wrath, of reproach, fearful as they are from thee, yet I can 
 bear them, but not such woe ! Oh, think what I have borne, 
 what I must still bear. If I have sinned, my sin will bring, 
 nay, it has already brought its own chastisement. Speak to 
 me i but one word of love or, if it must be, wrath but 
 not, not such accents of despair I" 
 
 Her father struggled to reply ; but the conflux of strong 
 emotion was too powerful, and Marie sprung up to support 
 him as he fell. She had often seen him insensible before, 
 when there appeared no cause for such attacks ; but was it 
 strange that at such a moment she should feel that sJie had 
 caused it? that her sin perchance had killed her father; he 
 might never wake more to say he forgave, he blessed her, 
 or that in those agonized moments of suspense she vowed, il 
 he might but speak again, that his will should be hers, even 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 
 
 41 
 
 did it demand the annihilation of every former treasured 
 thought ! And the vow seemed heard. Gradually and, it ap 
 peared, painfully life returned. His first action was to clasp 
 her convulsively to his heart ; his next, to put her gently yet 
 firmly from him, and bury his face in his hands, and weep. 
 
 No sight is more terrible, even to an indifferent spectator, 
 than to behold tears wrung from the eyes of man and to 
 his child it was indeed torture. But she controlled the cho 
 king anguish calmly and firmly she spoke, and gradually 
 the paroxysm subsided. 
 
 " That I have sinned in loving a stranger thus, I have 
 long felt," she said; " and had I been aware of the nature of 
 these feelings, they should never have gained ascendency. 
 But I awoke too late my very being was enchained. Still 
 I may break from these engrossing thoughts I would do^so 
 pain shall be welcome, if it may in time atone for the in 
 voluntary sin of loving the stranger, and the yet more terri 
 ble one of grieving thee. Oh, my father, do what thou wilt, 
 command me as thou wilt I am henceforth wholly thine." 
 " And thou wilt wed Ferdinand, my child ?" 
 " Would he still wish it, father, if he knew the whole ? 
 And is it right, is it just, to wed him, and the truth still un- 
 revealed? Oh, if he do love me, as you say, how can I requite 
 him by deceit?" 
 
 " Tell him not, tell him not," replied Henriquez, again 
 fearfully agitated; "let none other know what has been. 
 What can it do, save to grieve him beyond thy power to re 
 pair ? No, no. Once his, and all these fearful thoughts will 
 pass away, and their sin be blotted out, in thy true faithful 
 ness to one who loves thee. His wife, and I know that thou 
 wilt love him, and be true, as if thou hadst never loved 
 another " 
 
 " Ay, could I not be true, I would not wed," murmured 
 Marie, more to herself than to her father ; " and if suffering 
 indeed atone for sin, terribly will it be redeemed. But oh, 
 my father, tell me I have sworn to be guided by thee, and 
 in all things I will be tell me, in wedding him whom thou 
 hast chosen, do I not still do foul wrong, if not to him .(her 
 voice faltered), unto another, whose love is mine as well ?" 
 
 " Better for him, as for thee, to wed another, Marie ! 
 Would st thou wed the stranger, wert thou free ?" 
 
42 
 
 She buried her face in his bosom, and murmured, "Never I" 
 " Then in what can this passion end, but in misery for 
 both ? In constant temptation to perjure thy soul, in for 
 saking all for him. And if thou didst, would it bring happi 
 ness? My child, thou art absolved, even had aught of 
 promise passed between you. Knowest thou not that a 
 maiden of herself hath no power to vow ? Her father s will 
 alone absolves it or confirms. Thou doest him no wrong, 
 Be Ferdinand s bride, and all shall be forgiven, all forgotten 
 thou art my child, my Miriam s child once more !" 
 
 He pressed her again fondly to him ; but though she made 
 no ieply, his arguments could not convince her. She had 
 indeed told Arthur that she never could be his, but yet 
 avowed that she loved him ; and if he did meet her as the 
 wife of another, what must he believe her? And Ferdinand, 
 if he did so love her, that preoccupied heart was indeed a sad 
 requital. She had, however, that evening but little time to 
 think, for ere either spoke again, the branches at the entrance 
 of the tent were hastily pushed aside, and a tall manly form 
 stood upon the threshold. Marie sprang to her feet with a 
 faint cry could it be that the vow of an hour was already 
 called upon to be fulfilled ? but the intruder attributed her 
 alarm to a different cause, and hastily flinging off his wrap 
 ping mantle and deep plumed morion, he exclaimed, " What ! 
 alarmed by me, my gentle cousin ? dearest Marie ! am I for 
 gotten ?" And Henriquez, forgetting all of bodily exhaustion, 
 all of mental suffering, in the deep joy his sudden appear 
 ance caused, could only fold the warrior in his feeble arms, 
 and drooping his head on his shoulder, sob forth expressively, 
 " My son ! my sen !" 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 43 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " And thus how oft do life and death 
 
 Twine hand in hand together ; 
 And the funeral shroud, and bridal wreath, 
 How small a space may sever !" 
 
 MS. 
 
 \ 
 
 ONE little week did Ferdinand spend within the home of his 
 boyhood ; and in that brief interval the earthly fate of Marie 
 Henriquez was decided. He had deferred his visit till such 
 peace and prosperity had dawned for Spain, that he could 
 offer his bride not only a home suited to his rank, but the 
 comfort of his presence and protection for an indeterminate 
 time. He had come there purposely to reveal his long-che 
 rished love ; to conjure Marie to bless him with the promise 
 of her hand ; and, if successful, to return, in two short 
 months, for the celebration of their marriage, according to 
 their own secret rites, ere the ceremony was performed in 
 the sight of the whole Catholic world. The intermarriages of 
 first cousins had been so common an occurrence in his family, 
 that Ferdinand, in spite of some tremblings, as a lover, had 
 regarded his final union with Marie with almost as much 
 certainty, and as a thing of course, as his uncle himself. 
 
 The effects of that agitating interview between father and 
 daughter had been visible to Ferdinand; but he attributed 
 it, very naturally, to the cause privately assigned for it by 
 his kinsman Marie s first conviction that her father s days 
 were numbered. He had been greatly shocked at the change 
 in Henriquez s appearance, and deeply affected at the solemn 
 and startling earnestness with which he consigned his child 
 to his care, beseeching him, under all circumstances, to love 
 and cherish her. His nephew could scarcely understand, 
 then, such earnest pleadings. . Alas ! ere his life closed, their 
 cause was clear enough. 
 
 Unconscious that her father and cousin were together, or 
 of the nature of their conversation, Marie had joined them, 
 unexpectedly, ere the interview was over. From her father s 
 
44 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 lips, and in a tone of trembling agitation, she heard that 
 his long-cherished prayer was granted, and that she was his 
 nephew s plighted bride. He joined their hands, blessed 
 them, and left them alone together, ere she had had power 
 to utter a single word ; and when voice was recalled by the 
 tender, earnest accents of her cousin, beseeching her to ratify 
 her father s consent to say she would learn to love him, if she 
 did not then ; that she would not refuse the devotedness he prof 
 fered what could she answer ? She had so long loved him, 
 venerated him, gloried in his achievements, his honors, as of 
 an elder and much-loved brother, that, had she followed the 
 impulse of her nature, she would have thrown herself as a 
 sister on his neck, and poured forth her tale of sorrow. But 
 she had sworn to be guided by her father, and he had besought 
 her to reveal nothing; and therefore she promised to be his, 
 even while with tears she declared herself unworthy. But 
 such words were of little meaning to her enraptured lover 
 save to bid him passionately deny them, and excite his ardent 
 affection more than ever satisfied that she could be not in 
 different, listening as she did, with such flushed cheek and glis 
 tening eye, to the theme of his life since they had parted 
 the favor of the sovereigns, and the station he had won. 
 
 During the two months which intervened between Don 
 Ferdinand s departure and promised return, Marie strained 
 every nerve to face her destiny, and so meet it with calmness. 
 Had she not loved, it would have been impossible to feel 
 herself the cherished object of her cousin s love without 
 returning it, possessing, as he did, alike inward and out 
 ward attraction to win regard. She studiously and earnestly 
 banished every thought of Arthur as it rose ; she prayed 
 only for strength to be faithful, not only in outward seeming 
 but in inward thought ; that Stanley might never cross her 
 path again, or, if he did, that his very affections migkt be 
 estranged from her ; that the secret she had revealed might 
 alone be thought upon, till all of love had gone. The tor 
 ture of such prayer, let those who love decide ; but it was 
 the thought of his woe, did he ever know she was another s 
 bride, that haunted her. Her own suffering it was compari- 
 tively easy to bear, believing as she did, that they were called 
 for by her involuntary sin : but his so successfully had she 
 conquered herself, that it was only when his countenance of 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 45 
 
 reproach would flit before her, that the groan burst from her 
 heart, and she felt bowed unto the earth. 
 
 Infirmity itself seemed conquered in the rejoicing thank 
 fulness with which Henriquez regarded this fulfilment of his 
 wishes. He appeared actually to regain strength and energy; 
 his alarming fainting fits had not recurred since his nephew s 
 visit, and Marie hoped he would be spared her longer than 
 he believed. He never recurred to her confession, but la 
 vished on her, if possible, yet more endearing love, and con 
 stantly alluded to the intense happiness which her consent 
 to be her cousin s bride had given him. Once he left the 
 vale, despite his precarious health, taking with him his old 
 retainer, Reuben, and returned, laden with the richest gems 
 and costliest silks, to adorn his child, on her bridal day, as 
 befitted the bride of Ferdinand. 
 
 Time passed : the day specified by Ferdinand rapidly 
 approached. He was there to meet it and not alone. 
 Thoughtful of his Marie s feeling, he had resolved that she 
 should not stand beside the altar without one female friend ; 
 and he brought one. the sight of whom awakened associa 
 tions with such overpowering strength, that Marie could only 
 throw herself upon her bosom, almost convulsed with tears. 
 It was Donna Emelie de Castro, at whose house she had 
 joined the world ; but her emotion, supposed natural to the 
 agitating ceremony impending, and her father s precarious 
 health, happily for her, passed without further notice than 
 sympathy and love. 
 
 Henriquez, for once, was indifferent alike to the agita 
 tion of Marie, or the presence of Ferdinand. His glance 
 was fiaea on one of a little group, all of whom, with the ex 
 ception of this individual, were familiar to his home and 
 heart. He was clothed as a monk ; but his cowl was thrown 
 back, and his gaze so fixed on Marie that she blushed beneath 
 it, and turned away. 
 
 <l Do not turn from me, my child," he said ; and Henri 
 quez started at the voice, it was so fraught with memories of 
 the departed. " Stranger as I must be, save in name, to 
 thee thou art none such to me. I seem to feel thy mother 
 once again before me and never was sister more beloved ! 
 Manuel, hast thou, indeed, forgotten Julien?" 
 
 Almost ere he ceased to speak, the long separated rela 
 
46 
 
 tives were clasped in each other s arms. The five-and-twenfcy 
 years, which had changed the prime of manhood into advanc 
 ing age, and blanched the hair of each, had had no power to 
 decrease the strong ties of kindred, so powerful in their 
 secret race. The agitation and excitement of Henriquez was 
 so excessive, not only then, but during the few days inter 
 vening before the celebration of the bridal, that Marie, in 
 spite of the near approach of the dreaded day, could only 
 think of him. 
 
 Ferdinand was no exacting lover : his affection for her 
 was so intense, so true ; his confidence in her truth so per 
 fect, that, though he might at times have fancied that she 
 loved not then with fervor equal to his own, he was content 
 ed to believe that his devotion would in time create in her 
 as powerful a feeling. He had so watched, so tended her 
 from infancy : she had so clung to and reverenced him, so 
 opened her young heart, without one reservation, to his view 
 so treated him as her most cherished, most loved friend, 
 that how could he dream she had aught to conceal, or believe 
 that, did she know there was, she could have hesitated, one 
 moment, to refuse his hand, preferring even the misery of 
 so grieving him, to the continued agony of deceit ? It was 
 this perfect confidence, this almost childish trust, so beautiful 
 in one tried, as he had been, in the ordeal of the world, that 
 wrung Marie s heart with deepest torture. He believed her 
 other than she was j but it was too late she dared not un 
 deceive him. 
 
 The nuptial morning dawned. The party, not more than 
 twelve or fourteen in all, assembled within the little edifice, 
 whose nature had so puzzled Arthur. Its interior was as 
 peculiar as its outward appearance : its walls, of polished 
 cedar, we~e unadorned with either carving, pictures, or ima 
 gery. In the centre, facing the east, was a sort of raised 
 table or desk, surrounded by a railing, and covered with a 
 cloth of the richest and most elaborately worked brocade. 
 Exactly opposite, and occupying the centre of the eastern 
 wall, was a sort of lofty chest, or ark ; the upper part of 
 which, arched, and richly painted, with a blue ground, bore 
 in two columns, strange hieroglyphics in gold : beneath this 
 were portals of polished cedar, panelled, and marked out, 
 with gold, but bearing no device; their hinges set in gilded 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 47 
 
 pillars, which supported the arch above. Before these por 
 tals were generally drawn curtains, of material rich and glit 
 tering as that upon the reading-desk. But this day not only 
 were the curtains drawn aside, but the portals themselves 
 flung open, as the bridal party neared the steps which led to 
 it, and disclosed six or seven rolls of parchment, folded on 
 silver pins, and filled with the same strange letters, each 
 clothed in drapery of variously colored brocade, or velvet, and 
 surmounted by two sets of silver ornaments, in which the 
 bell and pomegranate were, though small, distinctly discern 
 ible. A superb lamp, of solid silver, was suspended from 
 the roof; and one of smaller dimensions, but of equally 
 valuable material, and always kept lighted, hung just before 
 the ark. 
 
 Julien Morales, at his own particular request, was to read 
 the ceremony ; and three hours after noon he stood within 
 the portals, on the highest step ; a slab of white marble 
 divided him from the bride and bridegroom, over whom a 
 canopy was raised, supported by four silver poles. The lux 
 uriant hair of the bride had been gathered up, and, save two 
 massive braids, shading her brow and cheek, was concealed 
 under a head-dress, somewhat resembling an eastern turban, 
 but well suited to her countenance. Her dress, of the fashion 
 before described, was all of white the jacket or bodice 
 richly woven with gold threads ; but so thick a veil envelop 
 ed face and form, that her sweet face was concealed, until, at 
 one particular part of the mysterious rite (for such, to the 
 Spaniards, this ceremony must have been), the veil was up 
 lifted for her to taste the sacred wine, and not allowed to fall 
 again. Neither the bridegroom (agitated himself, for his was 
 not a nature to think lightly of the nuptial rite), nor Henri- 
 quez (whose excitement was extreme) was conscious of the 
 looks of alarm, blended with admiration, which the raising 
 of the veil attracted towards Marie. Lovely she was ; but 
 it was the loveliness of a marble statue, not of life her very 
 lips were blanched, and every feature still, indeed ; but a 
 stillness of so peculiar an expression, so inexpressibly, so 
 thrillingly sad, that admiration appeared indefinably and 
 strangely transformed to pain. The wedding ring waa 
 placed upon her hand a thin crystal goblet broken by Fer 
 dinand, on the marble at his feet and the rites were con- 
 
48 
 
 eluded. An almost convulsive embrace from her father 
 the unusual wildness of his voice and manner, as he blessed, 
 and called her his own precious child, who this day had placed 
 the seal upon his happiness, and confirmed twenty years of 
 filial devotedness and love awoke her from that stagnating 
 trance. She folded her arms round his neck, and burst into 
 passionate tears ; and there were none, not even Ferdinand, 
 to chide or doubt that emotion it was but natural to her 
 character, and the solemn service of the day. 
 
 Gay and joyous was the meal which followed the bridal. 
 No appurtenances of modern pomp and luxury, indeed, 
 decoratecPthe board : its only ornaments were the loveliest 
 flowers, arranged in alabaster vases, and silver baskets filled 
 with blushing fruit. The food was simple, and the wines not 
 choice ; but the guests thought not of mere sensual enjoy 
 ment. In these secret meetings, each felt there was some 
 thing holy ; richer homes, more gorgeous feasts, were theirs 
 in the world, whenever they so willed ; but such intercourse 
 of brotherhood seldom occurred, and when it came, was con 
 sequently hallowed. 
 
 Some time they sat around the board ; and so unrestrain 
 ed, so full of varied interest was their eager converse, that 
 sunset came unheeded ; and the silver lamps, fed with sweet 
 incense, were placed upon the table. Julien then arose, and 
 solemnly pronounced the usual blessing, or rather thanks 
 giving, after the bridal feast. Marie did not look up during 
 its continuance; but as it concluded, she arose, and was 
 about to retire with Donna Emilie, when her eye caught her 
 father, and a cry of alarm broke from her. The burning 
 flush had given place to a livid paleness the glittering of 
 the eye to a fixed and glassy gaze. The frame was, for t a 
 moment, rigid as stone, then fearfully convulsed ; and Reu 
 ben, starting forward, caught his master as he fell. There 
 was something so startling and unusual in the seizure, that 
 even those accustomed to his periods of insensibility were 
 alarmed ; and vain was every effort of Ferdinand to awaken 
 hope and comfort in the seemingly frozen spirit of his bride. 
 
 Henriquez was conveyed to his room, and every restora 
 tive applied ; but even the skill of Julien, well versed as he 
 was in the healing art, was without effect. More than an 
 hour passed, and still he lay like death ; and no sound, no 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 49 
 
 sob, broke from the torn heart of his hapless child, who knelt 
 beside his couch ; her large dark eyes, distended to even 
 more than their usual size, fixed upon his face 5 her hands 
 clasped round one of his ; but had she sought thus to give 
 warmth she would have failed, for the hand of the living was 
 cold and damp as that of the seeming dead. 
 
 A slight, almost imperceptible flush floated over that 
 livid cheek the eyes unclosed, but so quickly closed again 
 that it was more like the convulsive quivering of the muscle 
 than the effort of the will ; and Marie alone had marked the 
 change. 
 
 " Father !" she almost shrieked in agony, " in mercy 
 speak to me again say but you forgive bless " 
 
 " Forgive " feebly repeated the dying man ; and the 
 strong feeling of the father, for a brief interval, conquered 
 even death " Forgive ? my beautiful my own ! the word 
 is meaningless, applied to thee. Art thou not my Ferdi 
 nand s bride, and hast thou not so taken the sting, the trial 
 even from this dread moment ? My precious one ! would 
 I could see that face once more but it is dark all dark 
 kiss me, my child !" 
 
 She threw herself upon his bosom, and covered his cheek 
 with kisses. He passed his hand feebly over her face*" as if 
 the touch could once more bring her features to his sight ; 
 and then extending his left hand, feebly called " Ferdi 
 nand !" 
 
 His nephew caught the withered hand, and kneeling 
 clown, pressed it reverentially and fondly to his lips. 
 
 Henriquez s lips moved, but there came no word. 
 
 " Doubt me not, my more than father ! From boyhood 
 to youth, from youth to manhood, I have doted on thy child. 
 Shall I love and cherish her less now, that she has only me ? 
 Oh, trust me ! if devotion can give joy, she will know no 
 grief, that man can avert, again !" 
 
 A strange but a beautiful light for a single minute dis 
 persed the fearful shadow creeping over Henriquez s features. 
 
 " My son ! my son ! I bless thee and thou, too, my 
 drooping flower. Julien ! my brother lay me beside my 
 Miriam. Thou didst not come for this but it is well. My 
 children my friends send up the hymn of praise the 
 
50 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 avowal of our faith ; once more awake the voice of oui 
 fathers !" 
 
 He was obeyed ; a psalm arose, solemn and sweet, in ac 
 cents familiar as their mother tongue, to those who chanted ; 
 but had any other been near, not a syllable would have been 
 intelligible. But the voice which in general led to such 
 solemn service so thrilling in its sweetness, that the most 
 indifferent could not listen to it unmoved now lay hushed 
 and mute, powerless even to breathe the sobs that crushed 
 her heart. And when the psalm ceased, and the prayer for 
 the dying followed, with one mighty effort Henriquez raised 
 himself, and clasping his hands, uttered distinctly the last 
 solemn words ever spoken by his race, and then sunk back 
 and there was silence. Minutes, many minutes, rolled by 
 but Marie moved not. G-ently, and tenderly, Don Ferdi 
 nand succeeded in disengaging the convulsive hold with 
 which she still clasped her parent, and sought to bear her 
 from that sad and solemn room. Wildly she looked up in 
 his face, and then on those beloved features, already fixed 
 and gray in death ; with frantic strength she pushed aside 
 her husband, and sunk down by her father s side. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Slight are the outward signs of evil thought : 
 Within, within twas there the spirit wrought. 
 Love shows all changes : hate, ambition, guile, 
 Betray no further than the bitter smile." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 OUR readers must imagine that nearly a year and a half has 
 elapsed since the conclusion of our last chapter. During that 
 interval the outward life of Marie had passed in a calm, even 
 stream ; which, could she have succeeded in entirely banish 
 ing thoughts of the past, would have been unalloyed enjoy 
 ment. Her marriage, as we hinted in our fourth chapter, had 
 been solemnized in public, with all the form and ceremony 
 of the Catholic Church, and with a splendor incumbent on 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 51 
 
 the high rank and immense wealth of the bridegroom. In 
 compliance with Marie s wishes, however, she had not yet been 
 presented to the Queen ; delicate health (which was the fact, 
 for a terrible fever had succeeded the varied emotions of her 
 wedding day) and her late bereavement, was her husband s 
 excuse to Isabella for her non-appearance an excuse gra 
 ciously accepted ; the rather that the Queen of Castile was then 
 much engrossed with political changes and national reforms, 
 than from any failing of interest in Don Ferdinand s bride. 
 
 Changed as was her estate, from her lovely home in the 
 Vale of Cedars, where she had dwelt as the sole companion 
 of an ailing parent, to the mistress of a large establishment 
 in one of the most populous cities of Castile ; the idolized 
 wife of the Governor of the town and, as such, the object of 
 popular love and veneration, and called upon, frequently, to 
 exert influence and authority still Marie did not fail per 
 forming every new duty with a grace and sweetness binding 
 her more and more closely to the doting heart of her husband. 
 For her inward self, Marie was calm nay, at intervals, al 
 most happy. She had neither prayed nor struggled in vain, 
 and she felt as if her very prayer was answered in the fact 
 that Arthur Stanley had been appointed to some high and 
 honorable post in Sicily, and they were not therefore likely 
 yet to meet again. The wife of such a character as Morales 
 could not have continued wretched unless perversely resolved 
 so to be. But his very virtues, while they inspired the deepest 
 reverence towards him, engendere d some degree of fear. 
 Could she really have loved him as he believed she did 
 this feeling would not have had existence ; but its foundation 
 was the constant thought that she was deceiving him the 
 remorse, that his fond confidence was so utterly misplaced 
 the consciousness, that there was still something to conceal, 
 which, if discovered, must blight his happiness for ever, and 
 estrange him from her, were it only for the past deceit. Had 
 his character been less lofty his confidence in her less per 
 fect his very love less fond and trusting she could have 
 borne her trial better; but to one true, ingenuous, open as 
 herself, what could be more terrible than the unceasing 
 thought that she was acting a part and to her husband? 
 Often and often she longed, with an almost irresistible impulse, 
 to fling herself at his feet, and beseech him not to pierce her 
 
52 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 heart with such fond trust; but the impulse was forcibly con 
 trolled. What would such confession avail her now? or him, 
 save to wound 1 ? 
 
 Amongst the many Spaniards of noble birth who visited 
 Don Ferdinand s, was one Don Luis Garcia, whose actual 
 rank and office no one seemed to know ; and yet, in affairs of 
 church or state, camp or council, he was always so associated, 
 that it was impossible to discover to which of these he was 
 allied ; in fact, there was a mystery around him, which no one 
 could solve. Notwithstanding his easy nay, it was by some 
 thought fascinating manners, his presence generally created 
 a restraint, felt intuitively by all, yet comprehended by none. 
 That there is such an emotion as antipathy mercifully placed 
 within us, often as a warning, we do most strenuously believe ; 
 but we seldom trace and recognize it as such, till circumstan 
 ces reveal its truth. 
 
 The real character of Don Luis, and the office he held, our 
 future pages will disclose ; suffice it here to state, that there 
 was no lack of personal attractions or mental graces, to ac 
 count for the universal, yet unspoken and unacknowledged dis 
 like which he inspired. Apparently in the prime of life, he 
 yet seemed to have relinquished all the pleasures and even 
 the passions of life. Austere, even rigid, in those acts of 
 piety and personal mortifications enjoined by his religion vo 
 luntary fasts, privations, nights supposed to be past in vigil 
 and in penance; occasional rich gifts to patron saints, and 
 their human followers ; art absence of all worldly feeling, even 
 ambition ; some extraordinary deeds of benevolence all ren 
 dered him an object of actual veneration to the priests and 
 monks with which the goodly city of Segovia abounded ; and 
 ^ven the populace declared him faultless, as a catholic and a 
 man, even while their inward shuddering belied the words. 
 
 Don Ferdinand Morales alone was untroubled with these 
 contradictory emotions. Incapable of hypocrisy himself, he 
 could not imagine it in others : his nature seemed actually too 
 f rank and true for the admission even of a prejudice. Little 
 did he dream that his name, his wealth, his very favor with 
 the Queen, his influence with her subjects, had already stamp 
 ed him, in the breast of the man to whom his house and heart 
 alike were open, as an object of suspicion and espial ; and 
 that ere a year had passed over his wedded life, these feelings 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 
 
 53 
 
 were ripened, cherished changed from the mer^ thought of 
 persecution, to palpable resolve, by personal and ungovern 
 able hate. 
 
 Don Luis had never known love ; not even the fleeting 
 fancy, much less the actual passion, of the sensualist, or the 
 spiritual aspirings of true affection. Of the last, in fact, he 
 was utterly incapable. No feeling, with Vim, was of an evan 
 escent nature : under the cold austerity of the ordinary man, 
 lay coals of living fire. It mattered not under what guise 
 excited hate, revenge, ambition, he was capable of all. At 
 love, alone, he had ever laughedexulting in his own security. 
 
 The internal condition of Spain, as we have before said, 
 had been, until the accession of Isabella and Ferdinand, one 
 of the grossest license and most fearful immorality. En 
 couraged in the indulgence of every passion, by the example 
 of the Court, no dictates of either religion or morality ever 
 interfered to protect the sanctity of home ; unbridled desires 
 were often the sole cause of murderous assaults ; and these 
 fearful crimes continually passing unpunished, encouraged 
 the supposition that men s passions were given to be their sole 
 guide, before which, honor, innocence, and virtue fell power- 
 
 The vigorous proceedings of Ferdinand and Isabella had 
 already remedied these terrible abuses. Over the public 
 safety and reform they had some power ; but over the hearts 
 of individuals they had none ; and there were still some with 
 whom past license was far more influencing than present 
 restraint and legal severity ; still some who paused at no 
 crime so that the gratification of their passions was ensured ; 
 and foremost amongst these, though by his secret office pledg 
 ed to the annihilation of all domestic and social ties, as re 
 garded his own person, was Don Luis Garcia. 
 
 For rather more than a year, Don Ferdinand Morales 
 had enjoyed the society of his young wife uninterruptedly, 
 save by occasional visits, of brief duration, to Valladolid and 
 Leon, where Isabella alternately held her court. He was 
 now, however, summoned to attend the sovereigns, on a visit 
 to Ferdinand s paternal dominions, an office which would 
 cause his absence for a much longer interval. He obeyed 
 with extreme reluctance nor did Marie feel the separation 
 less. There was, in some measure, a feeling of security in 
 
54 
 
 his presence, which, whenever he was absent, gave place tc 
 fearful tremblings as to what might transpire to shake her 
 faith in her, ere he returned. 
 
 Resolved that not the very faintest breath of scandal 
 should touch his wife, Marie, during the absence of Morales, 
 always kept herself secluded. This time her retirement was 
 stricter than ever ; and great, then, was her indignation and 
 astonishment, when about a fortnight before her husband s 
 expected return, and in direct contradiction to her commands, 
 Don Luis Garcia was admitted to her presence ; and nothing 
 but actual flight, for which she was far too proud and self- 
 possessed, could have averted the private interview which 
 followed. The actual words which passed we know not; but, 
 after a very brief interval of careless converse on the part of 
 Garcia something he said earnestly, and in the tones of 
 pitying sympathy, which caused the cheek and lips of Marie 
 to blanch to marble, and her whole frame to shiver, and then 
 grow rigid, as if turned to stone. Could it be that the fatal 
 secret, which she believed was known only to herself and 
 Arthur, that she had loved another ere she wedded Ferdi 
 nand, had been penetrated by the man towards whom she 
 had ever felt the most intense abhorrence? and that he dared 
 refer to it as a source of sympathy as a proof that he could 
 feel for her more than her unsuspecting husband? Why 
 was speech so frozen up within her, that she could not, for 
 the moment, answer, and give him back the lie ? But that 
 silence of deadly terror lasted not long : he had continued to 
 speak ; at first she was unconscious of his change of tone, 
 words, and even action ; but when his actual meaning flashed 
 upon her, voice, strength, energy returned in such a burst of 
 womanly indignation, womanly majesty, that Garcia himself, 
 skilled in every art of evil as he was, quailed beneath it, and 
 felt that he was powerless, save by violence and revenge. 
 
 While that terrible interview lasted, the wife of Morales 
 had not failed ; but when once more alone, the most deadly 
 terror took possession of her. She had, indeed, so triumphed 
 as to banish Garcia, defeated, from her presence ; but fearful 
 threats of vengeance were in that interview divulged allu 
 sions to some secret power, over which he was the head, arm 
 ed with authority even greater than that of the sovereign s 
 mysteriously spoken, but still almost strangely intelligible, 
 
Oil, 
 
 55 
 
 that in her betrayal or her silence lay the safety or the dan 
 ger of her husband all compelled the conviction that her 
 terror and her indignation at the daring insult must be 
 buried deep in her own breast ; even while the supposition 
 that Don Luis knew all the past (though how, her wildest 
 imagination could not discover), and that therefore she was 
 in his power, urged her yet more to a full confession to her 
 husband. Better if his heart must be wrung by her, than by 
 a foe ; and yet she shrunk in anguish from the task. 
 
 She was, however, deceived as to tfie amount of Garcia s 
 knowledge of her past life. Accustomed to read human na 
 ture under all its varied phases employing an unusually 
 acute penetration so to know his fellows as to enable him, 
 when needed, to create the greatest amount of misery he 
 nad simply perceived that Marie s love for her husband was 
 of a different nature to his for her, and that she had some 
 secret to conceal. On this he had based his words : his sus 
 picions were, unhappily, confirmed by the still, yet express 
 ive agony they had occasioned. Baffled, as in some measure 
 he had been, his internal rage that he should have so quailed 
 before a woman, naturally increased the whirlwind of con 
 tending passions : but schooled by his impenetrable system 
 of hypocrisy to outward quietness and control, he waited, cer 
 tain that circumstances would either of themselves occur, or 
 be so guided by him as to give him ample means of triumph 
 and revenge. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 * You would have thought the very windows spake ; 
 So many greedy looks of young and old 
 Through casements darted their desiring eyes. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 IN an apartment, whose pale, green hangings, embroidered 
 with richly-colored flowers, and whose furniture and orna 
 ments, all of delicate material and refined taste, marked it as 
 a meet boudoir for gentle blood, sat Marie and her husband. 
 She occupied her favorite seat a cushion at his feet> and 
 
56 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 was listening with interest to his animated history of the 
 Sovereign s welcome to Saragossa, the popular ferment at 
 their appearance, the good they had accomplished, and would 
 still accomplish, as their judicious plans matured. It was 
 clear, he said, that they had resolved the sovereign power 
 should not be merely nominal, as it had been. By making 
 himself proclaimed and received as grand master of the three 
 great orders of knighthood Saint lago, Compostella, and 
 Alcantara the immense influence of those associations must 
 succumb to, and be guided by, Ferdinand alone ; the power 
 of the nobles would thus be insensibly diminished, and the 
 mass of the kingdom the PEOPLE as a natural consequence, 
 become of more importance, their position more open to the 
 eyes of the sovereigns, and their condition, physically and 
 morally, ameliorated and improved. 
 
 " I feel and acknowledge this, dearest ; though one of the 
 class whose power must be diminished to accomplish it ;" he 
 continued, " I am too anxious for the internal prosperity of 
 my country to quarrel with any measures which minds so en 
 lightened as its present sovereigns may deem requisite. But 
 this is but a grave theme for thee, love. Knowest thou that 
 her Grace reproached me with not bringing thee to join the 
 Arragonese festivities? When Donna Emilie spoke of thee, 
 and thy gentle worth and feminine loveliness, as being such 
 as indeed her Grace would love, my Sovereign banished me 
 her presence as a disloyal cavalier for so deserting thee ; and 
 when I marked how pale and thin thou art, I feel that she 
 was right ; I should have borne thee with me." 
 
 " Or not have left me. Oh, my husband, leave me not 
 again !" she replied, with sudden and involuntary emotion, 
 which caused him to throw his arm round her, and fondly kiss 
 her brow. 
 
 " Not for the court, dearest ; but that gentle heart must 
 not forget thou art a warrior s wife, and as such, for his hon 
 or s sake, must sometimes bear the pang of parting. Nay, 
 thou tremblest, and art still paler ! Ere such summons 
 come, thou wilt have learned to know and love thy Queen, 
 and in her protecting favor find some solace, should I be 
 called to war." 
 
 " War ! talk they of war again ? I thought all was now 
 at peace ?" 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 57 
 
 c Yes, love, in our sovereign s hereditary dominions ; but 
 there can be no lasting peace while some of the fairest terri 
 tory of Spain still dims the supremacy of Castile, and bowa 
 down to Moorish masters. It is towards Grenada King Fer 
 dinand looks, yearning for the day when, all internal commo 
 tions healed, he can head a gallant army to compel subjection ; 
 and sad as it will be to leave thee. sweet, thou wilt forgive 
 thy soldier if he say, would that the day were come !" 
 
 "And will not their present extent of kingdom suffice the 
 sovereigns ? When they recall their former petty domains, 
 and compare them with the present, is it not enough ?" 
 
 Morales smiled. " Thou speakest as a very woman, gentle 
 one, to whom the actual word ambition is unknown. Why, 
 the very cause thou namest urges our sovereigns to the con 
 quest of these Moors. They are the blot upon a kingdom 
 otherwise as fair and great as any other European land. 
 They thirst to raise it in the scale of kingdoms to send 
 down their names to posterity, as the founders of the Span 
 ish monarchy the builders and supporters of a united throne, 
 and so leave their children an undivided land. Surely this 
 is a glorious project, one which every Spanish warrior must 
 rejoice to aid. But fear not a speedy summons, love : much 
 must be accomplished first. Isabella will visit this ancient 
 city ere then, and thou wilt learn to love and reverence her as 
 I do." 
 
 "In truth, my husband, thou hast made me loyal as thy 
 self; but say they not she is severe, determined, stern?" 
 
 " To the guilty, yes ; even the weak crafty will not stand 
 before her repelling glance : but what hast thou to fear, my 
 love? Penetrative as she is, seeming to read the heart 
 through the countenance, she can read nought in thee save 
 qualities to love. I remember well the eagle glance she fixed 
 on King Ferdinand s young English favorite, Senor Stan 
 ley, the first time he was presented to her. But she was 
 satisfied, for he ranks as deservedly high in her favor as in 
 her husband s. Thou hast heard me speak of this young En 
 glishman, my Marie ?" 
 
 Her face was at that moment turned from him, or he 
 might have started at its sudden flush ; but she assented by 
 a sign. 
 
 " He was so full of joyousness and mirth, that to us c! 
 
58 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 graver nature it seemed almost below his dignity as man j 
 and now they tell me he is changed so mournfully ; grave, 
 sad, silent, maturity seems to have descended upon him ere 
 he has quite passed boyhood ; or he has some secret sorrow, 
 too sacred to be revealed. There is some talk of his recall 
 from Sicily, he having besought the king for a post of more 
 active and more dangerous service. Ferdinand loves such 
 daring spirits, and therefore no doubt will grant his boon. 
 Ha ! Alberic, what is it ?" he continued, eagerly, as a page 
 entered, and delivered a packet secured with floss silk, and 
 sealed with the royal signet, adding that it had been brought 
 by an officer of the royal guard, attended by some men at 
 arms. Give him welcome suited to his rank, boy : I will 
 but peruse these, and attend him instantly." 
 
 The page withdrew, and Don Ferdinand, hastily cutting 
 the silk, was speedily so engrossed in his despatches, as to 
 forget for the time even the presence of his wife ; and well 
 it was so ; for it enabled her with a strong effort to conquer 
 the deadly sickness Morale s careless words had caused the 
 pang of dread accompanying every thought of Arthur s re 
 turn to Spain to still the throbbing pulse and quivering 
 lip, and, outwardly unmoved, meet his joyous glance once 
 more. 
 
 " Tis as I thought and hoped," he said, with animation : 
 "the sovereigns hold their court for some months in this 
 city ; coeval, in antiquity, associations, and loyalty, with Val- 
 ladolid and Leon, Isabella, with her characteristic thought 
 for all her subjects, has decided on making it occasionally 
 the seat of empire alternately with them, and commissions 
 me, under her royal seal, to see the castle fittingly prepared. 
 Listen, love, what her Grace writes farther Take heed, my 
 good lord, and hide not in a casket the brightest gem which 
 we have heard adorns thy home. We would ourselves judge 
 the value of thy well-hoarded jewel not that we doubt its 
 worth ; for it would be strange, indeed, if he who hath ever 
 borne off the laurel wreath from the competitors for glory, 
 should not in like manner seek and win the prize of beauty. 
 In simple language, let Donna Marie be in attendance. And 
 so thou shalt, love ; and by thy gentle virtues and modest 
 loveliness, add increase of honor to thy husband. Hai 
 what says Gonzalo de Lara?" he added, as his eye glanced 
 
011, THE MARTYR. 59 
 
 over another paper " Tumults in Sicily active measures 
 Senor Stanley enough on which to expend his chivalric 
 ardor, and evince his devotedness to Ferdinand ; but Sicily 
 quieted supposed the king will still grant his request as 
 sign him some post about his person, be at hand for military 
 service against the Moors. Good ! then the war is resolved 
 on. We must bestir ourselves, dearest, to prepare fit recep 
 tion for our royal guests ; there is but brief time." 
 
 He embraced and left her as he spoke ; and for several 
 minutes Marie remained without the power even to rise from 
 her seat : one pang conquered, another came. Arthur s re 
 call appeared determined ; would it be so soon that he would 
 join the sovereigns before they reached Segovia ? She dared 
 not think, save to pray, with wild and desperate fervor, 
 that such might not be. 
 
 Magnificent, indeed, were Don Ferdinand s preparations 
 for the banquet with which he intended to welcome his sove 
 reigns to Segovia. The castle was to be the seat of their 
 residence, and the actual locale of their court ; but it was at 
 his own private dwelling he resolved, by a sumptuous enter 
 tainment, to evince how deeply and reverentially he felt the 
 favor with which he was regarded by both monarchs, more 
 especially by Isabella, his native Sovereign. 
 
 In the many struggles which were constantly occurring 
 between the Spaniards and Moors, the former had be 
 come acquainted with the light yet beautiful architecture 
 and varied skill in all the arts peculiar to the latter, and dis 
 played their improved taste in both public and private build 
 ings. Morales, in addition to natural taste, possessed great 
 affluence, which enabled him to evince yet greater splendor 
 in his establishment than was usual to his countrymen. 
 
 There was one octangular room, the large panels form 
 ing the walls of which were painted, each forming a striking 
 picture of the principal events in the history of Spain, from 
 the descent of Don Palayo, and the mountaineers of Astu- 
 rias, who struck the first blow for Spanish freedom, to the 
 accession of Ferdinand and Isabella. The paintings were 
 not detached pictures, but drawn and colored on the wall 
 itself, which had been previously prepared for the reception 
 of the colors by a curious process, still in use among the 
 
60 
 
 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 Orientals.* The colors, when dry, were rubbed, till the 
 utmost brilliancy was attained ; and this, combined as it was 
 with a freedom and correctness of drawing, produced an 
 effect as striking then as it would be ffovel to modern eyes. 
 One side, divided into three compartments, contained in one 
 a touching likeness of the young Alfonso. His figure, rather 
 larger than life, was clothed in armor, which shone as in 
 laid with gold. His head was bare, and his bright locks 
 flowed over his shoulders as he wore them in life. His bril 
 liant eye, his lofty brow, and peculiarly sweet expression oi 
 mouth, had been caught by the limner, and transferred to 
 his painting in all their original beauty. Round him were 
 grouped some of the celebrated cavaliers of his party ; and 
 the back-ground, occupied by troops not in regular battal 
 ions, but as impelled by some whelming feeling of national 
 excitement, impossible to be restrained. Answering to this 
 was a full length of the infanta Isabella I., in the act of re 
 fusing the crown offered by the confederates. The centre 
 compartment represented the union of Castile and Arragon 
 by the nuptials of their respective sovereigns in the cathe^ 
 dral church of Yalladolid. Over these pictures were sus 
 pended golden lamps, inlaid with gems ; so that, day or 
 night, the effect should remain the same. Opposite the dais, 
 huge folding-doors opened on an extensive hall, where the 
 banquets were generally held, and down which Don Ferdi 
 nand intended to range the tables for his guests of lesser 
 rank, leaving the octangular apartment for the royal tables, 
 and those of the most distinguished nobles ; the one, how 
 ever, so communicating with the other, as to appear one 
 lengthened chamber. On the right hand of the dais, an 
 other large door opened on a withdrawing-room, the floor of 
 which was of marble, curiously tinted ; and the walls hung 
 with Genoa velvet, ruby-colored, and bordered by a wide 
 fringe of gold. Superb vases of alternate crystal and frosted 
 silver, on pedestals of alabaster and of aqua-marine, were 
 ranged along the walls, the delicate beauty of their mate 
 rial and workmanship coming out well against the rich color 
 ing of the hangings behind. The roof, a lofty dome, dis 
 played the light Arabesque workmanship, peculiar to Moor- 
 
 *See Art Union Journal, August, 1845. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 61 
 
 ish architecture, as did the form and ornaments of -the win 
 dows. This apartment opened into another, much smaller, 
 each side of which, apparently formed of silver plate, reflected 
 as mirrors every object ; and the pillars supporting the pe 
 culiarly light roof of the same glittering material. Some 
 parts of the extensive gardens Morales intended to illumi 
 nate ; and others, for the effect of contrast, to be left in 
 deepest shadow. 
 
 Nothing was omitted which could do honor to the royal 
 guests, or cast a reproach upon the magnificent hospitality 
 of their hosts. The preparations were but just completed, 
 when an advance guard arrived at Segovia with the tidings 
 of the rapid approach of the sovereigns ; and Moiales, with a 
 gallant troop of his own retainers, and a procession of the 
 civil and military officers of Segovia, hastened to meet and 
 escort them to the town. 
 
 With an uncontrollable impulse, Marie had followed the 
 example of almost every female in Segovia, and, wrapt in her 
 shrouding veil, had stationed herself, with some attendants at a 
 casement overlooking the long line of march. The city itself 
 presented one scene of gladsome bustle and excitment : flags 
 were suspended from every " turret, dome, and tower," rich 
 tapestries hung over balconies, which were filled with females of 
 every rank and grade, vying in the richness and elegance of their 
 apparel, and their coquettish use of the veil and fan, so as to 
 half-hide and half-display their features, more or less beauti 
 ful for beautiful as a nation, the Spanish women undoubt 
 edly are. Bells were ringing from every church ; ever and 
 anon came a burst of warlike music, as detached troops 
 galloped in the town, welcomed with shouts as the officer at 
 their head was recognized. Even the priests themselves, 
 with their sober dresses and solemn countenances, seemed 
 touched with the universal excitement, relaxing into smiles 
 and hearty greeting with the laymen they encountered. As 
 the hours waned, popular excitement increased. It was the 
 first visit of Isabella to the city ; and already had her char 
 acter been displayed in such actions as to kindle the warmest 
 love towards the woman, in addition to the enthusiastic? 
 loyalty towards the QueSn. 
 
 At length the rumor rose that the main body was ap 
 proaching in little more than a hour the sovereigns would 
 
62 
 
 pass the-gatefc, and excitement waxed wilder and wilder, and 
 impatience -was only restrained by the interest excited to 
 wards the gallant bodies of cavalry, which now in slow and 
 measured march approached, forming the commencement of 
 a line, which for three hours continued to pour within the 
 city in one unbroken strain. 
 
 Even Marie herself, pre-occupied as she was in the dread 
 search for one object, could not glance down on the moving 
 multitude beneath her without in some degree sharing the 
 enthusiasm of her countrymen. There were gallant warriors 
 of every age, from the old man to the beardless youth ; 
 chargers, superb in form and rich in decoration ; a field of 
 spears glittering in the broad sunshine, some bearing the 
 light *ay pennoncelle, others absolutely bending beneath the 
 heavy folds of banners, which the light breeze at times ex 
 tended so as to display their curious heraldic bearings, and 
 then sunk heavily around their staffs. Esquires bearing 
 their masters shields, whose spotless fields flung back a 
 hundred-fold the noonday sun plumes so long and droop 
 ing, as to fall from the gilded crest till they rested on the 
 shoulder armor so bright as to dazzle the eyes of the be 
 holders, save when partly concealed under the magnificent 
 surcoats and mantles, amongst which the richest velvets, 
 slashed with gold or silver, distinguished the highest nobles. 
 Pageantry like this mingled with such stirring sounds as the 
 tramp of the noble horse, curveting, prancing, rearing, as if 
 disdaining the slow order of march the thrilling blast of 
 many trumpets, the long roll, or short, sharp call of the 
 drum ; and the mingled notes of martial instruments, blend 
 ing together in wild yet stirring harmony, would be sufficient 
 even in this prosaic age to bid the heart throb and the cheek 
 burn, recognizing it, as perhaps we should, merely as the 
 symbol, not the thing. What, then, must it have been, when 
 men felt such glittering pageant and chivalric seeming, the 
 realities of life ? 
 
 At length came the principal group ; the pressure of the 
 crowds increased, and human hearts so throbbed, that it 
 seemed as if they could not breathe, save in the stunning 
 shouts, bidding the very welkin ring. Surrounded by a 
 guard of honor, composed indiscriminately of Castilians and 
 Arragonese, mounted on a jet black steed, which pawed the 
 
OS, THE MARTYR. 63 
 
 ground, and shook his graceful head, as conscious of his 
 princely burden, magnificently attired, but in the robes of 
 peace, with a circlet of gold and gems enwreathing his black 
 velvet cap, his countenance breathing this day but the kindly 
 emotions of his more youthful nature, unshadowed by the 
 wile and intrigue of after-years, King Ferdinand looked the 
 mighty monarch, whose talents raised his country from 
 obscurity, and bade her stand forth among the first of 
 European nations. But tumultuary as were the shouts with 
 which he was recognized, they were faint in comparison to 
 those which burst forth at sight of the Princess at his side. 
 Isabella had quitted her litter on re-entering her own domin 
 ions, and now rode a cream-colored charger, which she manag 
 ed with the grace and dignity of one well accustomed to the 
 exercise, alike in processions of peace and scenes of war. 
 
 The difference of age between the sovereigns was not 
 perceivable,* for the grave and thoughtful character of Fer 
 dinand gave him rather the appearance of seniority ; while 
 the unusual fairness of Isabella s complexion, her slight and 
 somewhat small stature, produced on her the contrary eifect. 
 The dark gray eye. the rich brown hair and delicate skin of 
 the Queen of Castile deprived her, somewhat remarkably, of 
 all the characteristics of a Spaniard, but, from their very 
 novelty attracted the admiration of her subjects. Beautiful 
 she was not ; but her charm lay in the variable expression of 
 her features. Peculiarly and sweetly feminine, infused, as 
 Washington Irving observes, with "a soft, tender melan 
 choly," as was their general expression, they could yet so 
 kindle into indignant majesty, so flash with reproach or 
 scorn, that the very color of the eye became indistinguishable, 
 and the boldest and the strongest quailed beneath the mighty 
 and the holy spirit, which they could not but feel, that frail 
 woman form enshrined. 
 
 Bound the sovereigns were grouped, in no regular order 
 of march, but forming a brilliant cortege, many of the celebrat 
 ed characters of their reign men, not only of war, but of 
 literature and wisdom, whom both monarchs gloried in dis 
 tinguishing above their fellows, seeking to exalt the honor of 
 their country, not only in extent of dominion, but by the 
 
 * Isabella was eight or ten years Ferdinand s senior. 
 
64 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 shining qualities of her sons. It was to this group the strain 
 ed gaze of Marie turned, and became riveted on the Queen, 
 feeling strangely and indefinably a degree of comfort as she 
 gazed ; to explain wherefore, even to herself, was impossible ; 
 but she felt as if she no longer stood alone in the wide world, 
 whose gaze she dreaded ; a new impulse rose within her, 
 urging her, instead of remaining indifferent, as she thought 
 she should, to seek and win Isabella s regard. She gazed 
 and gazed, till she could have fancied her very destiny was 
 in some way connected with the Queen s visit to Segovia 
 that some mysterious influences were connecting her, insigni 
 ficant as she was, with Isabella s will. She strove with the 
 baseless vision; but it would gain ground, folding up her 
 whole mind in its formless imaginings. The sight of her 
 husband, conversing eagerly with the sovereign, in some 
 degree startled her back to the present scene. His cheek 
 was flushed with exercise and excitement; his large dark 
 eyes glittering, and a sunny smile robbing his mouth of its 
 wonted expression of sternness. On passing his mansion he 
 looked eagerly up, and with proud and joyous greeting doffed 
 his velvet cap, and bowed with as earnest reverence as if he 
 had still to seek and win her. The chivalry of Don Ferdi 
 nand Morales was proved, yet more after marriage than 
 before. 
 
 It was over : the procession had at length passed : she 
 had scanned every face and form whose gallant bearing pro 
 claimed him noble ; but Arthur Stanley was not amongst 
 them, and inexpressibly relieved, Marie Morales sunk down 
 on a low seat, and covering her face with her hands, lifted up 
 her whole soul in one wild yet how fervent ! burst of 
 thanksgiving. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 65 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Yet was I calm. I knew the time 
 
 My breast would thrill before thy look ; 
 But now, to tremble were a crime : 
 We met, and not a nerve was shook." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 THE excitement of the city did not subside with the close of 
 the procession. The quiet gravity and impressive appear 
 ance of age, which had always marked Segovia, as a city 
 more of the past than present, gave place to all the bustling 
 animation peculiar to a provincial residence of royalty. Its 
 central position gave it advantages over Valladolid, the usual 
 seat of the monarchs of Castile and Leon, to sovereigns who 
 were seeking the internal peace and prosperity of their sub 
 jects, and were resolved on reforming abuses in every quar 
 ter of their domains. The deputation from the city was 
 graciously received ; their offering a golden vase filled with 
 precious stones accepted, and the seal put to their loyal 
 excitement by receiving from Isabella s own lips, the glad in 
 formation that she had decided on making Segovia her resi 
 dence for the ensuing year, and that she trusted the loyalty 
 which the good citizens of Segovia had so warmly proffered 
 would be proved, by their endeavors in their own households 
 to reform the abuses which long years of misrule and misery 
 had engendered. She depended on them, her people, to aid 
 her with heart and hand, and bade them remember, no indi 
 vidual was so insignificant as to remove his shoulder from 
 the wheel on plea of uselessness. She trusted to her citizen 
 subjects to raise the internal glory of her kingdom, as she 
 did to her nobles to guard their safety, elevate her chivalry, 
 and by their untarnished honor and stainless valor, present 
 an invincible front to foreign foes, Isabella knew human 
 nature well ; the citizens returned to their houses bound for 
 ever to her service. 
 
 Don Luis Garcia had joined the train of Morales when he 
 set forth to meet the sovereigns. His extraordinary auster 
 ity and semblance of lowly piety, combined as they were 
 
66 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 with universal talent, had been so much noised abroad as to 
 reach the ears of Ferdinand and Isabella ; and Morales, ever 
 eager to promote the interests of a countryman, took the 
 earliest opportunity of presenting him to them. He was 
 graciously enough received : but, though neither spoke it, an 
 indefinable feeling of disappointment took possession of their 
 minds, the wherefore they knew not. Don Luis had con 
 versed well, both as to the matter and the manner ; but nei 
 ther Ferdinand nor Isabella felt the smallest inclination to 
 advance him to any post about themselves. In virtue of his 
 supposed rank, however, he of course mingled with the court 
 ly crowd, which on the appointed evening thronged the man 
 sion of Don Ferdinand. 
 
 Tremblingly as Marie looked forward to that evening, 
 she spared no pains to gratify her husband in the choice of 
 her toilet. Sorrow had never made her indifferent, and she 
 sought to please him even in the most trifling occurrences of 
 life. Her beautiful hair still lay in soft, glossy bands against 
 the delicate cheeks, and was gathered up behind in a mas 
 sive plait, forming, as it were, a diadem at the back of the 
 exquisitely shaped head, from which fell a white veil 
 rather, perhaps, a half mantle, as it shaded the shoulders, 
 not the face of silver tissue, so delicately woven as to 
 resemble lace, save in its glittering material. A coronet of 
 diamonds was wreathed in and out the plait, removing all 
 semblance of heaviness from the headgear, and completely 
 divesting it of gaudiness. Her robe, of blue brocade, so 
 closely woven with silver threads as to glisten in the light of 
 a hundred lamps almost like diamonds, had no ornament 
 save the large pearls which looped up the loose sleeves above 
 the elbow, buttoned the bodice or jacket down the front, and 
 ricniy embroidered the wide collar, which, thrown back, dis 
 closed the wearer s delicate throat and beautiful fall of the 
 shoulders, more than her usual attire permitted to be visible. 
 The tiny white silk slipper, embroidered in pearl, a collaret 
 and bracelets of the same beautiful ornament, of very large 
 size, completed her costume. 
 
 Not even the presence of royalty could restrain the 
 burst of undisguised admiration which greeted Marie, as, led 
 forward by her eager husband, she was presented to the sov 
 ereigns, and knelt to do them homage. Ferdinand himself 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 67 
 
 gazed on her a moment astonished ; then with animated 
 courtesy hastily raised her, and playfully chid the movement 
 as unmeet from a hostess to her guests. 
 
 A strange moisture had risen to the eyes of the Queen 
 as she first beheld Marie. It might have been that marvel 
 lous perfection of face and form which caused the emotion ; 
 for if all perfection, even from man s hand, is affecting even 
 to tears, what must be the work of God ? It might have 
 been that on that young, sweet face, to the Queen s mental 
 eye, a dim shadow from the formless realms of the future 
 havered that, stealing from that outward form of loveliness, 
 she beheld its twin sister, sorrow. Whatever it might have 
 been, kind and gentle as Isabella s manner ever was, espe 
 cially to her own sex, to Marie it was kinder and gentler 
 still. 
 
 How false is the charge breathed from man s lips, that 
 woman never admires woman ! that we are incapable of the 
 lofty feeling of admiration of our own sex either for beauti 
 ful qualities or beauteous form ! There is no object in cre 
 ation more lovely, more fraught with intensest interest (if, 
 indeed, we are not so wholly wrapt in the petty world of self 
 as to have none for such lofty sympathies) than a young girl 
 standing on the threshold of a new existence ; beautiful, in 
 nocent, and true ; offspring as yet of joy and hope alone, but 
 before whom stretches the dim vista of graver years, and the 
 yearning thoughts, unspoken griefs, and buried feelings, which 
 even in the happiest career must still be woman s lot. There 
 may be many who can see no charm and feel no interest in 
 girlhood s beauty : but not in such is woman s best and holi 
 est nature ; and therefore not by such should she be judged. 
 
 " We will not chide thee, Senor, for thy jealous care of 
 this most precious gem," said Isabella, addressing Don Fer 
 dinand, while her eye followed Marie, who, re-assured by the 
 Queen s manner, had conquered her painful timidity, and 
 was receiving and returning with easy grace and natural 
 dignity the greetings and gallantries of her guests : " she is 
 too pure, too precious to meet the common eye, or breathe a 
 courtly atmosphere." 
 
 Don Ferdinand s eye glistened. " And yet I fear her 
 not," he rejoined : "she is as true, as loving, as she is loved 
 and lovely." 
 
68 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 "I doubt it not: nay, tis the spotless purity of soul 
 breathing in that sweet face, which I would not behold taint 
 ed, by association with those less pure. No : let her rest 
 within the sanctuary of thy heart and hearth, Don Ferdi 
 nand. We do not command her constant attendance on our 
 person, as we had intended." 
 
 Conscious of the inexpressible relief which this assur 
 ance would be to his wife, Morales eagerly and gratefully 
 expressed his thanks ; and the Queen passed on, rejoicing in 
 the power of so easily conferring joy. 
 
 \V e may not linger on the splendor of this scene, or at 
 tempt description of the varied and picturesque groups filling 
 the gorgeous suite of rooms, pausing at times to admire the 
 decorations of the domed chamber, or passing to and fro in 
 the hall of mirrors, gayly reflected from the walls and pillars. 
 The brilliant appearance of the extensive gardens ; their 
 sudden and dazzling illuminations as night advanced ; their 
 curious temples, and sparkling fountains sending up sheets 
 of silver in the still air and darkening night, and falling in 
 myriads of diamonds on innumerable flowers, whose brilliant 
 coloring, illuminated by small lamps, concealed beneath their 
 foliage, shone forth like gems ; the groups of Moorish slaves, 
 still as statues in their various attitudes 5 the wild, barbaric 
 music, startling, yet delighting all who listened, and causing 
 many an eager warrior to grasp his sword, longing even at 
 such a moment to exchange that splendid scene for the clash 
 and stir of war we must leave all to the imagination of our 
 readers, and bid them follow us to the banquet hall, where, 
 summoned by the sound of the gong, the numerous guests 
 sat down to tables, groaning beneath the profuse hospitality 
 of their host, and the refined magnificence of the display. 
 
 All the warrior stirred $he soul of the King, as, on taking 
 his seat at the dais, he glanced round and beheld the glori 
 ous triumphs of his country so strikingly portrayed. But 
 Isabella saw but one picture, felt but one thought ; and 
 Marie never forgot the look she fixed on the breathing por 
 trait of Alfonso, nor the tone with which she inquired 
 
 " Hadst thou ever a brother, Marie ?" 
 
 " Never, royal Madam." 
 
 " Then thou canst not enter into the deep love I bore 
 yon princely boy, nor the feeling that picture brings. Marie, 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 69 
 
 I would cast aside my crown, descend my throne without one 
 regretful murmur, could I but hold him to my heart once 
 more, as I did the night he bade me his glad farewell. It 
 was for ever ! Thy husband speaks of him sometimes ? :) 
 
 " Often, often, my gracious liege, till his lip has quivered 
 and his eye has glistened !" 
 
 Isabella pressed her hand, and with even more than her 
 wonted graciousness, turned to receive from the hand of her 
 host the gemmed goblet of wine, which, in accordance with 
 established custom, Don Ferdinand knelt down to present, 
 having first drunk of it himself. 
 
 Inspiringly sounded the martial music during the coit 
 tinuance of the banquet. Brightly sparkled the brimming 
 goblets of the far-famed Spanish wine. Lightly round the 
 table ran the gay laugh and gayer jest. Soft and sweet were 
 the whispers of many a gallant cavalier to his fair compan 
 ion ; for, in compliment to Isabella, the national reserve of 
 the daughters of Spain was in some degree laid aside and a 
 free intercourse with their male companions permitted. 
 Each, indeed, wore the veil, which could be thrown off, 
 forming a mantle behind, or drawn close to conceal every 
 feature, as coquettish fancy willed ; nor were the large fans 
 wanting, with which the Spanish woman is said to hold as 
 long and desperate a flirtation as the coquette of other lands 
 can do with the assistance of voice and eye. Isabella s ex 
 ample had, however, already created reformation in her 
 female train, and the national levity and love of intrigue, 
 had in a great degree diminished. 
 
 The animation of the scene was at its height when sud 
 denly the music ceased, a single gong was heard to sound, 
 and Alberic, the senior page, brought tidings of the arrivax 
 of new guests ; and his master, with native courtesy, hasten 
 ed down the hall to give them welcome. 
 
 * Marie had not heard, or, perhaps, had not heeded the 
 interruption in the music ; for, fascinated by the manner and 
 conversation of the Queen, she had given herself up for the 
 time wholly to its influence, to the forgetfulness even of her 
 inward self. The sound of many footsteps and a rejoicing 
 exclamation from the King, excited the attention at once of 
 Isabella and her hostess. Marie glanced down the splendid 
 hall ; and well was it for her that she was standing behind the 
 
70 THE VALE OF CEDARS ; 
 
 Queen s seat, and somewhat deep in shadow. Momentary 
 as was all visible emotion, its effect was such as must have 
 caused remark and wonder had it been perceived : on herself, 
 that casual glance, was as if she had received some invisibly 
 dealt, yet fearful blow. Her brain reeled, her eyes swam, a 
 fearful, stunning sound awoke within her ears, and such fail 
 ing of bodily power as compelled her, spite of herself, to grasp 
 the Queen s chair for support. But how mighty how mar 
 vellous is the power of will and mind! In less thsm a 
 minute every failing sense was recalled, tvery slackened 
 nerve restrung, and, save in the deadly paleness of HD, ^s 
 well as cheek, not a trace of that terrible conflict remained. 
 
 Aware that it was at a gay banquet he was to meet the 
 King, Arthur Stanley had arranged his dress with some 
 care. We need only particularize his sword, which was re 
 markable for its extreme simplicity, the hilt being of the 
 basket shape, and instead of being inlaid with precious 
 stones, as was the general custom of this day, was composed 
 merely of highly burnished steel. He had received it from 
 his dying father : and it was his pride to preserve it unsul 
 lied, as it had descended to him. He heeded neither laugh 
 ter at its uncouth plainness, nor even the malicious sneer as 
 to the poor Englishman s incapacity to purchase a hand 
 somer one ; rejecting every offer of a real Toledo, and de 
 claring that he would prove both the strength and brightness 
 of English steel, so that none should gainsay it. 
 
 "Welcome, Don Arthur! welcome, Senor Stanley! By 
 St. Francis, I shall never learn thy native title, youth !" 
 exclaimed the monarch, frankly, as he extended his hand, 
 which Stanley knelt to salute. Returned with fresher laurels, 
 Stanley ? Why, man, thou wilt make us thy debtor in good 
 earnest !" 
 
 " Nay, my gracious liege : that can never be !" replied 
 Stanley, earnestly. " Grateful I am, indeed, when there is 
 opportunity to evince fidelity and valor in your Grace s 
 service ; but believe me, where so much has been and is re 
 ceived, not a life s devotion on my part can remove the im 
 pression, that I am the debtor still." 
 
 " I believe thee, boy ! I do believe thee ! I would mis 
 trust myself ere I mistrusted thee. We will hear of thy 
 doings to-morrow. Enough now to know we are well satisfi- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR, 71 
 
 ed with thy government in Sicily, and trust our native sub 
 ject who succeeds thee will do his part as well. Away to thy 
 seat, and rejoice that thou hast arrived ere this gay scene has 
 closed. Yet stay : our lovely hostess hath not yet given 
 thee welcome. Where is the Senora? Isabella, hast thou 
 spirited her hence ? She was here but now." 
 
 " Nay, good my Lord : she has vanished unwittingly." re 
 plied Isabella, as she turned towards the spot where Marie 
 had been standing. " Don Ferdinand, we must entreat thee 
 to recall her !" 
 
 " It needs not, royal Madam : I am here :" and Mario 
 stepped forward from the deep shade of the falling drapery 
 behind the royal seats which had concealed her, and stood 
 calmly, almost proudly erect beside the Queen, the full light 
 falling on her face and form. But there was little need for 
 light to recognize her : the voice was sufficient ; and even the 
 vivid consciousness of where he stood, the hundred curious 
 eyes upon him, could not restrain the sudden start the be 
 wildered look. Could that be Marie? Could that be the 
 wife of Ferdinand Morales ? If she were the one, how could 
 she be the other, when scarcely eighteen months previous, she 
 had told him that which, if it were true, must equally prevent 
 her union with Morales as with himself? In what were they 
 different save in the vast superiority of wealth and rank? 
 And in the chaos of bewildering emotions, so trustful was he in 
 the truth of her he loved, that, against the very evidence of 
 his own senses, he for the moment disbelieved in the identity 
 of the wife of Morales with the Marie Henriquez of the Ce 
 dar Vale. Perhaps it was well he did so, for it enabled him 
 to still the tumultuous throbbing of his every pulse as her 
 voice again sounded in his ear, saying he was welcome, most 
 welcome as her husband s friend, and to retire without any 
 apparent emotion to his seat. 
 
 He had merely bowed reverentially in reply. In any 
 other person the silence itself would have caused remark : 
 but for the last three years Stanley s reserve and silence in 
 the company of women had been such, that a departure from 
 his general rule even in the present case would have been 
 more noticed than his silence. Thoughts of painful, almost 
 chaotic bewilderment indeed, so chased each other across his 
 mind as to render the scene around him indistinct, the many 
 
72 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 faces and eager voices like the phantasma of a dream. But 
 the pride of manhood roused him from the sickening trance, 
 and urged him to enter into the details, called for by his 
 companions in arms, of the revolt of the Sicilians, with even 
 more than usual animation. 
 
 One timid glance Marie had hazarded towards her hus 
 band, and it was met by such a look and smile of love and 
 pride that she was re-assured to perform the duties of the 
 evening unfalteringly to the end. Alas ! she little knew that 
 her momentary emotion and that of Arthur had alike been 
 seen, commented upon, and welcomed with fiend-like glee, as 
 the connecting link of an until then impalpable plot, by one 
 individual in that courtly crowd, whose presence, hateful as 
 it was, she had forgotten in the new and happter thoughts 
 which Isabella s presence and notice had occasioned. 
 
 And who was there, the mere spectator of this glittering 
 pageant, but would have pronounced that there, at least, all 
 was joy, and good-will, and trust, and love? Who, even did 
 they acknowledge the theory that one human heart, unveiled, 
 would disperse this vain dream of seeming unalloyed enjoy 
 ment, would yet have selected the right individual for the 
 proof, or would not have shrunk back awed and saddened 
 had the truth been told ? Surely it is well for the young, the 
 hopeful, and the joyous, that in such scenes they see but life s 
 surface not its depths. 
 
 The festive scene lasted some time longer, nor did it con 
 clude with the departure of the King and Queen : many still 
 lingered, wandering at their own will about the rooms and 
 gardens, and dispersing gradually, as was then the custom, 
 without any set farewell. 
 
 Her attendance no longer required by the Queen, and 
 aware that her presence was not needed by her guests, Marie 
 sought the gardens ; her fevered spirit and aching head 
 yearning to exchange the dazzling lights and close rooms for 
 the darkness and refreshing breeze of night. Almost uncon 
 sciously she had reached some distance from the house, and 
 now stood beside a beautiful statue of a water-nymph, over 
 looking a deep still pool, so clear and limpid, that when the 
 moon cast her light upon it, it shone like a sheet of silver, 
 reflecting every surrounding object. There were many paths 
 that led to it, concealed one from the other by gigantic trees 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 73 
 
 and overhanging shrubs. It was a favorite spot with Marie, 
 and she now stood leaning against the statue, quite unconscious 
 that tears were falling faster and faster from her eyes, and 
 mingling with the waters at her feet. 
 
 " Marie !" exclaimed the voice of Stanley at that moment : 
 " Canst thou be Marie? so false, so " but his words were 
 checked, for the terror, the tumult of feeling, while it impell 
 ed her to start from him, deprived her of all power ; and a 
 rapid movement on his part alone prevented her from falling 
 in the deep pool beneath their feet. It was but a moment : 
 she withdrew herself from his supporting arms, and stood 
 erect before him, though words she had none. 
 
 "Speak to me!" reiterated Arthur, his \oice soundiig 
 nollow and changed ; " I ask but one word. My very senses 
 seem to play me false, and mock me with thy outward sem 
 blance to one I have so loved. Her name, too, was Marie ; 
 her voice soft and thrilling as thine own : and yet, yet, I feel 
 that tis but semblance tis but mockery the phantasy of 
 a disordered brain. Speak, in mercy ! Say that it is but sem 
 blance that thou art not the Marie I have so loved." 
 
 " It is true I am that Marie. I have wronged thee most 
 cruelly, most falsely," she answered, in a tone low and col 
 lected indeed, but expressive of intense suffering. " It is too 
 late now, either to atone or to explain. Leave me, Senor 
 Stanley : I am another s !" 
 
 - Too late to explain ? By heaven but thou shalt !" burst 
 fiercely and wrathfully from Stanley. " Is it not enough that 
 thou hast changed my whole nature into gall, made truth it 
 self a, lie, purity a meaningless word, but thou wilt shroud 
 thyself under the specious hood of duty to another, when, 
 before heaven, thou wast mine alone. Speak !" 
 
 "Ay, I will speak implore thee by the love thou didst 
 once bear me, Arthur, leave me now ! I can hear no more 
 to-night." 
 
 " On condition thou wilt see me in private once again. 
 Marie, thou darest not refuse me this ! Thou canst not have 
 so fallen as to give no reason for this most foul wrong fan 
 cied weak, futile as it may be. We part now, but we meet 
 again !" And with a strong effort at control he strode hastily 
 from her. 
 
 The moon at that moment breaking from thick clouds, 
 4 
 
74 
 
 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 darted her full light upon the pool, till it shone like an illu 
 minated mirror amidst the surrounding darkness; and though 
 Arthur had disappeared, its clear surface distinctly reflected 
 the outline of another closely shrouded figure. Marie turned 
 in terror, and beheld, gleaming with the triumph of a fiend, 
 the hated countenance of Don Luis Garcia. One look told her 
 that he had seen all, heard all ; but she had no power to speak 
 or move. Keeping his basilisk gaze fixed on her, he with 
 drew backwards into the deep shade till he had entirely dis 
 appeared. 
 
 Summoning all her energy, Marie fled back towards the 
 house, and at the moment she reached it, Don Ferdinand 
 crossed the deserted hall. 
 
 " Marie, dearest, here and alone ? Pale , too, and trem- 
 bling ! In heaven s name, what hath chanced ?" 
 
 A moment more, and she would have flung herself at his 
 feet and told him all all, and beseeching his forgiveness, 
 conjure him to shield her from Arthur, from herself; but as 
 she looked up in his face, and met its beaming animation, its 
 manly reflection of the pure gratification that evening had 
 bestowed, how could she, how dared she be the one to dash it 
 with woe ? And, overpowered with this fearful contention 
 of feeling, she threw her arms around him as he bent tender 
 ly over her, and burying her head in his bosom, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " Thou art exhausted, mine own love ! It has been too 
 exciting, too wearying a scene for thee. Why. what a poor, 
 weak girl thou art ! How fortunate for thee that thy Queen 
 demands not thy constant attendance, and that thy huband 
 is not ambitious to behold thee shining in the court, as thy 
 grace and beauty might ! I am too glad to feel thee all, all 
 my own. Smile on me, love, and then to thy couch. A few 
 hours quiet rest, and thou wilt be thyself again." And he 
 bore her himself with caressing gentleness to her apartwet. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 75 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Then Roderick from the Douglas broke, 
 As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
 Kindling its wreaths long, dark, and low. 
 To one broad blaze of ruddy glow ; 
 So the deep anguish of despair 
 Burst in fierce jealousy to air." 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 c; SURE, now, Pedro, the poor young Senor cannot be en 
 tirely in his right mind ; he does nothing but tramp, tramp, 
 tramp, the whole night long, and mutters so fiercely to him 
 self, and such dark words, it would make one tremble were 
 they not belied by his sweet face and sad smile," was the ob 
 servation of old Juana Lopez to her husband some ten days 
 after Arthur Stanley had been domiciled in their dwelling. 
 The old man muttered something about his being a foreigner 
 from the Wild Island, where they had all been busy cutting 
 one another s throats, and what could she expect otherwise ?" 
 
 " Expect? why that he must have become Spanish born 
 and bred since he has been in King Ferdinand s service so 
 long, and was such a boy when he left England." 
 
 " Stuff, woman ; there s no taking the foreign blood out 
 of him, try as you will," growled the old man, who in com 
 mon with many of his class, was exceedingly annoyed that a 
 foreigner should possess so much of the King s confidence, 
 and not a little displeased that his dwelling should have been 
 fixed on for the young officer s quarters. " It would not have 
 been Isabella, God bless her ! to have chosen such a minion ; 
 she tolerates him for Ferdinand s sake ; but they will find him 
 out one day. Saint lago forbid the evil don t fall first." 
 
 " Now that is all prejudice, Viego Pedro, and you know 
 it. Bless his beautiful face ! there is no thought of evil 
 there, I d stake my existence. He is tormented in his mind 
 about something, poor youth ; but his eyes are too bright 
 and his smile too sad for any thing evil." 
 
 " Hold your foolish tongue : you women think if a man is 
 better looking than his fellows, he is better in every respect 
 poor fools as ye are ; but as for this Englisher, with such 
 
76 
 
 a white skin and glossy curls, and blue eyes why I d be 
 ashamed to show myself amongst men pshaw the woman s 
 blind." 
 
 " Nay, Viego Pedro, prejudice has folded her kerchief 
 round your eyes, not mine," retorted the old dame; and their 
 war of words concerning the merits and demerits of their 
 unconscious lodger continued, till old Pedro grumbled him 
 self off, and his more light-hearted helpmate busied herself 
 in preparing a tempting meal for her guest, which, to her 
 great disappointment, shared the fate of many others, and 
 left his table almost untouched. 
 
 To attempt description of Stanley s feelings would be as 
 impossible as tedious ; yet some few words must be said. 
 His peculiarly enthusiastic, perhaps romantic disposition, had 
 caused him to cling tenaciously to the memory of Marie, even 
 after the revelation of a secret which to other men would 
 have seemed to place an impassable barrier between them. 
 To Arthur, difficulties in pursuit of an object only rendered 
 its attainment the more intensely desired. Perhaps his hope 
 rested on the conviction not so much of his own faithful love 
 as on the unchangeable nature of hers. He might have 
 doubted himself, but to doubt her was impossible. Conscious 
 himself that, wrong as it might be, he could sacrifice every 
 thing for her country, rank, faith itself, even the prejudice 
 of centuries, every thing but honor an ideal stronger in 
 the warrior s mind than even creed he could not and would 
 not believe that her secret was to her sacred as his honor to 
 him, and that she could no more turn renegade from the 
 fidelity which that secret comprised, than he could from his 
 honor. She had spoken of but one relation, an aged father ; 
 and he felt in his strong hopefulness, that it was only for 
 that father s sake she had striven to conquer her love, and 
 had told him they might never wed, and that when that link 
 was broken he might win her yet. 
 
 Loving and believing thus, his anguish in beholding her 
 the wife of another may be imagined. The more he tried to 
 think, the more confused and mystifying his thoughts became. 
 Every interview which he had with her, and more especially 
 that in the Yale of Cedars, was written in indelible charaC 
 ters on his heart and brain ; and while beholding her as the 
 wife of Morales contradicted their every word, still it could 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 77 
 
 not blot them from his memory ; and he would think, and 
 think, in the vain search for but one imaginary reason, how 
 ever faint, however unsatisfactory, for her conduct, till his 
 brain turned, and his senses reeled. It was not the mere 
 suffering of unrequited love; it was the misery of having been 
 deceived ; and then, when racked and tortured by the impos 
 sibility of discovering some cause for this deceit, her secret 
 would flash across him, and the wild thought arise that both 
 he and Don Ferdinand were victims to the magic and the 
 sorcery, by means of which alone her hated race could ever 
 make themselves beloved. 
 
 Compelled as he was to mingle with the Court as usual, 
 those powerful emotions were of course always under strcng 
 restraint, except when in the solitude of his own quarters. 
 That when there he should give them vent, neither conscious 
 of, nor caring for the remarks they excited from his host and 
 hostess., was not very remarkable ; perhaps he was scarcely 
 aware how powerfully dislike towards Don Ferdinand shared 
 his thoughts with his vain suggestions as to the cause of 
 Marie s falsity. The reason for this suddenly aroused dislike 
 he could not indeed have denned, except that Morales had 
 obtained without difficulty a treasure, to obtain which he had 
 offered to sacrifice so much. So fourteen days passed, and 
 though firmly resolved to have one more interview with 
 Marie, no opportunity had presented itself, nor in fact could 
 he feel that he had as yet obtained the self-command neces 
 sary for the cold, calm tone which he intended to assume. It 
 happened that once or twice the King had made Arthur his 
 messenger to Don Ferdinand; but since the night of the 
 entertainment he had never penetrated farther than the 
 audience chamber, there performed his mission briefly, and 
 departed. Traversing the principal street of Segovia one 
 morning, he was accosted somewhat too courteously, he 
 thought, for their slight acquaintance, by Don Luis Garcia. 
 
 "And whither so early, Senor Stanley?" he inquired so 
 courteously that it could not give offence, particularly as it 
 followed other queries of a graceful greeting, and was not 
 put forth abruptly. 
 
 " To the mansion of Don Ferdinand Morales," replied 
 the young Englishman, frankly. 
 
 "Indeed! from the King " 
 
78 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 Stanley answered in the affirmative, too deeply engrossed 
 with his own thoughts, to attend much to his companion, 
 whose interrogations he would undoubtedly in a more natu 
 ral mood have felt inclined to resent. 
 
 " Don Ferdinand Morales ranks as high in the favor of 
 the people as of the King a marvellous conjunction of 
 qualities, is it not, Senor Stanley ?" continued Garcia, after 
 walking by his side some minutes in silence. " A Monarch s 
 favorite is seldom that of his subjects ; but Morales is unu 
 sually deserving. I wonder not at the love he wins." 
 
 " Neither Ferdinand nor Isabella bestows favors on the 
 undeserving," briefly, almost sternly answered Stanley, with 
 an unconscious change of Jione and manner, which did not 
 escape his companion. 
 
 " And he is so singularly fortunate, every thing he touches 
 seems to turn to gold an universal idol, possessed too of 
 such wealth and splendor, and, above all, with such a being 
 to share them with him. Fortune has marked him favored 
 in all things. Didst ever behold a creature equal in loveli 
 ness to Donna Marie, Senor Stanley?" 
 
 A momentary, and to any other but Don Luis, incom 
 prehensible emotion, passed over the countenance of Stanley 
 at these words ; but though it was instantly recalled, and 
 indifference both in expression of countenance and voice re 
 sumed, it passed not unobserved ; and Don Luis, rejoicing 
 in the pain he saw he was inflicting, continued an eloquent 
 panegyric on the wife of Morales, the intense love she bore 
 her husband, and the beautiful unity and harmony of their 
 wedded life, until they parted within a short distance of the 
 public entrance to Don Ferdinand s mansion, towards which 
 Stanley turned. 
 
 Don Luis looked after his retreating form, and folding 
 his arms in his mantle, bent down his head, assuming an at 
 titude which to passers-by expressed the meek humility of 
 his supposed character. There was a wild gleam of triumph 
 in his eyes which he knew, and therefore they were thus bent 
 down, and there were thoughts in his heart which might 
 thus be worded : " I have it all, all. Waiting has done 
 better for me than acting ; but now the watch is over, and 
 the coil is laid. There have been those who, standing on 
 the loftiest pinnacle, have fallen by a touch to earth ; none 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 79 
 
 knew the how or wherefore." And shrouding himself closer 
 in his wrapping mantle, he walked rapidly on till he reached 
 a side entrance into the gardens, which stretched for many 
 acres around Don Ferdinand s mansion. Here again he 
 paused, looked cautiously around him, then swiftly entered, 
 and softly closed the door behind him. 
 
 Already agitated by the effort to retain calmness during 
 Garcia s artful words, it was no light matter for Stanley to 
 compose himself for his interview with Morales. Vain was 
 the gentle courtesy of the latter, vain his kindly words, vain 
 his confidential reception of the young Englishman, to re 
 move from Arthur s heart the wild torrent of passion called 
 forth by Garcia s allusion to Marie s intense love for her 
 husband. To any one but Morales, his abrupt and uncon 
 nected replies, his strange and uncourteous manners, must 
 have excited irritation ; but Don Ferdinand only saw that 
 the young man was disturbed and pained, and for this very 
 reason exerted his utmost kindliness of words and manner 
 to draw him from himself. They parted after an interval of 
 about half an hour, Morales to go to the castle as requested ; 
 Arthur to proceed, as he thought, to the environs of the city. 
 But in vain did he strive with himself. The window of the 
 room in which he had met Don Ferdinand looked into the 
 garden, and there, slowly pacing a shaded path, he had re 
 cognized the figure of Marie. The intense desire to speak 
 with her once more, and so have the fatal mystery solved, 
 became too powerful for control. Every feeling of honor 
 and delicacy perished before it, and hardly knowing what he 
 did, he retraced his steps, entered unquestioned, passed 
 through the hall to the gardens beyond, and in less than ten 
 minutes after he had parted from her husband, stood in the 
 presence of Marie. 
 
80 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " If she be false, oh, then Heaven mock itself! 
 I ll not believe it." 
 
 SHAKSFEARE. 
 
 DON FERDINAND had scarcely quitted his mansion ere fleet 
 steps resounded behind him, and turning, he beheld Eon 
 Luis Garcia, who greeted him with such a marked expres 
 sion, both in voice and face, of sadness, that Morales invol 
 untarily paused, and with much commiseration inquired what 
 had chanced. 
 
 " Nothing of personal misfortune, my friend ; but there 
 are times when the spirit is tortured by a doubtful duty. 
 To preserve silence is undoubtedly wrong, and may lead to 
 wrong, yet greater ; and yet, to speak, is so painfully dis 
 tressing to my peace-loving disposition, that I am tossed for 
 ever on conflicting impulses, and would gladly be guided by 
 another." 
 
 " If you would be guided by my counsel, my good friend, 
 I must entreat a clearer statement," replied Morales, half 
 smiling. " You have spoken so mysteriously, that I cannot 
 even guess your meaning. I cannot imagine one so straight 
 forward and strong-minded as yourself hesitating and doubt 
 ful as to duty, of whatever nature." 
 
 "Not if it concerned myself: but in this case I must 
 either continue to see wrong done, with the constant dread 
 of its coming to light, without my interference ; or inflict 
 anguish where I would gladly give but joy ; and very pro 
 bably, in addition, have my tale disbelieved, and myself con 
 demned, though for that matter, personal pain is of no con 
 sequence, could I but pursue the right." 
 
 " But how stands this important case, my good friend ?" 
 
 " Thus : I have been so unfortunate as to discover that 
 one is false, whom her doting husband believes most true 
 that the lover of her youth has returned, and still holds her 
 imagination chained that she meets him in secret, and has 
 appointed another clandestine interview, from which who may 
 tell the evil that may ensue ? I would prevent this interview 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 81 
 
 would recall her to her better nature, or put her husband 
 on his guard : but how dare I do this how interfere thus 
 closely between man and wife ? Counsel me, my friend, in 
 pity !" 
 
 " If you have good foundation for this charge, Don Luis. 
 it is your duty to speak out," replied Morales, gravely. 
 
 "And to whom?" 
 
 " To the lawful guardian of this misguided one her hus 
 band." 
 
 " But how can I excite his anguish how turn his present 
 heaven of joy to a very hell of woe, distrust, suspicion ?" 
 
 "Does the leech heed his patient s anguish when proling 
 a painful wound, or cutting away the mortified flesh ? His 
 office is not enviable, but it is necessary, and, if feelingly per 
 formed, we love him not the less. Speak out. Don Luis, 
 openly, frankly, yet gently, to the apparently injured hus 
 band. Do more: counsel him to act as openly, as gently 
 with his seemingly guilty wife ; and that which now appears 
 so dark, may be proved clear, and joy dawn again for both, 
 by a few words of mutual explanation. But there must be 
 no mystery on your part no either heightening or smooth 
 ing what you may have learnt. Speak out the simple truth ; 
 insinuate nought, for that love is worthless, that husband 
 false to his sacred charge, if he believes in guilt ere he ques 
 tions the accused." 
 
 Don Luis looked on the open countenance before him for 
 a few minutes without reply, thinking, not if he should spare 
 him, but if his plans might not be foiled, did Morales him 
 self act as he had said. But the pause was not long : never 
 had he read human countenance aright, if Arthur Stanley 
 were not at that moment with Marie. He laid his hand on 
 Don Ferdinand s arm, and so peculiar was the expression on 
 his countenance, so low and plaintively musical the tone in 
 which he said, " God give you strength, my poor friend," that 
 the rich color unconsciously forsook the cheek of the hardy 
 warrior, leaving him pallid as death ; and so sharp a thrill 
 passed through his heart, that it was with difficulty he retain 
 ed his feet ; but Morales was not merely physically, he was 
 mentally brave. With a powerful, a mighty effort of will, he 
 called life, energy, courage back, and said, sternly and unfal 
 teringly, " Don Luis Garcia, again I say, speak out ! I un- 
 6 
 
82 THE VALE OF CEDARS ; 
 
 derstand you ; it is I who am the apparently injured hus 
 band. Marie ! Great God of heaven ! that man should 
 dare couple her pure name with ignominy ! Marie ! my 
 Marie ! the seemingly guilty wife ! Well, put forth your 
 tale : I am not the man to shrink from my own words. 
 Speak truth, and I will hear you ; and and, if I can, not 
 spurn you from me as a liar ! Speak out !" 
 
 Don Luis needed not a second bidding : he had remarked, 
 seen, and heard quite enough the evening of Don Ferdinand s 
 banquet, to require nothing more than the simple truth, to 
 harrow the heart of his hearer, even while Morales disbeliev 
 ed his every word. Speciously, indeed, he turned his own 
 mere suspicions as to Marie s unhappiness, and her early love 
 for Arthur, into realities, founded on certain information, but 
 with this sole exception he told but the truth. Without 
 moving a muscle, without change of countenance, or uttering 
 a syllable of rejoinder, Don Ferdinand listened to Garcia s 
 recital, fixing his large piercing eye on his face, with a gaze 
 that none but one so hardened in hypocrisy could have with 
 stood. Once only Morales s features contracted for a single 
 instant, as convulsed by some spasm. It was the recollec 
 tion of Marie s passionate tears, the night of the festival ; and 
 yet she had shed them on his bosom. How could she be 
 guilty ? And the spasm passed. 
 
 " I have heard you, Don Luis," he said, so calmly, as Gar 
 cia ceased, that the latter started. " If there be truth in 
 this strange tale, I thank you for imparting it : if it be false 
 if you have dared pollute my ears with one word that has 
 no foundation, cross not my path again, lest I be tempted to 
 turn and crush you as I would a loathsome reptile, who in 
 very wantonness has stung me." 
 
 He turned from him rapidly, traversed the brief space, 
 and disappeared within his house. Don Luis looked after 
 him with a low, fiendish laugh, and plunged once more into 
 the gardens. 
 
 " Is the Senora within ?" inquired Don Ferdinand, en 
 countering his wife s favorite attendant at the entrance of 
 Marie s private suit of rooms ; and though his cheek was 
 somewhat pale, his voice was firm as usual. The reply was 
 in the negative ; the Senora was in the gardens. " Alone 1 
 Why are you not with her as usual, Manuella?" 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 83 
 
 " I was with her, my Lord ; she only dismissed me ten 
 minutes ago." 
 
 Without rejoinder, Don Ferdinand turned in the direc 
 tion she had pointed out. It was a lovely walk, in the most 
 shaded parts of the extensive grounds, walled by alternate 
 orange and lemon trees ; some with the blossom, germ, and 
 fruit all on one tree; others full of the paly fruit; and 
 others, again, as wreathed with snow, from the profusion of 
 odoriferous flowers. An abrupt curve led to a grassy plot, 
 from which a sparkling fountain sent up its glistening show 
 ers, before a luxurious bower, which Morales s tender care had 
 formed of large and healthy slips, cut from the trees of the 
 Vale of Cedars, and flowery shrubs and variegated moss from 
 the same spot ; and there he had introduced his Marie, call 
 ing it by the fond name of " Home !" As he ncared the 
 curve, voices struck on his ear Marie s and another s. She 
 was not alone ! and that other ! could it be ? nay, it was 
 there was neither doubt nor hesitation it was his his 
 against whom Don Luis had warned him. Was it for this 
 Marie had dismissed her attendant ? It could not be ; it 
 was mere accident, and Don Ferdinand tried to go forward 
 to address them as usual ; but the effort even for him was 
 too much, and he sunk down on a rustic bench near him, and 
 burying his head in his hands, tried to shut out sight and 
 sound till power and calmness would return. But though 
 he could close his eyes on all outward things, he could not 
 deaden hearing; and words reached him which, while he 
 strove not to hear, seemed to be traced by a dagger s point 
 upon his heart, and from very physical agony deprived him 
 of strength to move. 
 
 " And thou wilt give me no reason idle, weak as it must 
 be thou wilt refuse me even an excuse for thy perjury?" 
 rung on the still air, in the excited tones of Arthur Stanley. 
 " Wealth, beauty, power ay, they are said to be omnipotent 
 with thy false sex ; but little did I dream that it could be so with 
 thee ; and in six short months nay, less time, thou couldst 
 conquer love, forget past vows, leap over the obstacle thou 
 saidst must part us, and wed another ! Twas short space to 
 do so much !" And he laughed a bitter, jibing laugh. 
 
 " It was short, indeed !" faintly articulated Marie ; u but 
 long enough to bear." 
 
84 
 
 " To bear !" he answered ; " nay, what hadst thou to 
 bear ? The petted minion of two mighty sovereigns, the idol 
 of a nation came, and sought, and won how couldst thou 
 resist him 1 What were my claims to his an exile and a 
 foreigner, with nought but my good sword, and a love so deep, 
 so faithful (his voice softened), that it formed my very being? 
 But what was love to thee before ambition ? Oh, fool, fool 
 that I was, to believe a woman s tongue to dream that 
 truth could dwell in those sweet-sounding words those tears, 
 that seemed to tell of grief in parting, bitter as my own 
 fool, to believe thy specious tale ! There could be no cause 
 to part us, else wherefore art thou Morales s wife ? Thou 
 didst never love me ! From the first deceived, thou calledst 
 forth affection, to triumph in thy power, and wreck the slen^ 
 der joys left to an exile ! And yet I love thee oh, God, 
 how deeply !" 
 
 " Arthur !" answered Marie, and her bloodless lips so 
 quivered, they could scarcely frame the word <: wrong I have 
 done thee, grievous wrong; but oh! blast not my memory 
 with injuries I have not inflicted. Look back ; recall our 
 every interview. Had I intended to deceive, to call forth 
 the holiest feelings of the human heart, to make them a 
 mock and scorn, to triumph in a power, of whose very exist 
 ence till thou breathed love I was unconscious should I 
 have said our love was vain was so utterly hopless, we could 
 never be other than strangers should I have conjured thee 
 to leave aye, and to forget me. had I not felt that I loved 
 too well, and trembled for myself yet more than for thee ? 
 Oh, Arthur, Arthur, do not add to the bitterness of this 
 moment by unjust reproaches ! I have injured thee enough 
 by my ill-fated beauty, and too readily acknowledged love : 
 but more I have not done. From the first I said that there 
 was a fate around us thine I might never be 1" 
 
 " Then wherefore wed Morales ? Is he not as I am, and 
 therefore equally unmeet mate for thee if, indeed, thy talc 
 be true ? Didst thou not tell me, when I implored thee to 
 say if thy hand was pledged unto another, that such misery 
 was spared thee thou wert free, and free wouldst remain 
 while thy heart was mine ?" 
 
 " Ay," faltered Marie, " thou rememberest all too well " 
 
 " Then didst thou not deceive ? Art thou not as perjur- 
 
85 
 
 ed now as I once believed thee true as false as thou art 
 lovely ? How couldst thou love, if so soon it was as nought ?" 
 
 " Then believe me all thou sayest," replied Marie, more 
 firmly " believe me thus false and perjured, and forget me, 
 Senor Stanley ; crush even my memory from thy heart, and 
 give not a thought to one so worthless ! Mystery as there 
 was around me when we first met, there is a double veil 
 around me now, whieh I may not lift even to clear myself 
 with thee. Turn thy love into the scorn which my perjury 
 deserves, and leave me." 
 
 " I will not !" burst impetuously from Arthur, as he sud 
 denly flung himself at her feet. " Marie, I will not leave 
 thee thus ; say but that some unforeseen circumstances, not 
 thine own will, made thee the wife of this proud Spaniard ; 
 say but that neither thy will nor thy affections were consult 
 ed, that no word of thine could give him hope he was beloved 
 that thou lovest me still ; say but this, and I will bless thee !" 
 
 " Ask it not, Senor Stanley. The duty of a wife would 
 be of itself sufficient to forbid such words ; with me gratitude 
 and reverence render that duty more sacred still. Wouldst 
 thou indeed sink me so low as, even as a wife, to cease to 
 respect me ? Rise, Senor Stanley ! such posture is unsuited 
 to thee or me ; rise, and leave me ; we must never meet alone 
 again." 
 
 " Almost overpowered with contending emotions, as he was, 
 there was a dignity, the dignity of truth in that brief appeal, 
 which Arthur vainly struggled to resist. She had not at 
 tempted a single word of exoneration, and yet his reproaches 
 rushed back into his own heart as cruel and unjust, and an 
 swer he had none. He rose mechanically, and as he turned 
 aside to conceal the weakness, a deep and fearful imprecation 
 suddenly broke from him ; and raising her head, Marie be 
 held her husband. 
 
 Every softened feeling fled from Stanley s breast ; the 
 passionate anger which Marie s words had calmed towards 
 herself, now burst fourth unrestrained towards Morales. His 
 sudden appearance bringing the conviction that he had played 
 the spy upon their interview, roused his native irritation al 
 most into madness. His sword flew from its scabbard, and 
 in fearful passion he exclaimed " Tyrant and coward \ 
 How durst thou play the spy ? Is it not enough that thou 
 
ae 
 
 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 hast robbed me of a treasure whose value thou canst never 
 know ? for her love was mine alone ere thou earnest between 
 us, and by base arts and cruel force compelled her to be 
 thine. Ha ! wouldst thou avoid me ? refuse to cross my 
 sword ! Draw, or I will proclaim thee coward in the face of 
 the whole world !" 
 
 With a faint cry, Marie had thrown herself between them ; 
 but strength failed with the effort, and she would have fallen 
 *aad not Morales upheld her with his left arm. But she had 
 not fainted ; every sense felt wrung into unnatural acuteness 
 Except to support her, Morales had made no movement ; his 
 tall figure was raised to its fullest height, and his right arm 
 calmly uplifted as his sole protection against Arthur. " Put 
 up your sword," he said firmly, and fixing his large dark eyes 
 upon his irritated adversary, with a gaze far more of sorrow 
 than of anger, " I will not fight thee. Proclaim me what 
 thou wilt. I fear neither thy sword nor thee. Go hence, 
 unhappy boy ; when this chafed mood is past, thou wilt re 
 pent this rashness, and perchance find it harder to forgive 
 thyself than I shall to forgive thee. Go ; thou art over-wrought. 
 We are not equals now." 
 
 Stanley involuntarily dropped the point of his sword. "I 
 obey thee," he said, in that deep concentrated tone, which 
 betrays strong passion yet more than violent words ; " obey 
 thee, because I would not strike an undefended foe ; but we 
 shall meet again in a more fitting place and season. Till 
 then, hear me, Don Ferdinand ! We have hitherto been as 
 companions in arms, and as friends, absent or together ; 
 from this moment the tie is broken, and for ever. I am thy 
 foe ! one who hath sworn to take thy life, or lose his own. I 
 will compel thee to meet me ! Ay, shouldst thou shun me, 
 to the confines of the world I will track and find thee. 
 Coward and spy ! And yet men think thee noble !" 
 
 A bitter laugh of scorn concluded these fatal words. He 
 returned his sword violently to its sheath ; the tread of his 
 armed heel was heard for a few seconds, and then all was 
 silent. 
 
 Morales neither moved nor spoke, and Marie lifted her 
 head to look on his face in terror. The angry words of 
 Arthur had evidently fallen either wholly unheeded, or per 
 haps unheard. There was but one feeling expressed on those 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 87 
 
 chiseled features, but one thought, but one conviction ; a 
 low, convulsive sob broke from her. and she fainted in his 
 
 arms. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Why, when my life on that one hope . cast, 
 Why didst thou chain my future to her past 1 
 Why not a breath to say she loved before V 
 
 BULWER. 
 
 " Oh leave me not ! or know 
 Before thou goest, the heart that wronged thee so 
 But wrongs no more." 
 
 BULWER. 
 
 IN the first painful moments of awakening sense, Marie was 
 only conscious of an undefined yet heavy weight on heart and 
 brain ; but as strength returned she started up with a faint 
 cry, and looked wildly round her. The absence of Morales, 
 the conviction that he had left her to the care of others, that 
 for the first time he had deserted her couch of pain, lighted 
 up as by an electric flash the marvellous links of memory, 
 and the whole of that morning s anguish, every word spoken, 
 every feeling endured, rushed back upon her with such over 
 whelming force as for the moment to deprive her of the little 
 strength she had regained. Why could she not die ? was 
 the despairing thought that followed. What had she to live 
 for, when it was her ill fate to wreck the happiness of all who 
 loved her? and yet in that moment of agony she never seem 
 ed to have loved her husband more. It was of him she 
 thought far more than of Arthur, whose angry words and 
 fatal threat rung again and again in her ears. 
 
 " My Lord had only just left when you recovered con- 
 sciousness, Senora," gently remarked her principal attend 
 ant, whose penetration had discovered the meaning of Marie s 
 imploring look and passive silence, so far at least that it was 
 Don Ferdinand she sought, and that his absence pained her. 
 " He tarried till life seemed returning, and then reluctantly 
 
88 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 departed for the castle, where he had been summoned, he 
 said, above an hour before." 
 
 " To the castle !" repeated Marie internally. " Ay, ho 
 will do his duty, though his heart be breaking. He will take 
 his place and act his part, and men will report him calm, 
 wise, collected, active as his wont, and little dream his wife, 
 his treasured wife, has bowed his lofty spirit to the dust, and 
 laid low his light of home. Tell me when he returns," she 
 said aloud, " and bid all leave me but yourself:" 
 
 Two hours passed, and Marie lay outwardly still and 
 calm, neither speaking nor employed. But at the end of that 
 time she started up hastily, resumed the robe which had been 
 cast aside, and remained standing, as intently listening to 
 some distant sound. Several minutes elapsed, and though 
 she had sunk almost unconsciously on the seat Manuella 
 proffered, it was not till full half an hour that she spoke. 
 
 " The Senor has returned," she said calmly ; " bid Albe- 
 ric hither." 
 
 The page came, and she quietly inquired if any strangers 
 had entered with his master. 
 
 " No, Senora, he is alone." 
 
 " Has he long returned ?" 
 
 " Almost half an hour, Senora. He went directly to his 
 closet, desiring that he might not be disturbed." 
 
 Ten minutes more, and Marie was standing in her hus 
 band s presence, but unobserved. For the first time in his 
 whole life had her light step approached him unheard. For 
 two hours he had borne a degree of mental suffering which 
 would either have crushed or roused any other man into 
 wildest fury borne it with such an unflinching spirit, that 
 in neither look nor manner, nor even tone, had he departed 
 from his usual self, or given the slightest occasion for re 
 mark. But the privacy of his closet obtained, the mighty 
 will gave way, and the stormy waves rolled over him, dead 
 ening every sense and thought and feeling, save the one ab 
 sorbing truth, that he had never been beloved. Father and 
 child had deceived him ; for now every little word, every 
 trifling occurrence before his marriage in the Vale of Cedars 
 rushed back on his mind, and Henriquez imploring entreaty 
 under all circumstances to love and cherish her was ex 
 plained. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 89 
 
 " Ferdinand !" exclaimed a voice almost inarticulate from 
 sobs ; and starting, he beheld his wife kneeling by his side. 
 " Oh ! my husband, do not turn from me, do not hate me. 
 I have none but thee." 
 
 He tried to withdraw his hand, but the words, the tone, 
 unmanned him, and throwing his arm round her, he clasped 
 her convulsively to his heart, and she felt his slow scalding 
 tears fall one by one, as wrung from the heart s innermost 
 depths, upon her cheek. 
 
 For several minutes there was silence. The strong man s 
 emotion is as terrible to witness as terrible to feel. Marie 
 was the first to regain voice ; and in low beseeching accents 
 she implored him to listen to her to hear ere he condemned. 
 
 " Not thus," was his sole reply, as he tried to raise her 
 from her kneeling posture to the cushion by his side. 
 
 " Yes, thus my husband. I will not rise till thou say st 
 thou canst forgive ; wilt take the loving and the weak back 
 to thy heart, if not to love as thou hast loved, to strengthen 
 and forgive. I have not wronged thee. Were I false in 
 word or thought I would not kneel to ask forgiveness, but 
 crawl to thy feet and die ! If thou couldst but know the 
 many, many times I have, longed to confess all ; the agony 
 to receive thy fond caress, thy trusting confidence, and know 
 myself deceiving; the terror lest thou shouldst discover 
 aught from other than myself; oh ! were it not for thy deep 
 woe, I could bless this moment, bidding me speak Truth once 
 more !" 
 
 " And say thou hast never loved me ? Wert true from 
 duty, not from love ? Marie, can I bear this ?" 
 
 " Yes for I do love thee. Oh ! my husband, I turn to 
 thee alone, under my God, for rest and peace. If I might not 
 give thee the wild passions of my youth, when my heart was 
 sought, and won ere I was myself conscious of the precipice 
 I neared, I cling to thee now alone I would be thine alone. 
 Oh, take me to thy heart, and let me lie there. Ferdinand, 
 Ferdinand ! forgive me ! love save me from myself 1" 
 
 " Ay, now and ever ! Come to my heart, beloved one !" 
 answered her husband, rousing himself from all of personal 
 suffering to comfort her ; and he drew her to him till her 
 head rested on his bosom. " Now tell me thy sorrowing tale, 
 to me so wrapt in mystery. Fear not from me. It is enough 
 thou clingest to me in such sweet guileless confidence still." 
 
90 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 She obeyed him ; and the heavy weight of suffering years 
 semed lightening as she spoke. From her first meeting 
 Arthur, to that morning s harrowing interview, every feeling, 
 every incident, every throb of reproach and dread were re 
 vealed with such touching and childlike truth, that even in his 
 suffering, Morales unconsciously clasped his wife closer and 
 closer to him, as if her very confidence and truth rendered 
 her yet dearer than before, and inexpressibly soothed at the 
 very moment that they pained. Their interview was long, 
 but fraught with mutual comfort. Morales had believed, 
 when he entered his closet that day, that a dense cloud was 
 folded round him, sapping the very elements of life ; but 
 though he still felt as if he had received some heavy physical 
 blow, the* darkness had fled from his spirit, and light dawned 
 anew for both, beneath the heavenly rays of openness and 
 Truth. 
 
 " And Arthur ?" Marie said, as that long commune came 
 to a close; and she looked up with the fearless gaze of integ 
 rity in her husband s face. " Thou wilt forgive him, Ferdi 
 nand? he knew not what he said." 
 
 " Trust me, beloved one. I pity and forgive him. He 
 shall learn to love me, despite himself." 
 
 Great was the astonishment and terrible the disappoint 
 ment of Don Luis Garcia at the visible failure of one portion 
 of his nefarious schemes. Though seldom in Don Ferdi 
 nand s actual presence, he was perfectly aware that instead 
 of diminishing, Morales confidence in and love for his wife 
 had both increased, and that Marie was happier and more 
 quietly at rest than she had been since her marriage. But 
 though baffled, Garcia was not foiled. The calm, haughty 
 dignity which, whenever they did chance to meet, now cha 
 racterized Don Ferdinand s manner towards him ; the brief, 
 stern reply, if words were actually needed ; or complete 
 silence, betraying as it did the utter contempt and scorn 
 with which his crafty design was regarded, heightened his 
 every revengeful feeling, and hastened on his plans. 
 
 Two or three weeks passed : a calm security and peace 
 ful happiness had taken the place of storm and dread in Ma 
 rie s heart. She felt that it had been a secret consciousness 
 of wrong towards her husband, the dread of discovery occa 
 sioning estrangement, the constant fear of encountering 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 91 
 
 Stanley, which had weighed on her heart far more than for 
 mer feelings ; and now that the ordeal was past, that all was 
 known, and she could meet her husband s eye without one 
 thought concealed ; now that despite of all he could love and 
 cherish, aye, trust her still, she clung to him with love as 
 pure and fond and true as ever wife might feel ; and her 
 only thought of Stanley was prayer that peace might also 
 dawn for him. It was pain indeed to feel that the real rea 
 son of her wedding Ferdinand must for ever remain con 
 cealed. Could that have been spoken, one little sentence 
 said, all would have been explained, and Stanley s bitter feel 
 ings soothed. 
 
 It was the custom of Ferdinand and Isabella to gather 
 around them, about once a month, the wisest and the ablest 
 of their realm sometimes to hold council on public matters, 
 at others merely in friendly discussion on various subjects 
 connected with politics, the church, or war. In these meet 
 ings merit constituted rank, and mind nobility. They com 
 menced late, and continued several hours through the night. 
 To one of these meetings Don Ferdinand Morales had re 
 ceived a summons as usual. As the day neared, he became 
 conscious of a strange, indefinable sensation taking posses 
 sion of heart and mind, as impossible to be explained as to 
 be dismissed. It was as if some impassable and invisible, 
 but closely-hovering evil were connected with the day, blind 
 ing him as by a heavy pall to all beyond. He succeeded 
 in subduing the ascendency of the sensation, in some meas 
 ure, till the day itself; when, as the hours waned, it became 
 more and more overpowering. As he entered his wife s 
 apartment, to bid her farewell ere he departed for the castle, 
 it rose almost to suffocation in his throat, and he put his arm 
 round her as she stood by the widely-opened casement, and 
 remained by her side several minutes without speaking. 
 
 " Thou art not going to the castle yet, dearest ?" she in 
 quired. " Is it not much earlier than usual ?" 
 
 " Yes, love ; but I shall not ride to-night. I feel so 
 strangely oppressed, that I think a quiet walk in the night 
 air will recover me far more effectually than riding." 
 
 Marie looked up anxiously in his face. He was very pale, 
 and his hair was damp with the moisture on his forehead. 
 u Thou art unwell," she exclaimed ; " do not go to-night, dear- 
 
92 THE VALE OF CEDARS ; 
 
 est Ferdinand, stay with me. Thy presence is not so im 
 peratively needed." 
 
 He shook his head with a faint smile. " I must go, love, 
 for I have no excuse to stay away. I wish it were any other 
 night, indeed, for I would so gladly remain with thee ; but 
 the very wish is folly. I never shrunk from the call of duty 
 before, and cannot imagine what has come over me to-night ; 
 but I would sacrifice much for permission to stay within. Do 
 not look so alarmed, love, the fresh air will remove this vague 
 oppression, and give me back myself." 
 
 " Fresh air there is none," replied his young wife ; tZie 
 stillness is actually awful not a leaf moves, nor a breeze 
 stirs. It seems too, more than twilight darkness ; as if a 
 heavy storm were brooding." 
 
 " It may be ; oppression in the air is often the sole cause 
 of oppression in the mind. I should be almost glad if it 
 came, to explain this sensation." 
 
 " But if thou must go, thou wilt not loiter, Ferdinand." 
 
 " Why fearest thou the storm will harm me, love ? Nay, 
 I have frightened thee into foreboding. Banish it, or I shall 
 be still more loth to say farewell !" 
 
 He kissed her, as if to depart, but still he lingered though 
 neither spoke ; and then, as with an irresistible and passion 
 ate impulse, he clasped her convulsively to his heart, and 
 murmuring hoarsely, " God for ever and ever bless thee, my 
 own beloved !" released her, and was gone. 
 
 On quitting his mansion and entering the street, the 
 dense weight of the atmosphere became more and more ap 
 parent. The heat was so oppressive that the streets were 
 actually deserted even the artisans had closed their stores ; 
 darkness had fallen suddenly, shrouding the beautiful twi 
 light peculiar to Spain as with a pall. Morales unconsciously 
 glanced towards the west, where, scarcely half-an-hour be 
 fore, the sun had sunk gloriously to rest ; and there all was 
 not black. Resting on the edge of the hill, was a far-spread 
 ing crimson cloud, not the rosy glow of sunset, but the color 
 of blood. So remarkable was its appearance, that Don Fer 
 dinand paused in involuntary awe. The blackness closed 
 gradually round it ; but much decreased, and still decreas 
 ing in size, it floated onwards preserving its blood-red hue, 
 in appalling contrast with the murky sky. Slowly Morales 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 93 
 
 turned in the direction of the castle, glancing up at times, 
 and unable to suppress a thrill of supernatural horror, as he 
 observed this remarkable appearance floating just before him 
 wherever he turned. Denser and denser became the atmos 
 phere, and blacker the sky, till he could not see a single yard 
 before him ; thunder growled in the distance, and a few vivid 
 flashes of lightning momentarily illumined the gloom, but 
 still the cloud remained. Its course became swifter ; but it 
 decreased in size, floating onwards, till, to Morales strained 
 gaze, it appeared to remain stationary over one particularly 
 lonely part of the road, known by the name of the Calle 
 Soledad, which he was compelled to pass ; becoming smaller 
 and smaller, till, as he reached the spot, it faded into utter 
 darkness, and all around was black. 
 
 That same evening, about an hour before sunset, Arthur 
 Stanley, overpowered by the heat, and exhausted with some 
 fatiguing military duties, hastily unbuckled his sword, flung 
 it carelessly from him, and, drinking off a large goblet of 
 wine, which, as usual, stood ready for him on his table, threw 
 himself on his couch, and sunk into a slumber so profound 
 that he scarcely seemed to breathe. How he had passed 
 the interval which had elapsed since his interview with Ma 
 rie and her husband, he scarcely knew himself. His mili 
 tary duties were performed mechanically, a mission for the 
 king to Toledo successfully accomplished ; but he himself 
 was conscious only of one engrossing thought, which no cool 
 ing and gentler temper had yet come to subdue. I*i was a 
 relief to acquit Marie of intentional falsehood a relief to 
 have some imaginary object on which to vent bitterness and 
 anger ; and headstrong and violent without control or guide, 
 when his passions were concerned, he encouraged every an 
 gry feeling against Morales, caring neither to define nor sub 
 due them, till the longing to meet him in deadly combat, and 
 the how to do so, became the sole and dangerous occupation 
 of heart and mind. 
 
 Stanley s heavy and unnatural sleep had lasted some 
 hours, when he was suddenly and painfully awakened by so 
 loud and long a peal of thunder that the very house seemed 
 to rock and shake with the vibration. He started up on his 
 couch ; but darkness was around him so dense that he could 
 not distinguish a single object. This sleep had been unr 
 
94 
 
 freshing, and so heavy an oppression rested on his chest, 
 that he felt as if confined in a close cage of iron. He waved 
 his arms to feel if he were indeed at liberty. He moved in 
 free air, but the darkness seemed to suffocate him ; and 
 springing up, he groped his way to the window, and flung it 
 open. Feverish and restless, the very excitement of the 
 night seemed to urge him forth, thus to disperse the oppres 
 sive weight within. A flash of lightning playing on the pol 
 ished sheath of his sword, he secured it to his side, ard 
 threw his mantle over his shoulders. As he did so his hand 
 came in contact with the upper part of the she.ath, from 
 which the hilt should have projected ; but, to his astonish 
 ment and alarm, no hilt was there the sheath was empty. 
 
 In vain he racked his memory to ascertain whether h<s 
 had left his sword in its scabbard, or had laid the naked 
 blade, as was his custom, by him while he slept. The more 
 he tried to think the more confused his thoughts became. 
 His forehead felt circled with burning iron, his lips were dry 
 and parched, his step faltering as if under the influence of 
 some potent spell. He called for a light, but his voice sound 
 ed in his own ears thick and unnatural, and no. one answered. 
 His aged hosts had retired to rest an hour before, and though 
 they had noticed and drew their own conclusions from his 
 agitated movements, his call was unregarded. In five minutes 
 more they heard him rush from the house j and anxious as 
 she was to justify all the ways and doings of her handsome 
 lodger, old Juanna was this night compelled to lean to her 
 husband s ominously expressed belief, that no one would 
 voluntarily go forth on such an awful night, save for deeds 
 of evil. 
 
 His rapid pace and open path were illumined every al 
 ternate minute with the vivid lightning, and the very excite 
 ment of the storm partially removed the incomprehensible 
 sensations under which Stanley labored. He turned in the 
 direction of the castle, perhaps with the unconfessed hope of 
 meeting some of his companions in arms returning from the 
 royal meeting, and in their society to shake off the spell 
 which chained him. As he neared the Calle Soledad the 
 ground suddenly became slippery, as with some thick fluid, 
 of what nature the dense darkness prevented his discovering, 
 his foot came in contact with some heavy substance lying 
 
OR., THE MARTYR. 95 
 
 right across his path. He stumbled and fell, and his dress 
 and hands became literrally dyed with the same hue as the 
 ground. He started up in terror ; a long vivid flash linger 
 ing more than a minute in the air, disclosed the object against 
 which he had fallen ; and paralyzed with horror, pale, ghastly, 
 as if suddenly turned to stone, he remained. He uttered no 
 word nor cry ; but flash after flash played around him, and 
 still beheld him gazing in stupefied and motionless horror on 
 the appalling sight before him. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1st MONK. The storm increases ; hark ! how dismally 
 
 It sounds along the cloisters ! 
 ******** 
 
 BERNARD. As on I hastened, bearing thus my light, 
 Across my path, not fifty paces off, 
 I saw a murdered corse, stretched on its back. 
 Smeared with new blood, as though but freshly slain. 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 THE apartment adjoining the council-room of the castle, and 
 selected this night as the scene of King Ferdinand s banquet, 
 was at the commencement of the storm filled with the ex 
 pected guests. From forty to fifty were there assembled, 
 chosen indiscriminately from the Castilians and Arragonese, 
 the first statesmen and bravest warriors of the age. But the 
 usual animated discussion, the easy converse, and eager 
 council, had strangely, and almost unconsciously, sunk into 
 a gloomy depression, so universal and profound, that every 
 effort to break from it, and resume the general topics of 
 interest, was fruitless. The King himself was grave almost 
 to melancholy, though more than once he endeavored to 
 shake it off, and speak as usual. Men found themselves 
 whispering to each other as if they feared to speak aloud as 
 if some impalpable and invisible horror were hovering round 
 them. It might have been that the raging storm without 
 affected all within, with a species of awe, to which even the 
 
96 THE VALE OF CEDARS ; 
 
 wisest and the bravest are liable when the Almighty utters 
 His voice in the tempest, and the utter nothingness of men 
 conies home to the proudest heart. But there was another 
 cause. One was missing from the council and the board ; 
 the seat of Don Ferdinand Morales was vacant, and unuttered 
 but absorbing anxiety occupied every mind. It was full two 
 hours, rather more, from the given hour of meeting; the 
 council itself had been delayed, and was at length held with 
 out him, but so unsatisfactory did it prove, that many subjects 
 were postponed. They adjourned to the banquet-room ; but 
 the wine circled but slowly, and the King leant back on his 
 chair, disinclined apparently for either food or drink. 
 
 " The storm increases fearfully," observed the aged Duke 
 of Murcia, a kinsman of the King, as a flash of lightning 
 blazed through the casements, of such extraordinary length 
 and brilliance, that even the numerous lustres, with which 
 the room was lighted, looked dark when it disappeared. It 
 was followed by a peal of thunder, loud as if~a hundred 
 cannons had been discharged above their heads, and causing 
 several glasses to be shivered on the board. " Unhappy those 
 compelled to brave it." 
 
 " Nay, better out than in," observed another. " There is 
 excitement in witnessing its fury, and gloom most depressing 
 in listening to it thus." 
 
 u Perchance tis the shadow of the coming evil," rejoined 
 Don Felix d Estaban. " Old legends say, there is never a 
 storm like this, without bringing some national evil on its 
 wings." 
 
 " Ha ! say they so ?" demanded the King, suddenly, that 
 his guests started. " And is there truth in it ?" 
 
 " The lovers of such marvels would bring your Grace 
 many proofs that some calamity always followed such a 
 tempest," replied Don Felix. "It may or may not be. For 
 my own part, I credit not such things. We are ourselves the 
 workers of evil no fatality lurking in storms." 
 
 " Fated or casual, if evil has occurred to Don Ferdinand 
 Morales, monarch and subject will alike have cause to asso 
 ciate this tempest with national calamity," answered the 
 King, betraying at once the unspoken, but engrossing sub 
 ject of his thoughts. "Who saw him last?" 
 
 Don Felix d Estaban replied that he had seen him that 
 day two hours before sunset. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 97 
 
 " And where, my Lord at home or abroad ?" 
 
 " In his own mansion, which he said he had not quitted 
 that day," was the rejoinder. 
 
 " And how seemed he ? In health as usual ?" 
 
 " Ay, my liege, save that he complained of a strange op 
 pressiveness, disinclining him for all exertion." 
 
 Did he allude to the council of to-night ?" 
 
 " He did, my Lord, rejoicing that he should be compelled 
 to rouse himself from his most unwonted mood of idleness." 
 
 " Then some evil has befallen him," rejoined the King ; 
 and the contraction of his brow denied the calmness, 
 implied by his unmoved tone. " We have done wrong in 
 losing all this time, Don Alonzo," he added, turning to the 
 Senor of Aguilar, " give orders that a band of picked men 
 scour every path leading hence to Morales mansion : head 
 them thyself, an thou wilt, we shall the more speedily receive 
 tidings. Thine eyes have been more fixed on Don Ferdi 
 nand s vacant seat, than on the board this last hour; so 
 hence, and speed thee, man. It may be he is ill : we have 
 seen men stricken unto death from one hour to the other. If 
 there be no trace of him in either path, hie thee to his man 
 sion ; but return not without news. Impalpable evil is ever 
 worse than the tangible and real." 
 
 Don Alonzo scarcely waited the conclusion of the King s 
 speech, so eager was he to depart ; and the longing looks 
 cast after him betrayed how many would have willingly join 
 ed him in his search. 
 
 { J Hir- wife ?" repeated the King, in answer to some sug 
 gestions of his kinsman s. " Nay, man ; hast thou yet to 
 learn, that Morales heart would break ere he would neglect 
 his duty ? No : physical incapacity would alone have suffi 
 cient power to keep him from us no mental ill." 
 
 If the effort to continue indifferent conversation had been 
 difficult before, it now became impossible. The very silence 
 felt ominous. What evil could have befallen? was asked 
 internally by each individual ; but the vague dread, the un% 
 defined horror of something terrible impending, prevented 
 all reply ; and so nearly an hour passed, when, far re 
 moved as was the council-room from the main body of thA 
 castle, a confusion as of the entrance of many feet, and the 
 
98 
 
 tumultuary sound of eager voices, was distinguished, seem 
 ing to proceed from the great hall. 
 
 " It cannot be Don Alonzo so soon returned," remarked 
 the Duke of Murcia ; but even as he spoke, and before the 
 King had time to make an impatient sign for silence, so in 
 tently was he listening, the Lord of Aguilar himself re-en 
 tered the apartment. 
 
 " Saints of heaven !" ejaculated the King, and his exclama 
 tion was echoed involuntarily by all around. The cheek of 
 the warrior, never known to blanch before, was white as 
 death ; his eye haggard and wild ; his step so faltering, that 
 his whole frame reeled. He sunk on the nearest seat, and, 
 with a shuddering groan, pressed both hands before his eyes, 
 
 " Wine ! wine ! give him wine !" cried Ferdinand impet 
 uously, pushing a brimming goblet towards him. " Drink, 
 man, and speak, in Heaven s name. What frightful object 
 hast thou seen, to bid thee quail, who never quailed before 1 
 Where is Morales ? Hast thou found him ?" 
 
 " Ay," muttered Don Alonzo, evidently struggling to re 
 call his energies, while the peculiar tone of the single mono 
 syllable caused every heart to shudder. 
 
 " And where is he ? Why came he not hither ? Why 
 neglect our royal summons ?" continued the King, hurrying 
 question after question with such an utter disregard of his 
 usual calm, imperturbable cautiousness, that it betrayed far 
 more than words how much he dreaded the Senor s reply. 
 " Speak, man ; what has detained him ?" 
 
 " Death /" answered the warrior, his suppressed grief and 
 horror breathing in his hollow voice ; and rising, he ap 
 proached the King s seat, and kneeling down, said in that 
 low, concentrated tone, which reaches every ear, though 
 scarce louder than a whisper, " Sire, he is murdered !" 
 
 " Murdered !" reiterated the King, as the word was 
 echoed in all the various intonations of horror, grief, and in 
 dignation from all around ; and he laid his hand heavily on 
 Aguilar s shoulder "Man, man, how can this be? Who 
 would dare lift up the assassin s hand against him him, the 
 favorite of our subjects as of ourselves ? Who had cause of 
 Ifenmity of even rivalship with him ? Thou art mistaken, 
 man ; it cannot be ! Thou art scared with the sight of mur 
 der, and no marvel; but it cannot be Morales thou hast 
 seen." 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 99 
 
 " Alas ! my liege, I too believed it not ; but the murder 
 ed corpse now lying in the hall will be too bloody witness of 
 my truth." 
 
 The King released his hold, and without a word of re 
 joinder, strode from the apartment, and hastily traversing 
 the long galleries, and many stairs, neither paused nor 
 spoke, till, followed by all his nobles, he reached the hall. It 
 was filled with soldiers, who. with loud and furious voices, 
 mingled execrations deep and fearful on the murderer, 
 with bitter lamentations on the victim. A sudden and 
 respectful hush acknowledged the presence of the Sovereign ; 
 Ferdinand s brows were darkly knit, his lip compressed, his 
 eyes flashing sternly over the dense crowd ; but he asked no 
 question, nor relaxed his hasty stride till he stood beside the 
 litter on which, covered with a mantle, the murdered One 
 was lying. For a single minute he evidently paused, and his 
 countenance, usually so controlled as never to betray emo 
 tion, visibly worked with some strong feeling, which seemed 
 to prevent the confirmation of his fears, by the trifling 
 movement of lifting up the mantle. But at length, and with 
 a hurried movement, it was cast aside ; and there lay that 
 noble form, cold, rigid in death ! The King pushed the 
 long, jetty hair, now clotted with gore, from the cheek on 
 which it had fallen ; and he recognized, too well, the high, 
 thoughtful brow, now white, cold as marble ; the large, dark 
 eye, whose fixed and glassy stare had so horribly replaced 
 the bright intelligence, the sparkling lustre so lately there. 
 The clayey, sluggish white of death was already on his 
 cheek ; his lip, convulsively compressed, and the left hand 
 tightly clenched, as if the soul had not been thus violently 
 reft from the body, without a strong pang of mortal agony. 
 His right hand had stiffened round the hilt of his unsheath 
 ed sword, for the murderous blow had been dealt from be 
 hind, and with such fatal aim, that death must have been 
 almost instantaneous, and the tight grasp of his sword the 
 mere instinctive movement of expiring nature. Awe-struck, 
 chilled to the heart, did the noble friends of the departed 
 gather round him. On the first removal of the mantle, an 
 irresistible yell of curses on the murderer burst forth from 
 the soldiery, wrought into fury at thus beholding their 
 almost idolized commander ; but the stern woe on the Sov 
 
100 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 ereign s face hushed them into silence ; and the groan of 
 grief and horror which escaped involuntarily from Ferdi 
 nand s lips, was heard throughout the hall. 
 
 " The murderer ?" at length demanded many of the nobles 
 at the same moment. "Who has dared do this awful deed? 
 Don Alonzo, is there no clue to his person no trace of his 
 path?" 
 
 " There is trace and clue enough," was the brief and 
 stern reply. " The murderer is secured !" 
 
 " Ha !" exclaimed the King, roused at once ; " secured, 
 sayest thou ? In our bitter grief we had well-nigh forgotten 
 justice. Bring forth the dastardly craven ; we would de 
 mand the reason of this cowardly blow ere we condemn him 
 to the death of torture which his crime demands. Let him 
 confront his victim. Why do you pause, my Lord ? Pro 
 duce the murderer." 
 
 Still Don Alonzo stood irresolute, and a full minute pass 
 ed ere he signed to the men who had accompanied him. A 
 figure was instantly led forward, his arms strongly secured 
 in his own mantle, and his hat so slouched over his face, that 
 not a feature could be distinguished. Still there was some 
 thing in his appearance that struck a cold chill of doubt to 
 the heart of the King, and in a voice strangely expressive of 
 emotion, he commanded " Remove his hat and mantle : we 
 should know that form." 
 
 He was obeyed, for there was no resistance on the part of the 
 prisoner, whose inner dress was also stained with blood, as 
 were his hands. His cheek was ashy pale ; his eye bloodshot 
 and pale ; and his whole appearance denoting such excessive 
 agitation, tnat it would have gone far to condemn him, even 
 had there been no other proof. 
 
 " Stanley !" burst from the astonished King, as a wild cry 
 ran round the hall, and " Death to the ungrateful foreigner!" 
 " Death to the base-born Englishman !" " Tortures and 
 death !" escaped, in every variety of intonation, from the fierce 
 soldiery, who, regardless even of their Sovereign s presence, 
 drew closer and closer round, clashing their weapons, and 
 with difficulty restrained from tearing him to pieces where he 
 stood. 
 
 " He was my foe," muttered the prisoner, almost uncon 
 scious of the import of his words, or how far they would con 
 
OK, THE MARTYR. 
 
 101 
 
 firm the suspicions against him. " He roobed me of happiness 
 he destined me to misery. I hated him ; but I did not 
 murder him. I swore to take his life or lose my own ; but 
 not thus not thus. Great God ! to see him lying there, and 
 feel it might have been my hand. Men, men ! would ye quench 
 hatred, behold its object stricken before you by a dastard 
 blow like this, and- ye will feel its enormity and horror. I 
 did not slay him ; I would give my life to the murderer s dag 
 ger to call him back, and ask his forgiveness for the thoughts 
 of blood I entertained against him ; but I touched him not 
 my sword is stainless." 
 
 " Thou liest, false traitor !" exclaimed Don Felix, fiercely, 
 and he held up the hilt and about four inches of a sword, the 
 remainder of which was still in the body. " Behold the evi 
 dence to thy black lie ! My liege, this fragment was found 
 beside the body deluged in gore. We know the hilt too well 
 to doubt, one moment, the name of its possessor ; there is not 
 another like it throughout Spain. It snapt in the blow, as if 
 more honorable than its master, it could not survive so foul 
 a stain. What arm should wield it save his own?" 
 
 A universal murmur of execration, acknowledged this 
 convincing evidence ; doubly confirmed, as it seemed to be by 
 the fearful start and muttered exclamation, on the part of 
 the prisoner the moment it was produced. The nobles throng 
 ed round the King, some entreating him to sentence the 
 midnight assassin to instant execution ; others, to retain him 
 in severest imprisonment till the proofs of his guilt could be 
 legally examined, and the whole European World hear of the 
 crime, and its chastisement ; lest they should say that as a 
 foreigner, justice was refused to him. To this opinion the 
 King leaned. 
 
 " Ye counsel well and wisely, my lords," he said. " It 
 shall not be said, because the murdered was our subject, and 
 the murderer an alien, that he was condemned without exa 
 mination of proofs against him, or being heard in his own 
 defence. Seven suns hence we will ourselves examine every 
 evidence for or against him, which your penetration, my lords, 
 can collect. Till then Don Felix, the prisoner is your charge, 
 to be produced when summoned ; and now away with the mid 
 night assassin he has polluted our presence too long. Away 
 with the base ingrate, who has thus requited our trust and 
 love ; we would look on him no more." 
 
102 
 
 With a rapid movement the unfortunate young man broke 
 from the guard, which, at Don Felix s sign, closed round and 
 sought to drag him from the hall, and flung himself impetu 
 ously at Ferdinand s feet. 
 
 " I am no murderer !" he exclaimed, in a tone of such pas 
 sionate agony, that to any less prejudiced than those around, 
 it must at least have raised doubt as to his guilt. " I am not the 
 base ingrate you would deem me. Condemn me to death an 
 thou wilt, I kneel not to sue for life ; for, dishonored and sus 
 pected, I would not accept it were it offered. Let them bring 
 forward what they will, I am innocent. Here, before ye all, 
 in presence of the murdered victim, by all held sacred in 
 Heaven or on Earth, I swear I slew him not ! If I am 
 guilty I call upon the dead himself to rise, and blast me with 
 his gaze !" 
 
 Involuntarily every eye turned towards the corpse ; for, 
 vague as such an appeal might seem now, the age was then 
 but barely past, when the assistance of the murdered was 
 often required in the discovery of the murderer. Many a 
 brave heart grew chill, and brown cheeks blanched, in antici 
 pation of the unearthly sign, so fully were they convinced of 
 Stanley s guilt, but none came. The stagnated blood did not 
 flow forth again the eye did not glare with more conscious 
 ness than before the cold hand did not move to point its 
 finger at the prisoner ; and Don Felix, fearing the effect of 
 Stanley s appeal upon the King, signed to the guards, who 
 rudely raised and bore him from the hall. 
 
 The tumults of these events had naturally spread far and 
 wide over the castle, reaching the apartments of the Queen 
 who, perceiving the awe and terror which the raging tempest 
 had excited in her attendants, though incapable of aught like 
 fear herself, had refrained from dismissing them as usual. 
 The confusion below seeming to increase with every moment, 
 naturally excited her surprise ; and she commanded one of 
 her attendants to learn its cause. Already terrified, none 
 seemed inclined to obey, till a young girl, high spirited, and 
 dauntless almost as Isabella herself, departed of her own free 
 will, and in a few minutes returned, pale and trembling, 
 with the dread intelligence, that Don Ferdinand Morales lay 
 murdered in the hall, and that Arthur Stanley was his 
 murderer. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 103 
 
 Isabella paused not a moment, though the shock was so 
 terrible that for the minute she became faint and siok, and 
 hastily quitting her apartments, she entered the great hall at 
 the moment the prisoner was being borne from it. Stupefied 
 with contending feelings. Ferdinand did not perceive her en 
 trance. The nobles, drawn together in little knots, were 
 conversing in low eager tones, or endeavoring to reduce the 
 tumultuary soldiery to more order; and the Queen moved on 
 unperceived, till she stood beside the corpse. She neither 
 shrunk from it, nor paled ; but bending over him, murmured 
 in a tone, that from its startling indication of her unexpected 
 presence, reached the ear of all " His poor, poor Marie !" 
 
 The effect was electric. Until that moment horror and 
 indignation had been the predominant feeling; but with 
 chose words came the thought of his young, his beautiful, his 
 treasured wife the utter, utter desolation which that fearful 
 death would bring to her ; the contrast between her present 
 position, and that in which they had so lately beheld her ; 
 and there was scarcely a manly spirit there, that did not feel 
 unwonted moisture gather in his eyes, or his heart swell with 
 an emotion never felt before. 
 
 <: Now blessings on thy true woman s heart, my Isabel !" 
 exclaimed the King, tenderly drawing her from the couch of 
 the dead. " I dare vouch not one of us, mourning the noble 
 dead, has, till now, cast a thought upon the living. And who 
 shall breathe these fearful tidings ? "Who prepare the un 
 fortunate Marie for the loss awaiting her, and yet tarry to 
 behold and soothe her anguish ?" 
 
 " That will I do," replied the Queen, instantly. " None 
 else will prepare her so gently, so kindly ; for none knew her 
 husband s worth so well, or can mourn his loss more deeply. 
 She shall come hither. And the murderer," she continued 
 after a brief pause, and the change was almost startling from 
 the tender sympathy of the Woman to the indignant majesty 
 of the Queen " Ferdinand, have they told me true as to his 
 person is he secured ?" 
 
 " Ay," answered the King, briefly and bitterly : and from 
 respect to his feelings, Isabella asked no more. Orders were 
 issued for the body to be laid in one of the state apartments ; 
 a guard to be stationed at the entrance of the chamber, and 
 measures taken to keep the events of that fatal night pro- 
 
104 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 foundly secret, lest confusion should be aroused in the easily 
 excited populace, or her terrible loss too rudely reach the 
 ears of the most painfully bereaved. These orders wore 
 punctually obeyed. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Yet again methinks 
 
 Some unknown sorrow, ripe in Future s womb, 
 Is coming towards me ; and my inward soul 
 With nothing trembles. At something it grieves 
 More than the parting with my lord." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 LONG did Marie Morales linger where her husband had leCi 
 her after his strangely passionate farewell. His tone, his 
 look, his embrace haunted her almost to pain all were so 
 unlike his wonted calmness : her full heart so yearned to 
 wards him that she would have given worlds, if she had had 
 them, to call him to her side once more to conjure him again 
 to forgive and assure her of his continued trust to tell him 
 she was happy, and asked no other love than his. Why had 
 he left her so early ? when she felt as if she had so much to 
 say so much to confide. And then her eye caught the 
 same ominous cloud which had so strangely riveted Don Fer 
 dinand s gaze, and a sensation of awe stole over her, retain 
 ing her by the casement as by some spell which she vainly 
 strove to resist ; until the forked lightnings began to illu 
 mine the murky gloom, and the thunder rolled awfully along. 
 Determined not to give way to the heavy depression creeping 
 over her, Marie summoned her attendants, and strenuously 
 sought to keep up an animated conversation as they worked. 
 Not expecting to see her husband till the ensuing morning, 
 she retired to rest at the first partial lull of the storm, and 
 slept calmly for many hours. A morning of transcendent 
 loveliness followed the awful horrors of the night. The sun 
 seemed higher in the heavens than usual, when Marie started 
 from a profound sleep, with a vague sensation that something 
 
OH, THE MARTYR. 105 
 
 terrible had occurred ; every pulse was throbbing, though 
 her heart felt stagnant within her. For some minutes she 
 could not frame a distinct thought, and then her husband s 
 fond farewell flashed back ; but what had that to do with 
 gloom? Ringing a little silver bell beside her, Manuella 
 answered the summons, and Marie anxiously inquired for 
 Don Ferdinand. Had he not yet returned? A sensation 
 of sickness the deadly sickness of indefinable dread seem 
 ed to stupefy every faculty, as Manuella answered in the 
 negative, adding, it was much beyond his usual hour. 
 
 " Send to the castle, and inquire if aught has detained 
 him," she exclaimed ; hastily rising as she spoke, and com 
 mencing a rapid toilet. She was scarcely attired before Al- 
 beric, with a pale cheek and voice of alarm, brought informa 
 tion that a messenger and litter from the palace were in the 
 court, bringing the Queen s mandate for the instant attend 
 ance of Donna Marie. 
 
 " Oh ! lady, dearest lady, let me go with thee," continued 
 the boy, suddenly clasping her robe and bursting into tears. 
 " My master my good, noble master something horrible 
 has occurred, and they will not tell me what. Every face I 
 see is full of horror every voice seems suppressed every " 
 
 " Hush !" angrily interposed Manuella, as she beheld 
 Marie s very lips lose their glowing tint, and her eyes gaze 
 on vacancy. " For God s sake, still thine impudent tongue ; 
 thou lt kill her with thy rashness." 
 
 "Kill! who is killed?" gasped Marie. "What did he 
 say ? Where is my husband ?" 
 
 " Detained at the palace, dearest lady," readily answered 
 Manuella. " This foolish boy is terrified at shadows. My 
 lord is detained, and her Grace has sent a litter requiring 
 thine attendance. We must haste, for she wills no delay. 
 Carlotta, my lady s mantilla ; quick, girl ! Alberic, go if 
 thou wilt : my Lord may oe glad of thee ! Ay, go," she con 
 tinued some little time afterwards, as her rapid movements 
 speedily placed her passive, almost senseless mistress, in the 
 litter ; and she caught hold of the page s hand with a sud 
 den change of tone, " go ; and return speedily, in mercy, Al 
 beric. Some horror is impending ; better know it than this 
 terrible suspense." 
 
 How long an interval elapsed ere she stood in Isabella s 
 5* 
 
106 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 presence, Marie knew not. The most incongruous thoughts 
 floated, one after another, through her bewildered brain 
 most vivid amongst them all, hers and her husband s fatal 
 secret : had it transpired ? Was he sentenced, and she thus 
 summoned to share his fate? And then, % when partially 
 relieved by the thought, that such a discovery had never 
 taken place in Spanish annals why should she dread an 
 impossibility ? flashed back, clear, ringing, as if that mo 
 ment spoken, Stanley s fatal threat ; and the cold shudder 
 ing of every limb betrayed the aggravated agony of the 
 thought. With her husband she could speak of Arthur 
 calmly ; to herself she would not even think, his name : not 
 merely lest he should unwittingly deceive again, but that the 
 recollection of his suffering and caused by her ever cre 
 ated anew, thoughts and feelings which she had vowed unto 
 herself to bury, and for ever. 
 
 Gloom was on every face she encountered in the castle. 
 The very soldiers, as they saluted her as the wife of their 
 general, appeared to gaze upon her with rude, yet earnest 
 commiseration ; but neither word nor rumor reached her ear. 
 Several times she essayed to ask of her husband, but the 
 words died in a soundless quiver on her lip. Yet if it were 
 what she dreaded, that Stanley had fulfilled his threat, and 
 they had fought, and one had fallen why was she thus sum 
 moned ? And had not Morales resolved to avoid him ; for her 
 sake not to avenge Arthur s insulting words 1 And again 
 the thought of their fatal secret obtained ascendency. Five 
 minutes more, and she stood alone in the presence of her 
 
 Sovereign. 
 
 *##**## 
 
 It was told ; and with such deep sympathy, so gently, so 
 cautiously, that all of rude and stunning shock was averted ; 
 but, alas ! who could breathe of consolation at such a moment? 
 Isabella did not attempt it ; but permitted the burst of agony 
 full vent. She had so completely merged all of dignity, all 
 of the Sovereign into the woman and the friend, that Marie 
 neither felt nor exercised restraint ; and words mingled with 
 her broken sobs and wild lament, utterly incomprehensible 
 to the noble heart that heard. The awful nature of Don 
 Ferdinand s death, Isabella had still in some measure con 
 cealed ; but it seemed as if Marie had strangely connected 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 107 
 
 it with violence and blood, and, in fearful and disjointed 
 words, accused herself as its miserable cause. 
 
 " Why did not death come to me ?" she reiterated ; " why 
 take him, my husband my noble husband ? Oh, Ferdinand, 
 Ferdinand ! to go now, when I have so learnt to love thee ! 
 now. when I looked to years of faithful devotion to prove how 
 wholly the past was banished how wholly I was thine alone ! 
 to atone for hours of suffering by years of love ! Oh, how 
 couldst thou leave me friendless desolate ?" 
 
 " Not friendless, not desolate, whilst Isabella lives," re 
 plied the Queen, painfully affected, and drawing Marie closer 
 to her, till her throbbing brow rested on her bosom. " Weep, 
 my poor girl, tears must flow for a loss like this ; and long, 
 long weeks must pass ere we may hope for resignation ; but 
 harrow not thyself by thoughts of more fearful ill than the 
 reality, my child. Do not look on what might be, but what 
 has been ; on the comfort, the treasure, thou wert to the be 
 loved one we have lost. How devotedly he loved thee, and 
 thou" 
 
 "And I so treasured, so loved. Oh, gracious Sovereign !" 
 And Marie sunk down at her feet, clasping her robe in sup 
 plication. " Say but I may see him in life once more ; that 
 life still lingers, if it be but to tell me once more he forgives 
 me. Oh. let me but hear his voice; but once, only once, and 
 I will be calm quite calm ; I will try to bear this bitter 
 agony. Only let me see him, hear him speak again. Thou 
 knowest not, thou canst not know, how my heart yearns for 
 this." 
 
 " See him thou shalt, my poor girl, if it will give thee 
 aught of comfort ; but hear him, alas ! alas ! my child, would 
 that it might be ! Would for Spain and her Sovereign s 
 sake, then how much more for thine, that voice could be re 
 called ; and life, if but for the briefest space, return ! Alas ! 
 the blow was but too well aimed." 
 
 The blow ! what blow ? How did he die ? Who slew 
 him ?" gasped Marie ; her look of wild and tearless agony 
 terrifying Isabella, whose last words had escaped uninten 
 tionally. " Speak, speak, in mercy; let me know the truth?" 
 
 " Hast thou not thyself alluded to violence, and wrath, 
 and hatred, Marie ? Answer me, my child ; didst tbou know 
 any one, regarding the generous Morales with such feelings ? 
 Oould there be one to regard him &s his foe ?" 
 
108 THE VALE OF CEDARS) 
 
 Crouching lower and lower at Isabella s feet, her face half 
 buried in her robe, Marie s reply was scarcely audible ; but 
 the Queen s brow contracted. 
 
 "None?" she repeated almost sternly; "wouldst thou 
 deceive at such a moment ? contradict thyself ? And yet I 
 am wrong to be thus harsh. Poor sufferer !" she added, 
 tenderly, as she vainly tried to raise Marie from the ground ; 
 "thou hast all enough to bear; and if, indeed, the base 
 wretch who has dared thus to trample on the laws alike of 
 God and man, and stain his own soul with the foul blot of 
 midnight assassination, be him whom we have secured, thou 
 couldst not know him as thy husband s foe. It is all mystery 
 thine own words not least ; but his murder shall be avenged. 
 Ay, had my own kinsman s been the hand to do the dastard 
 deed." 
 
 "Murder! who was his murderer?" repeated Marie, the 
 horror of such a fate apparently lost in other and more 
 terrible emotion ; " who could have raised his sword against 
 my husband ? Said I he had no foe 1 Had he not one, and 
 I, oh, God ! did not I create that enmity ? But he would 
 not have murdered him ; oh, no no : my liege, my gracious 
 liege, tell me in mercy my brain feels reeling who was the 
 murderer ?" 
 
 " One thou hast known but little space, poor sufferer," 
 replied the Queen, soothingly; "one whom of all others we 
 could not suspect of such a deed. And even now, though 
 appearances are strong against him, we can scarce believe it ; 
 that young foreign favorite of my royal husband, Arthur 
 Stanley." 
 
 " STANLEY !" repeated Marie, in a tone so shrill, so pierc 
 ing, that the wild shriek which it formed rung for many and 
 many a day in the ears of the Queen. And as the word pass 
 ed her lips she started to her feet, stood for a second erect, 
 gazing madly on her royal mistress, and then, without ons 
 groan or struggle, dropped perfectly lifeless at her feet. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 List ! hear ye, through the still and lonely night, 
 
 The distant hymn of mournful voices roll 
 Solemn and low 1 It is the burial rite ; 
 
 How deep its sadness sinks into the soul, 
 As slow the passing bell wakes its far ling rir g knoll. 
 
 CHARLES SWAIN. 
 
 SPAIN has often been regarded as an absolute monarchy ; an 
 opinion, no doubt, founded on the absolute measures of her 
 later sovereigns. Ferdinand and Isabella certainly laid the 
 foundation of the royal prerogative by the firmness and abi 
 lity with which, they decreased the power of the nobles, who, 
 until their reign, had been like so many petty sovereigns, 
 each with his independent state, and preserving his authority 
 by the sword alone. When Ferdinand and Isabella, however, 
 united their separate kingdoms under one denomination, 
 neither Castile nor Arragon could be considered as an abso 
 lute monarchy. In Castile, the people, as representatives of 
 the cities, had, from early ages, obtained seats in the Cortes, 
 and so in some measure balanced the power of the aristocracy. 
 The Cortes, similar to our houses of parliament, could enact 
 laws, impose taxes, and redress grievances, often making the 
 condition of granting pecuniary aid to the Sovereign, his 
 consent to the regulations they had laid down, and refus 
 ing the grant if he demurred. In addition to these pri 
 vileges of the Cortes of Castile, the Junta of Arragon could 
 coin money, declare war, and conclude peace ; and what was 
 still more remarkable, they could be neither prorogued nor 
 dissolved bf their Sovereign without their own consent. 
 Alluding to the Castilians, a few years after the period ot 
 our tale, Robertson says 
 
 "The principles of liberty seem to have been better understood by 
 the Castilians than by any other people in Europe. They had acquir 
 ed more liberal notions with respect to their own rights and privileges. 
 They had formed more bold and generous sentiments concerning gov 
 ernment, and discovered an extent of political knowledge to which 
 the English themselves did not attain till nearly a century afterwards."* 
 
110 THE VALE OF CEDARS) 
 
 When we compare this state of things with the misery 
 and anarchy pervading Castile before the accession of Isa 
 bella, we may have some idea of the influence of her vigorous 
 measures, and personal character, on the happiness and free 
 dom of her subjects. The laws indeed existed before, but 
 they wanted the wisdom and moderation of an enlightened 
 Sovereign, to give them force and power to act. 
 
 In the kingdom of Arragon, besides the Junta, or National 
 Assemblage, there was always a Justizia, or supreme judge, 
 whose power, in some respects, was even greater than the 
 King s ; his person was sacred ; he could remove any of the 
 royal ministers whom ho deemed unworthy of the trust, and 
 was himself responsible to none but the Cortes or Junta by 
 whom he had been elected. The personal as well as the 
 national rights of the Arragonese, were also more accurately 
 defined than was usual in that age : no native of Arragon 
 could be convicted, imprisoned, or tortured, without fair and 
 legal evidence.* 
 
 Such being the customs of the kingdom of Arragon, the 
 power of the crown was more limited than Ferdinand s capa 
 cious mind and desire of dominion chose to endure : the 
 Cortes, or nobles, there were pre-eminent ; the people, as the 
 Sovereign, ciphers, save that the rights of the former were 
 more cared for than the authority of the latter. But Ferdi 
 nand was not merely ambitious ; he had ability and energy, 
 and so gradually were his plans achieved that he encoun 
 tered neither rebellion nor dislike. The Cortes found that 
 he frequently and boldly transacted business of importance 
 without their interference ; intrusted offices of state to men 
 of inferior rank, but whose abilities were the proof of his dis 
 cernment ; took upon himself the office of Justizia, and, in 
 conjunction with Isabella, re-established an institution which 
 had fallen into disuse through the civil wars, but which was 
 admirably suited for the internal security of their kingdom 1 
 by the protection of the peasantry and lower classes : it was 
 an association of all the cities of Castile and Arragon, known 
 as the Sainta Hermandad, or Holy Brotherhood, to maintain 
 a strong body of troops for the protection of travellers, and 
 the seizure of criminals, who were brought before judges 
 
 * See History of Spain, by John Bigland, 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. Ill 
 
 nominated by the confederated cities, and condemned ac 
 cording to their crime, without any regard to feudal laws. 
 Against this institution the nobles of both kingdoms were 
 most violently opposed, regarding it as the complete destroyer, 
 which in reality it was, of all their feudal privileges, and 
 taking from them the long possessed right of trying their 
 own fiefs, and the mischievous facility of concealing their own 
 criminals. 
 
 Thus much of history a digression absolutely necessary 
 for the clear elucidation of Ferdinand and Isabella s conduct 
 with regard to the events just narrated. The trial of Arthur 
 Stanley they had resolved should be conducted with au the 
 formula of justice, the more especially that the fact of his 
 being a foreigner had prejudiced many minds against him. 
 Ferdinand himself intended to preside at the trial, with a 
 select number of peers, to assist in the examination, and pro 
 nounce sentence, or confirm the royal mandate, as he should 
 think fit. Nor was this an extraordinary resolution. Nei 
 ther the victim, nor the supposed criminal, was of a rank 
 which allowed a jury of an inferior grade. Morales had been 
 fief to Isabella alone ; and on Ferdinand, as Isabella s repre 
 sentative, fell the duty of his avenger. Arthur Stanley own 
 ed no feudal lord in Spain, save, as a matter of courtesy, the 
 King, whose arms he bore. He was accountable, then, ac 
 cording to the feudal system, which was not yet entirely 
 extinct, to Ferdinand alone for his actions, and before him 
 must plead his innocence, or receive sentence for his crime. 
 As his feudal lord, or suzerain, Ferdinand might at once have 
 condemned him to death ; but this summary proceeding was 
 effectually prevented by the laws of Arragon and the office 
 of the Holy Brotherhood ; and therefore, in compliance with 
 their mandates, royal orders were issued that every evidence 
 for or against the prisoner should be carefully collected pre 
 paratory to the trial. More effectually to do this, the trial 
 was postponed from seven to fourteen days after the discov 
 ery of the murder. 
 
 The excitement which this foul assassination excited in 
 Segovia was so extreme, that the nobles were compelled to 
 solicit Isabella s personal interference, in quieting the popu 
 lace, and permitting the even course of justice : they had 
 thronged in tumultuary masses round the prison where Stan- 
 
112 
 
 ley was confined, with wild shouts and imprecations, demand 
 ing his instant surrender to their rage, mingling groans and 
 lamentations with yells and curses, in the most fearful med 
 ley. Old Pedro, who had been Arthur s host, inwittingly 
 added fuel to the flame, by exulting in his prophecy that evil 
 would come of Ferdinand s partiality for the white-faced for 
 eigner ; that he had seen it long, but guessed not how terri 
 bly his mutterings would end. By the Queen s permission, 
 the chamber of state in which the body lay was thrown open 
 to the eager citizens, who thronged in such crowds to behold 
 the sole remains of one they had well nigh idolized, that the 
 guards were compelled to permit the entrance of only a cer 
 tain number every day. Here was neither state nor pomp 
 to arrest the attention of the sight-loving populace : nought 
 of royalty or gorgeous symbols. No ; men came to pay the 
 last tribute of admiring love and sorrow to one who had ever, 
 noble as he was by birth, made himself one with them, cheer 
 ing their sorrows, sharing their joys ; treating age, however 
 poor or lowly, with the reverence springing from the heart, 
 inspiring youth to deeds of worth and honor, and by his own 
 example, far more eloquently than by his words, teaching all 
 and every age the duties demanded by their country and 
 their homes, to their families and themselves. And this man 
 was snatched from them, not alone by the ruthless hand of 
 death, but by midnight murder. Was it marvel, the very 
 grief his loss occasioned should rouse to wildest fury men s 
 passions against his murderer? 
 
 It was the evening of the fifth day after the murder, that 
 with a degree of splendor and of universal mourning, unri 
 vailed before in the interment of any subject, the body of 
 Ferdinand Morales was committed to the tomb. The King 
 himself, divested of all insignia of royalty, bareheaded, and 
 in a long mourning cloak, headed the train of chief mourners, 
 which, though they counted no immediate kindred, numbered 
 twenty or thirty of the highest nobles, both of Arragon and 
 Castile. The gentlemen, squires, and pages of Morales own 
 household followed : and then came on horse and on foot, 
 with arms reversed, and lowered heads, the gallant troops 
 who had so often followed Morales to victory, and under him 
 had so ably aided in placing Isabella on her throne ; an im 
 mense body of citizens, all in mourning, closed the proces- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 113 
 
 sion. Every shop had been closed, every flag half-masted, 
 and every balcony, by which the body passed, hung with 
 black. The cathedral church was thronged, and holy and 
 thrilling the service which consigned dust to dust, and hid 
 for ever from the eyes of his fellow men, the last decaying 
 remains of one so universally beloved. The coffin of ebony 
 and silver, partly open, so as to disclose the face of the corpse, 
 as was customary with Catholic burials of those of high or 
 priestly rank, and the lower part covered with a superb vel 
 vet pall, rested before the high altar during the chanted 
 service ; at the conclusion of which the coffin was closed, tho 
 lid screwed down, and lowered with slow solemnity into the 
 vault beneath. A requiem, chanted by above a hundred of 
 the sweetest and richest voices, sounding in thrilling unison 
 with the deep bass and swelling notes of the organ, had con 
 cluded the solemn rites, and the procession departed as it 
 came j but for some days the gloom in the city continued ; 
 the realization of the public loss seemed only beginning to 
 be fully felt, as excitement subsided. 
 
 Masses for the soul of the Catholic warrior, were of 
 course sung for many succeeding days. It was at midnight, 
 a very short time after this public interment, that a strange 
 group were assembled within the cathedral vaults, at the very 
 hour that mass for the departed was being chanted in the 
 church above their heads ; it consisted of monks and travel 
 ling friars, accompanied by five or six of the highest nobility ; 
 their persons concealed in coarse mantles and shrouding 
 hoods ; they had borne with them, through the subterranean 
 passages of the crypt, leading to the vaults, a coffin so exact 
 ly similar in workmanship and inscription to that which con 
 tained the remains of their late companion, that to distin 
 guish the one from the other was impossible. The real one, 
 moved with awe and solemnity, was conveyed to a secret 
 recess close to the entrance of the crypt, and replaced in the 
 vault by the one they had brought with them. As silently, 
 as voicelessly as they had entered and done their work, so 
 they departed. The following night, at the same hour, tho 
 coffin of Morales, over which had been nailed a thick black 
 pall, so that neither name, inscription, nor ornament could bo 
 perceived, was conveyed from Segovia in a covered cart, be 
 longing, it appeared, to the monastery of St. Francis, situated 
 
114 THE VALE OF CEDARS j 
 
 some leagues southward, and attended by one or two monks 
 and friars of the same order. The party proceeded leisure 
 ly, travelling more by night than by day, diminishing gradu 
 ally in number till, at the entrance of a broad and desolate 
 plain, only four remained with the cart. Over this plain 
 they hastened, then wound through a circuitous path con 
 cealed in prickly brushwood, and paused before a huge, mis 
 shapen crag, seemingly half buried in the earth : in this a 
 door, formed of one solid stone, flew back at their touch ; the 
 coffin, taken with reverence from the cart, was borne on their 
 shoulders through the dark and narrow passage, and down 
 the winding stair, till they stood in safety in the vale ; in the 
 secret entrance by which they entered, the lock closed as 
 they passed, and was apparently lost in the solid wall. Three 
 or four awaited them nobles, who had craved leave of ab 
 sence for a brief interval from the court, and who had come 
 by different paths to the secret retreat (no doubt already 
 recognized by our readers as the Vale of Cedars), to lay 
 Morales with his fathers, with the simple form, yet solemn 
 service peculiar to the burials of their darkly hidden race. 
 The grave was already dug beside that of Manuel Henriquez; 
 the coffin, resting during the continuance of a brief prayer 
 and psalm in the little temple, was then borne to the ground 
 marked out, which, concealed by a thick hedge of cypress 
 and cedar, lay some little distance from the temple ; for, in 
 their secret race, it was not permitted for the house destined 
 to the worship of the Most High, to be surrounded by the 
 homes of the dead. A slow and solemn hymn accompanied 
 the lowering of the coffin ; a prayer in the same unknown 
 language ; a brief address, and the grave was filled up ; the 
 noble dead left with his kindred, kindred alike in blood as 
 faith ; and ere the morning rose, the living had all departed, 
 save the few retainers of the house of Henriquez and Mo 
 rales, to whose faithful charge the retreat had been intrusted. 
 No proud effigy marked those simple graves ; the monuments 
 of the dead were in the hearts of the living. But in the ca 
 thedral of Segovia a lordly monument arose to the memory 
 of Ferdinand Morales, erected, not indeed for idle pomp, but 
 as a tribute from the gratitude of a Sovereign and a na 
 tion s love. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 115 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 ANGELO. We must not make a scarecrow of the law, 
 Setting it up to fear the birds of prey ; 
 And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
 Their perch, and not their terror. 
 
 ESCALUS. Ay, but yet 
 
 Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, 
 Than fall and bruise to death. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 ON the evening preceding the day appointed for the trial, 
 Isabella, unattended and unannounced, sought her husband s 
 private closet ; she found him poring so intently over maps 
 and plans, which strewed the tables before him, that she spoke 
 before he perceived her. 
 
 " Just come when most wished for, dear wife, and royal 
 liege," was his courteous address, as he rose and gracefully 
 led her to a seat beside his own. " See how my plans for the 
 reduction of these heathen Moors are quietly working ; they 
 are divided within themselves, quarrelling more and more 
 fiercely. ^ Pedro Pas brings me information that the road to 
 Alhama is well nigh defenceless, and therefore the war should 
 commence in that quarter. But how is this, love?" he 
 added, after speaking of his intended measures at some 
 length, and perceiving that they failed to elicit Isabella s in 
 terest as usual. " Thy thoughts are not with me this eve 
 ning." 
 
 " With thee, my husband, but not with the Moors," re 
 plied the Queen, faintly smiling. " I confess to a pre-occu- 
 pied mind ; but just now my heart is so filled with sorrowing 
 sympathy, that I can think but of individuals, not of nations. 
 In the last council, in which the question of this Moorish war 
 was agitated, our faithful Morales was the most eloquent. 
 His impassioned oratory so haunted me, as your Grace spoke, 
 that I can scarcely now believe it hushed for ever, save for 
 the too painful witness of its truth." 
 
 " His lovely wife thou meanest, Isabel ? Poor girl ! How 
 fares she ?" 
 
 " As she has been since that long faint, which even I be- 
 
116 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 lievod was death ; pale, tearless, silent. Even the seeing 
 of her husband s body, which I permitted, hoping the sight 
 would break that marble calm, has had no effect, save to in 
 crease, if possible, the rigidity of suffering. It is for her 
 my present errand." 
 
 " For her !" replied the King, surprised. " What can I 
 do for her, apart from thee ?" 
 
 " I will answer the question by another, Ferdinand. Is 
 it true that she must appear as evidence against the murderer 
 in to-morrow s trial 1 ?" 
 
 " Isabella, this must be," answered the King, earnestly. 
 " There seems to me no alternative ; and yet surely this can 
 not be so repugnant to her feelings. Would it not be more 
 injustice, both to her, and to the dead, to withhold any evi 
 dence likely to assist in the discovery of the murderer ?" 
 
 " But why lay so much stress on her appearance ? Is 
 there not sufficient evidence without her ?" 
 
 " Not to satisfy me as to Stanley s guilt," replied the 
 King. " I have heard indeed from Don Luis Garcia quite 
 enough, if it be true evidence, to condemn hhn. But I like 
 not this Garcia ; it is useless now to examine wherefore. I 
 doubt him so much, that I would not, if possible, lay any 
 stress upon his words. He has declared on oath that he saw 
 Stanley draw his sword upon Morales, proclaim aloud his un 
 dying hatred, and swear that he would take his life or lose 
 his own ; but that, if I were not satisfied with this assur 
 ance, Donna Marie herself had been present, had seen and 
 heard all, and could no doubt give a very efficient reason, in 
 her own beautiful person, for Stanley s hatred to her husband, 
 as such matters were but too common in Spain. I checked 
 him with a stern rebuke ; for if ever there were a double- 
 meaning hypocrite, this Don Luis is one. Besides, I cannot 
 penetrate how he came to be present at this stormy inter 
 view. He has evaded, he thinks successfully, my questions 
 on this head; but if, as I believe, it was dishonorably obtained, 
 I am the less inclined to trust either him or his intelligence. 
 If Marie were indeed present, which he insists she was, her 
 testimony is the most important of any. If she confirm Don 
 Luis s statement, give the same account of the interview be 
 tween her husband and Stanley, and a reason for this sud 
 denly proclaimed enmity ; if she swear that he did utter 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 117 
 
 such threatening words, I will neither hope nor try to save 
 him ; he is guilty, and must die. But if she deny that he 
 thus spoke ; if she declares on oath that she knew of no 
 cause for, nor of the existence of any enmity, I care not for 
 other proofs, glaring though they be. Accident or some 
 atrocious design against him, as an envied foreigner, may 
 have thrown them together. Let Marie swear that this Gar 
 cia has spoken falsely, and Stanley shall live, were my whole 
 kingdom to implore his death. In Donna Marie s evidence 
 there can be no deceit ; she can have no wish that Stanley 
 should be saved ; as her husband s supposed murderer, he 
 must be an object of horror and loathing, Still silent Isa 
 bel? Is not her evidence required?" 
 
 J It is indeed. And yet I feel that, to demand it, will 
 but increase the trial already hers." 
 
 "As how?" inquired the King, somewhat astonished. 
 u Surely thou canst not mean " 
 
 J I mean nothing ; I know nothing," interrupted Isabella 
 hastily. " I can give your Grace no reason, save my own 
 feelings. Is there no way to prevent this public exposure, 
 and yet serve the purpose equally?" 
 
 Ferdinand mused. " I can think of none," he said. " Does 
 Marie know of this summons ? and has her anguish sent 
 thee hither ? Or is it merely the pleadings of thine own 
 heart, my Isabel ?" 
 
 " She does not know it. The summons appeared to me 
 so strange and needless, I would not let her be informed till 
 I had sought thee." 
 
 But thou seest it is not needless !" answered the King 
 anxiously, for in the most trifling matter he ever sought her 
 acquiescence. 
 
 ^ Needless it is not, my liege. The life of the young 
 foreigner, who has thrown himself so confidingly on our pro 
 tection and friendship, must not be sacrificed without most 
 convincing proofs of his guilt. Marie s evidence is indeed 
 important; but would not your Grace s purpose be equally 
 attained, if that evidence be given to me, her native Sove 
 reign, in private, without the dread .formula which, if sum 
 moned before a court of justice, may have fatal effects on a 
 mind and frame already so severely tried ? In my presence 
 alone the necessary evidence may be given with equal solem 
 nity, and with less pain to the poor sufferer herself." 
 
118 1HE VALE OF CEDARS j 
 
 King Ferdinand again paused in thought. "But her 
 words must be on oath, Isabel. Who will administer that 
 oath ?" 
 
 " Father Francis, if required. But it will surely be 
 enough if she swear the truth to me. She cannot deceive 
 me, even if she were so inclined. I can mark a quivering 
 lip or changing color, which others might pass unnoticed." 
 
 " But how will this secret examination satisfy the friends 
 of the murdered?" again urged the cautious King. "How 
 will they be satisfied, if I acquit Stanley from Donna Ma 
 rie s evidence, and that evidence be kept from them ?" 
 
 ; Is not the word of their Sovereign enough ? If Isa 
 bella say so it is, what noble of Castile would disgrace him 
 self or her by a doubt as to its truth?" replied the Queen 
 proudly. " Let me cleariy understand all your Grace re 
 quires, and leave the rest to me. If Marie corroborates 
 Garcia s words, why. on his evidence sentence may be pro 
 nounced without her appearance in it at all ; but if she deny 
 in the smallest tittle his report, in my presence they shall 
 confront each other, and fear not the truth shall be elicited, 
 and, if possible, Stanley saved. I may be deceived, and 
 Marie not refuse to appear as witness against him ; if so, 
 there needs not my interference. I would but spare her in 
 crease of pain, and bid her desolate heart cling to me as her 
 mother and her friend. When my subjects look upon me 
 thus, my husband, then, and then only is Isabella what she 
 would be." 
 
 " And do they not already thus regard thoe, my own Isa 
 bel?" replied the King, gazing with actual reverence upon 
 her ; " and as such, will future ages reverence thy name. 
 Be it as thou wilt. Let Marie s own feelings decide the 
 question. She must take part in this trial, either in public 
 or private ; she must speak on oath, for life and death hang 
 on her words, and her decision must be speedy. It is sun 
 set now, and ere to-morrow s noon she must have spoken, or 
 be prepared to appear." 
 
 Ere Queen Isabella reached her own apartments her plan 
 was formed. Don Luis s tale had confirmed her suspicions 
 as to the double cause of Marie s wretchedness ; she had 
 herself administered to her while in that dead faint herself 
 bent over her, lest the first words of returning consciousness 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 119 
 
 should betray aught which the sufferer might wish concealed ; 
 but her care had been needless: no word passed those 
 parched and ashy lips. The frame, indeed, for some days 
 was powerless, and she acceded eagerly to Isabella s earnest 
 proffer (for it was not command) to send for her attendants, 
 and occupy a suite of rooms in the castle, close to her royal 
 mistress, in preference to returning to her own home ; from 
 which, in its desolate grandeur, she shrunk almost in loath 
 ing. 
 
 For seven days after her loss she had not quitted her 
 apartment, seen only by the Queen and her own woman ; 
 but after that interval, at Isabella s gently expressed wish, 
 she joined her, in her private hours, amongst her most fa 
 vored attendants ; called upon indeed for nothing save her 
 presence ! And little did her pre-occupied mind imagine 
 how tenderly she was watched, and with what kindly sympa 
 thy her unexpressed thoughts were read. 
 
 On the evening in question, Isabella was seated, as was 
 her frequent custom, in a spacious chamber, surrounded by 
 her female attendants, with whom she was familiarly con 
 versing, making them friends as well as subjects, yet so uni. 
 ting dignity with kindness, that her favor was far more val 
 ued and eagerly sought than had there been no superiority ; 
 yet, still it was more for her perfect womanhood than her 
 rank that she was so reverenced, so loved. At the farther 
 end of the spacious chamber were several young girls, 
 daughters of the nobles of Castile and Arragon, whom Isa 
 bella s maternal care for her subjects had collected around 
 her, that their education might be carried on under her own 
 eye, and so create for the future nobles of her country, wives 
 and mothers after her own exalted stamp. They were al 
 ways encouraged to converse freely and gayly amongst each 
 other; for thus she learned their several characters, and 
 guide<J them accordingly. There was neither restraint nor 
 heaviness in her presence ; for by a word, a smile, she could 
 prove her interest in their simple pleasures, her sympathy 
 in their eager youth. 
 
 Apart from all, but nearest Isabella, silent and pale, 
 shrouded in the sable robes of widowhood that painful garb 
 which, in its voiceless eloquence of desolation, ever calls for 
 tears, more especially when it shrouds the young j her beau- 
 
120 
 
 tiful hair, save two thick braids, concealed under the linen 
 coif sat Marie, lovely indeed still, but looking like one 
 
 " Whose heart was born to break 
 A face on which to gaze, made every feeling ache." 
 
 An embroidery frame was before her, but the flowers grew 
 but slowly beneath her hand. About an hour after Isabella 
 had joined her attendants, a light signal was heard at the 
 tapestried door of the apartment. The Queen was then sit 
 ting in a posture of deep meditation ; but she looked up, as 
 a young girl answered the summons, and then turned to 
 wards her Sovereign. 
 
 " Well, Catherine ?" 
 
 " Royal madam, a page, from his Grace the King, craves 
 speech of Donna Marie." 
 
 " Admit him then." 
 
 The boy entered, and with a low reverence advanced 
 towards Marie. She looked up in his face bewildered a 
 bewilderment which Isabella perceived changed to a strong 
 expression of mental torture, ere he ceased to speak. 
 
 " Ferdinand, King of Arragon and Castile/ he said, 
 " sends, with all courtesy, his royal greeting to Donna Marie 
 Henriquez Morales, and forthwith commands her attendance 
 at the solemn trial which is held to-morrow s noon ; by her 
 evidence to confirm or refute the charge brought against the 
 person of Arthur Stanley, as being and having been the ac 
 knowledged enemy of the deceased Don Ferdinand Morales 
 (God assoilize his soul !) and as having uttered words of 
 murderous import in her hearing. Resolved, to the utmost 
 of his power, to do justice to the living as to avenge the 
 dead, his royal highness is compelled thus to demand the 
 testimony of Donna Marie, as she alone can confirm or refute 
 this heavy and most solemn charge." 
 
 There was no answer ; but it seemed as if the messenger 
 required none imagining the royal command all sufficient 
 for obedience for he bowed respectfully as he concluded, 
 and withdrew. Marie gazed after him, and her lip quivered 
 as if she would have spoken would have recalled him ; but 
 no word came, and she drooped her head on her hands, 
 pressing her slender fingers strongly on her brow, as thus to 
 bring back connected thought once more. What had he 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 121 
 
 said? She must appear against Stanley she must speak his 
 doom ? Why did those fatal words which must condemn 
 him, ring in her ears, as only that moment spoken ? Her 
 embroidery fell from her lap, and there was no movement to 
 replace it. How long she thus sat she knew not ; but, 
 roused by the Queen s voice uttering her name, she started, 
 and looked round her. She was alone with Isabella ; who 
 was gazing on her with such unfeigned commiseration, that, 
 unable to resist the impulse, she darted forwards, and sink 
 ing at her feet, implored 
 
 " Oh, madam gracious madam ! in mercy spare nie 
 fchis !" 
 
 The Queen drew her tenderly to her, and said, with evi 
 dent emotion 
 
 " What am I to spare thee, my poor child ? Surely thou 
 wouldst not withhold aught that can convict thy husband s 
 murderer ? Thou wouldst not in mistaken mercy elude for 
 him the justice of the law ?" 
 
 " No no," murmured Marie ; let the murderer die ; but 
 not Stanley ! Oh, no no ; he would not lift his hand 
 against my husband. Who says he slew him ? Why do 
 they attach so foul a crime to his unshadowed name ? Let 
 the murderer die ; but it is not Arthur : I know it is not. 
 Oh, do not slay him too !" 
 
 Marie knew not the wild entreaty breathing in her 
 words : but the almost severely penetrating gaze which Isa 
 bella had fixed upon her, recalled her to herself; a crimson 
 flush mounted to cheek and brow, and, burying her face in 
 the Queen s robe, she continued less wildly 
 
 " Oh, madam, bear with me ; I know not what I say. 
 Think I am mad ; but oh, in mercy, ask me no question. Am 
 I not mad, to ask thee to spare spare him they call my 
 husband s murderer ? Let him die," and the wild tone re 
 turned, "if he indeed could strike the blow ; but oh, let not 
 my lips pronounce Jus death-doom ! Gracious Sovereign, do 
 not look upon me thus I cannot bear that gaze." 
 
 " Fear me not, poor sufferer," replied Isabella, mildly ; 
 |; I will ask no question demand nought that will give thee 
 pain to answer save that which justice compels me to re 
 quire. That there is a double cause for all this wretchedness. 
 f cannot but perceive, and that I suspect its cause I may not 
 6 
 
122 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 deny ; but guilty I will not believe thee, till thine own 
 words or deeds proclaim it. Look up then, my poor child, 
 unshrinkingly ; I am no dread Sovereign to thee, painful as 
 is the trial to which I fear I must subject thee. There are 
 charges brought against young Stanley so startling in their 
 nature, that, much as we distrust his accuser, justice forbids 
 our passing them unnoticed. On thy true testimony his 
 Grace the King relies to confirm or refute them. Thy evi 
 dence must convict or save him." 
 
 " My evidence !" repeated Marie. "What can they ask 
 of me of such weight ? Save him ." she added, a sudden 
 gleam of hope irradiating her pallid face, like a sunbeam 
 upon snow? " Did your Grace say / could save him ? Oh, 
 speak, in mercy !" 
 
 " Calm this emotion then, Marie, and thou shalt know all. 
 It was for this I called thee hither. Sit thee on the settle 
 at my feet, and listen to me patiently, if thou canst. Tis a 
 harsh word to use to grief such as thine, my child," she 
 added, caressingly, as she laid her hand on Marie s drooping 
 head ; " and I fear will only nerve thee for a still harsher 
 trial. Believe me, I would have spared thee if I could ; but 
 all I can do is to bid thee choose the lesser of the two evils. 
 Mark me well : for the Sovereign of the murdered, the judge 
 of the murderer, alike speak through me." And clearly and 
 forcibly she narrated all, with which our readers are already 
 acquainted, through her interview with the King. She 
 spoke very slowly, as if to give Marie time to weigh well each 
 sentence. She could not see her countenance ; nay, she pur 
 posely refrained from looking at her, lest she should increase 
 the suffering she was so unwillingly inflicting. For some 
 minutes she paused as she concluded ; then, as neither word 
 nor sound escaped from Marie, she said, with emphatic earn 
 estness " If it will be a lesser trial to give thine evidence on 
 oath to thy Queen alone, we are here to receive it. Our 
 royal husband our loyal subjects will be satisfied with 
 Isabella s report. Thy words will be as sacred thy oath as 
 valid as if thy testimony were received in public, thy oath 
 administered by one of the holy fathers, with all the dread 
 formula of the church. We have repeated all to which thy 
 answers will be demanded ; it remains for thee to decide 
 whether thou wilt speak before his Grace the King and his 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 123 
 
 assembled junta, or here and now before thy native Sove 
 reign. Pause ere thou dost answer there is time enough." 
 
 For a brief interval there was silence. The kind heart of 
 the Queen throbbed painfully, so completely had her sympa 
 thy identified her with the beautiful being, who had so irre 
 sistibly claimed her cherishing love. But ere she had had 
 time to satisfy herself as to the issue of the struggle so 
 silently, yet so fearfully at work in her companion, Marie 
 had arisen, and with dignity and fearlessness, strangely at 
 variance with the wild agony of her words and manner before, 
 stood erect before her Sovereign j and when she spoke, her 
 voice was calm and firm. 
 
 " Queen of Spain !" she said. " My kind, gracious Sov 
 ereign ! Would that words could speak one-half the love, 
 the devotion, all thy goodness has inspired ; but they seem 
 frozen, all frozen now, and it may be that I may never even 
 prove them that it will be my desolate fate, to seem less and 
 less worthy of an affection I value more than life. Royal 
 madam ! I will appear at to-morrow s trial ! Your Grace is 
 startled ; deeming it a resolve as strange as contradictory. 
 Ask not the wherefore, gracious Sovereign: it is fixed unal 
 terably. I will obey his Grace s summons. Its unexpected 
 suddenness startled me at first ; but it is over. Oh, madam," 
 she continued tone, look, and manner becoming again those 
 of the agitated suppliant, and she sunk once more at Isabella s 
 feet : " In my wild agony I have forgotten the respect and 
 deference due from a subject to her Sovereign ; I have 
 poured forth my misery, seemingly as regardless of kindness, 
 as insensible to the wide distance between us. Oh, forgive 
 me, my gracious Sovereign ; and in token of thy pardon, 
 grant me but one boon !" 
 
 " Nought have I to forgive, my suffering child," replied 
 tli Queen, powerfully affected, and passing her arm ca 
 ressingly round her kneeling favorite ; " what is rank 
 sovereignty itself in hours of sorrow ? If I were so tena 
 cious of dignity as thou fearest, I should have shrunk from 
 that awful presence affliction from a Father s hand in 
 which his children are all equals, Marie. And as for thj 
 boon: be it what it may, I grant it." 
 
 "Thou sayest so now, my liege; but when the hour t( 
 grant it comes, every feeling will revolt against it ; even thine., 
 
124 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 my Sovereign, kind, generous, as thou art. Oh, Madam, thou 
 wilt hear a strange tale to-morrow one so fraught with mys 
 tery and marvel, thou wilt refuse to believe; but when the 
 trial of to-morrow is past, then think on what I say now: 
 what thou nearest will be TRUE true as there is a heaven 
 above us ; I swear it ! Do not look upon me thus, my Sover 
 eign ; I am not mad oh, would that I were ! Dark, meaning 
 less as my words seem now, to-morrow they will be distinct 
 and clear enough. And then then, if thou hast ever loved 
 me, oh, grant the boon I implore thee now: whatever thou 
 mayest hear, do not condemn me do not cast me wholly from 
 thee. More than ever shall I need thy protecting care. Oh, 
 my Sovereign thou who hast taught me so to love thee, in 
 pity love me still !" 
 
 " Strange wayward being," said Isabella, gazing doubting- 
 ly on the imploring face upturned to hers ; u towards other 
 than thyself such mystery would banish love for ever ; but I 
 will not doubt thee. Darkly as thou speakest, still I grant 
 the boon. What can I hear of thee, to cast thee from me?" 
 ; Thou wilt hear of deceit, my liege," replied Marie, very 
 slowly, arid her eyes fell beneath the Queen s gaze ; " thou wilt 
 hear of long years of deceit and fraud, and many many 
 tongues will speak their scorn and condemnation. Then wilt 
 thou grant it then?" 
 
 " Even then," replied Isabella fearlessly ; " an thou speak 
 est truth at last, deceit itself I will forgive. But thou art 
 overwrought and anxious, and so layest more stress on some 
 trivial fault than even I would demand. Go to thy own cham 
 ber now, and in prayer and meditation gain strength for to-mor 
 row s trial. Whatever I may hear, so it be not meditated and 
 unrepented guilt, (which I know it cannot be,) I will forgive, 
 and love thee still. The holy saints bless and keep thee, my 
 fair child !" 
 
 And as Marie bent to salute the kind hand extended to 
 her, Isabella drew her towards her, and fondly kissed her 
 cheek. The unexpected caress, or some other secret feeling, 
 subdued the overwrought energy at once ; and for the first time 
 since her husband s death, Marie burst into natural tears. 
 But her purpose changed not ; though Isabella s gentle and 
 affectionate soothing rendered it tenfold more painful to 
 accomplish. 
 
OR TWF. MARTYR. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LEONTES. These sessions, to our great grief, we pronounce 
 Even pushes gainst our heart. 
 
 Let us be cleared 
 
 Of being tyrannous, since we openly 
 Proceed in justice which shall have due course, 
 Even to the guilt, or the purgation. 
 Produce the prisoner ! SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE day of trial dawned, bright, sunny, cloudless, as was 
 usual in beautiful Spain a joyous elasticity was in the at 
 mosphere, a brilliance in the heavens, which thence reflected 
 on the earth, so painfully contrasted with misery and death, 
 that the bright sky seemed to strike a double chill on the 
 hearts of those most deeply interested. 
 
 Never had the solemn proceedings of justice created so 
 great an excitement ; not only in Segovia itself, but the towns 
 and villages, many miles round, sent eager citizens and rustic 
 countrymen to learn the issue, and report it speedily to those 
 compelled to stay at home. The universal mourning for 
 Morales was one cause of the popular excitement ; and the 
 supposition of the young foreigner being his murderer ano 
 ther. 
 
 The hall of the castle was crowded at a very early hour, 
 Isabella having signified not only permission, but her wish 
 that as many of her citizen subjects as space would admit 
 should be present, to witness the faithful course of justice. 
 Nearest to the seat destined for the King, at the upper end 
 of the hall, were ranged several fathers from an adjoining 
 convent of Franciscans, by whom a special service had been 
 impressively performed that morning in the cathedral, in 
 which all who had been summoned to preside at the trial had 
 solemnly joined. 
 
 The Monks of St. Francis were celebrated alike for their 
 sterling piety, great learning, and general benevolence. Their 
 fault, if such it could be termed in a holy Catholic commu 
 nity, was their rigid exclusiveness regarding religion ; their 
 uncompromising and strict love for, and adherence to, their 
 own creed ; and stern abhorrence towards, and violent perse 
 
126 HIE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 cution of. all who in the slightest degree departed from it, or 
 failed to pay it the respect and obedience which they believed 
 it demanded. At their head was their Sub-Prior, a character 
 whose influence on the after position of Spain was so great, 
 that we may not pass it by, without more notice than our tale 
 itself perhaps would demand. To the world, as to his brethren 
 and superiors, in the monastery, a stern unbending spirit, a 
 rigid austerity, and unchanging severity of mental and phy 
 sical discipline, characterized his whole bearing and daily 
 conduct. Yet, his severity proceeded not from the supersti 
 tion and bigotry of a weak mind or misanthropic feeling. 
 Though his whole time and thoughts appeared devoted to the 
 interest of his monastery, and thence to relieving and guiding 
 the poor, and curbing and decreasing the intemperate follies 
 and licentious conduct of the laymen, in its immediate neigh 
 borhood; yet his extraordinary knowledge, not merely of 
 human nature, but of the world at large his profound and 
 extensive genius, which, in after years was displayed, in the 
 prosecution of such vast schemes for Spain s advancement, 
 that they riveted the attention of all Europe upon him 
 naturally won him the respect and consideration of Ferdi 
 nand and Isabella, whose acute penetration easily traced the 
 natural man, even through the thick veil of monkish austerity. 
 They cherished and honored him, little thinking that, had it 
 not been for him, Spain would have sunk at their death, into 
 the same abyss of anarchy and misery, from which their 
 vigorous measures had so lately roused, and, as they hoped, 
 so effectually guarded her. 
 
 When Torquemada, Isabella s confessor, was absent from 
 court, which not unfrequently happened, for his capacious 
 mind was never at peace unless actively employed Father 
 Francis, though but the Sub-Prior of a Franciscan monas 
 tery, always took his place, and frequently were both sover 
 eigns guided by his privately asked and frankly given opin 
 ions, not only on secular affairs, but on matters of state, and 
 even of war. With such a character for his Sub-Prior, the 
 lordly Abbot of the Franciscans was indeed but a nominal 
 dignitary, quite contented to enjoy all the indulgences and 
 corporeal luxuries, permitted, or perhaps winked at, from his 
 superior rank, and leaving to Father Francis every active 
 duty ; gladly, therefore, he deputed on him the office of head 
 ing the Monks that day summoned to attend King Ferdinand. 
 
OR THfK MARTYR. 27 
 
 Not any sign of the benevolence and goodness in reality 
 the characteristics of this extraordinary man was visible on 
 his countenance as he sat. The very boldest and haughtiest 
 of -Ae aristocracy, involuntarily perhaps, yet irresistibly, ac 
 knowledged his superiority. Reverence and awe were the 
 emotions first excited towards his person : but already was 
 that reverence largely mingled with the love which some 
 three years afterwards gave him such powerful influence 
 over the whole sovereignty of Spain. Next to the holy 
 fathers, and ranged according to rank and seniority, were 
 the nobles who had been selected to attend, the greater 
 number of whom were Oastilians, as countrymen cf the 
 deceased. Next to them were the Santa Hermandad, or 
 Brethren of the Associated Cities, without whose presence 
 and aid, no forms of justice, even though ruled and guided 
 by royalty itself, were considered valid or complete. A 
 semicircle was thus formed, the centre of which was the 
 King s seat ; and opposite to him, in the hollow, as it were 
 of the crescent, a space left for the prisoner, accusers, and 
 witnesses. Soldiers lined the hall; a treble guard being 
 drawn up at the base of the semicircle, and extending in a 
 wide line right and left, behind the spot destined for the 
 prisoner. There was still a large space left, and this was so 
 thronged with citizens, that it presented the appearance of a 
 dense mass of human heads, every face turned in one direc 
 tion, and expressive in various ways of but one excitement, 
 one emotion. 
 
 There was not a smile on either of the stern countenances 
 within the hall. As the shock and horror of Don Ferdinand s 
 fate in some measure subsided, not only the nobles, but the 
 soldiers themselves, began to recall the supposed murderer 
 in the many fields of honorable warfare, the many positions 
 of mighty and chivalric bearing in which they had hitherto 
 seen the young Englishman play so distinguished a part ; 
 and doubts began to arise as to the possibility of so great a 
 change, and in so short a time. To meet even a supposed 
 enemy in fair field, and with an equality of weapons, was the 
 custom of the day; such, therefore, between Stanley and 
 Morales, might have excited marvel as to the cause, but not 
 as to the act. But murder ! it was so wholly incompatible 
 with even the very lowest principles of chivalry (except when 
 
128 THE VALE OF CEDARS j 
 
 the unfortunate victim was of too low a rank to be removed 
 by any other means), that when they recalled the gallantry, 
 the frankness of speech and deed, the careless buoyancy, the 
 quickly subdued passion, and easily accorded forgiveness of 
 injury, which had ever before characterized young Stanley, 
 they could not believe his guilt : but then came the recollec 
 tion of the startling proofs against him, and such belief was 
 almost involuntarily suspended. There was not a movement 
 in that immense concourse of human beings, not a word 
 spoken one to the other, not a murmur even of impatience 
 for the appearance of the King. All was so still, so mute, 
 that, had it not been for the varied play of countenances, 
 any stranger suddenly placed within the circle might have 
 imagined himself in an assemblage of statues. 
 
 Precisely at noon, the folding-doors at the upper end of 
 the hall were thrown widely but noiselessly back, and King 
 Ferdinand, attended by a few pages and gentlemen, slowly 
 entered, and taking his seat, gazed a full minute, inquiringly 
 and penetratingly around him, and then resting his head on 
 his hand, remained plunged in earnest meditation some 
 moments before he spoke. 
 
 It was a strange sight the noiseless, yet universal rising 
 of the assemblage in honor to their Sovereign, changing their 
 position as by one simultaneous movement. Many an eye 
 turned towards him to read on his countenance the prisoner s 
 doom ; but its calm, almost stern expression, baffled the most 
 penetrating gaze. Some minutes passed ere Ferdinand, rous 
 ing himself from his abstraction, waved his hand, and every 
 seat was instantaneously resumed, and so profound was the 
 silence, that every syllable the Monarch spoke, though his 
 voice was not raised one note above his usual pitch, was 
 heard by every member of those immense crowds, as indivi 
 dually addressing each. 
 
 " My Lords and holy Fathers, and ye Associated Breth 
 ren," he said, " the cause of your present assemblage needs 
 no repetition. Had the murdered and the supposed murderer 
 been other than they are, we should have left the course of 
 justice in the hands of those appointed to administer it, and 
 interfered not ourselves save to confirm or annul the sentence 
 they should pronounce. As the case stands, we are deputed 
 by our illustrious Consort and sister Sovereign, Isabella of 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 129 
 
 Castile, to represent her as Suzerain of the deceased (whom 
 the saints assoilize), and so ourselves guide the proceedings 
 of justice on his murderer. Our prerogative as Suzerain 
 and Liege would permit us to condemn to death at once ; 
 but in this instance, my Lords and holy Fathers, we confess 
 ourselves unwilling and incapable of pronouncing judgment 
 solely on our own responsibility. The accused is a friendless 
 foreigner, to whom we have been enabled to show some kind 
 ness, and therefore one towards whom we cannot feel indiffer 
 ence : he has, moreover, done us such good service both in 
 Spain and Sicily, that even the grave charge brought against 
 him now, cannot blot out the memories of the past. We find 
 it difficult to believe that a young, high-spirited, honorable 
 warrior, in whose heart every chivalric feeling appeared to 
 beat, could become, under any temptation, under any impulse, 
 that base and loathsome coward a midnight murderer ! On 
 your counsels, then, we implicitly depend : examine, impar 
 tially and deliberately, the proofs for and against, which will 
 be laid before you. But let one truth be ever present, lest 
 justice herself be but a cover for prejudice and hate. Let 
 not Europe have cause to say, that he who, flying from the 
 enemies and tyrants of his own land, took refuge on the 
 hearths of our people, secure there of kindness and protec 
 tion, has found them not. Were it a countryman we were 
 about to judge, this charge were needless; justice and mercy 
 would, if it were possible, go hand in hand. The foreigner, 
 who has voluntarily assumed the name and service of a son 
 of Spain, demands yet more at our hands. My Lords and 
 holy Fathers, and ye Associated Brethren, remember this 
 important truth, and act accordingly : but if, on a strict, un 
 prejudiced examination of the evidence against the prisoner, 
 ye pronounce him guilty, be it so : the scripture saith, 
 1 blood must flow for blood ! " 
 
 A universal murmur of assent filled the hall as the 
 King ceased : his words had thrilled reprovingly on many 
 there present, particularly amongst the populace, who felt, 
 even as the Monarch spoke, the real cause of their violent 
 wrath against the murderer. Ere, however, they had time 
 to analyze why the violent abhorrence of Stanley should be 
 so calmed merely at the King s words, the command, "Bring 
 forth the prisoner !" occasioned an intensity of interest and 
 
130 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 eager movement of the numerous heads towards the base of 
 the hall, banishing every calmer thought. The treble line of 
 soldiers, forming the base of the crescent, divided in the 
 centre, and wheeling backwards, formed two files of dense 
 thickness, leaving a lane between them through which the 
 prisoner and his guards were discerned advancing to the 
 place assigned. He was still heavily fettered, and his dress, 
 which he had not been permitted to change, covered with 
 dark, lurid stains, hung so loosely upon him, that his attenu 
 ated form bore witness, even as the white cheek and haggard 
 eye, to the intense mental torture of the last fortnight. 
 His fair hair lay damp and matted on his pale forehead ; 
 but still there was that in his whole bearing which, while it 
 breathed of suffering, contradicted every thought of guilt. 
 He looked round him steadily and calmly, lowered his head 
 a moment in respectful deference to the King, and instantly 
 resumed the lofty carriage which suffering itself seemed in 
 adequate to bend. King Ferdinand fixed his eyes upon him 
 with an expression before which the hardiest guilt must for 
 the moment have quailed ; but not a muscle of the prisoner s 
 countenance moved, and Ferdinand proceeded to address him 
 gravely, yet feelingly. 
 
 "Arthur Stanley," he said, "we have heard from Don 
 Felix d Estaban that you have refused our proffered privilege 
 of seeking and employing some friends, subtle in judgment, 
 and learned in all the technicalities of such proceedings, as 
 to-day will witness, to undertake your cause. Why is this ? 
 Is your honor of such small amount, that you refuse even to 
 accept the privilege of defence ? Are you so well prepared 
 yourself to refute the evidence which has been collected 
 against you, that you need no more? Or have we indeed 
 heard aright, that you have resolved to let the course of 
 justice proceed, without one effort on your part to avert an 
 inevitable doom ? This would seem a tacit avowal of guilt ; 
 else, wherefore call your doom inevitable ? If conscious of 
 innocence, have you no hope, no belief in the Divine Justice, 
 which can as easily make manifest innocence as punish crime? 
 Ere we depute to others the solemn task of examination, and 
 pronouncing sentence, we bid you speak, and answer as to the 
 wherefore of this rash and contradictory determination per 
 sisting in words that you are guiltless, yet refusing the pri- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 131 
 
 vilege of defence. Is life so valueless, that you cast it de 
 graded from you ? As Sovereign and Judge, we command 
 you answer, lest by your own rash act the course of justice 
 be impeded, and the sentence of the guilty awarded to the 
 innocent. As man to man, I charge thee speak ; bring for 
 ward some proof of innocence. Let me not condemn to 
 death as a coward and a murderer, one whom I have loved 
 and trusted as a friend ! Answer wherefore this strange 
 callousness to life this utter disregard of thine honor and 
 thy name ?" 
 
 For a moment, while the King addressed him as man to 
 man. the pallid cheek and brow of the prisoner flushed with 
 painful emotion, and there was a scarcely audible tremulous- 
 ness in his vcice as he replied : 
 
 " And how will defence avail me ? How may mere asser 
 tion deny proof, and so preserve life and redeem honor? My 
 liege, I had resolved to attempt no defence, because I would 
 not unnecessarily prolong the torture of degradation. Had 
 I one proof, the slightest proof to produce, which might in 
 the faintest degree avail me, I would not withhold it ; justice 
 to my father s name would be of itself sufficient to command 
 defence. But I have none ! I cannot so perjure myself as 
 to deny one word of the charges brought against me, save 
 that of murder ! Of thoughts of hate and wrath, ay, and 
 blood, but such blood as honorable men would shed, I am 
 
 fuilty, I now feel, unredeemably guilty, but not of murder ! 
 am not silent because conscious of enacted guilt. I will 
 not go down to the dishonored grave, now yawning for me, 
 permitting, by silence, your Highness, and these your sub 
 jects, to believe me the monster of ingratitude, the treacher 
 ous coward which appearances pronounce me. No !" he con 
 tinued, raising his right hand as high as his fetters would 
 permit, and speaking in a tone which fell with the eloquence 
 of truth on every heart " No : here, as on the scaffold 
 now, as with my dying breath, I will proclaim aloud my in 
 nocence ; I call on the Almighty Judge himself, as on every 
 Saint in heaven, to attest it ay, and I believe it WILL be 
 attested, when nought but my memory is left to be cleared 
 from shame I am not the murderer of Don Ferdinand 
 Morales ! Had he been in every deed my foe had he given 
 me cause for the indulgence of those ungovernable passions 
 
132 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 which I now feel were roused against him so causelessly and 
 sinfully, I might have sought their gratification by honorable 
 combat, but not by midnight murder ! I speak not, I repeat, 
 to save my life : it is justly forfeited for thoughts of crime ! 
 I speak that, when in after years my innocence will be made 
 evident by the discovery of the real assassin, you will all 
 remember what I now say that I have not so basely requit 
 ed the King and Country who so generously and trustingly 
 befriended me that I am no murderer !" 
 
 " Then, if so convinced of innocence, young man, where 
 fore not attempt defence ?" demanded the Sub-Prior of St. 
 Francis. " Knowest thou not that wilfully to throw away 
 the life intrusted to you, for some wise purpose, is amenable 
 before the throne of the Most High as self-committed 
 murder? Proofs of this strongly asserted innocence, thou 
 must have." 
 
 " I have none," calmly answered the prisoner, " I have 
 but words, and who will believe them ? Who, here present, 
 will credit the strange tale, that, tortured and restless from 
 mental suffering, I courted the fury of the elements, and rush 
 ed from my quarters on the night of the murder ivithout my 
 sword ? that, in securing the belt, I missed the weapon, but 
 still sought nob for it as I ought? who will believe that it 
 was accident, not design, which took me to the Calle Soledad? 
 and that it was a fall over the murdered body of Don Ferdi 
 nand which deluged my hands and dress with the blood that 
 dyed the ground ? Who will credit that it was seeing him 
 thus which chained me, paralyzed, horror-stricken, to the 
 spot ? In the wild fury of my passions I had believed him 
 my enemy, and sworn his death ; then was it marvel that 
 thus beholding him turned me well-nigh to stone, and that, 
 in my horror, I had no power to call for aid, or raise the 
 shout after the murderer, for my own thoughts arose as 
 fiends, to whisper, such might have been my work that I 
 had wished his death? Great God! the awful wakening 
 from the delusion of weeks the dread recognition in that 
 murdered corse of my own thoughts of sin !" He paused 
 involuntarily, for his strong agitation completely choked his 
 voice, and shook his whole frame. After a brief silence, 
 which none in the hall had heart to break, he continued 
 calmly, " Let the trial proceed, gracious Sovereign. Yow 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 133 
 
 Highness s generous interest in one accused of a crime so 
 awful, comprising the death, not of a subject only, but of a 
 friend, does but add to the heavy weight of obligation already 
 mine, and would of itself excite the wish to live, to prove 
 that I am not so utterly tmworthy ; but I feel that not to 
 such as I, may the Divine mercy be so shown, as to bring 
 forward the real murderer. The misery of the last fortnight 
 has shown me how deeply I have sinned in thought, though 
 not in deed ; and how dare I, then, indulge the wild dream 
 that my innocence will be proved, until too late, save for 
 mine honor ? My liege, I have trespassed too long on the 
 time of this assemblage ; let the trial proceed." 
 
 So powerful was the effect of his tone and words, that the 
 impulse was strong in every heart to strike off his fetters, 
 and give him life and freedom. The countenance of the 
 Sub-Prior of St. Francis alone retained its unmoved calm 
 ness, and its tone, its imperturbable gravity, as he command 
 ed Don Felix d Estaban to produce the witnesses ; and on 
 their appearance, desired one of the fathers to administer 
 the oath. 
 
 CHAPTER, XIX. 
 
 " His unaltering cheek 
 Still vividly doth hold its natural hue, 
 And his eye quails not. Is this innocence V 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 DURING the examination of Don Alonzo of Aguilar, and of 
 old Pedro and Juana, the prisoner remained with his arms 
 calmly folded and head erect, without the smallest variation 
 of feature or position denoting either anxiety or agitation. 
 Don Alonzo s statement was very simple. He described the 
 exact spot where he had found the body, and the position in 
 which it lay ; the intense agitation of Stanley, the bloody 
 appearance of his clothes, hands, and face, urging them to 
 secure his person even before they discovered the broken 
 fragment of his sword lying beside the corse. His account 
 
134 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 was corroborated, in the very minutest points, by the men 
 who had accompanied him, even though cross-questioned with 
 unusual particularity by Father Francis. Old Pedro s state 
 ment, though less circumstantial, was, to the soldiers and 
 citizens especially, quite as convincing. He gave a wordy 
 narrative of Senor Stanley s unnatural state of excitement 
 from the very evening he had become his lodger that ho 
 had frequently heard him muttering to. himself such words as 
 "blood" and "vengeance." He constantly appeared long 
 ing for something ; never eat half the meals provided for 
 him a sure proof, in old Pedro s imagination, of a disorder 
 ed mind, and that the night of the murder he had heard him 
 leave the house, with every symptom of agitation. Old 
 Juana, with very evident reluctance, confirmed this account ; 
 but Father Francis was evidently not satisfied. " Amongst 
 these incoherent ravings of the prisoner, did you ever distin 
 guish the word l murder ? " he demanded a question which 
 would be strange, indeed, in the court of justice of the pre 
 sent day, but of importance in an age when such words as 
 blood and vengeance, amongst warriors, simply signified a 
 determination to fight out their quarrel in (so-called) honor 
 able combat. The answer, after some hesitation, was in the 
 negative. "Did you ever distinguish any name, as the object 
 of Senor Stanley s desired vengeance?" 
 
 Pedro immediately answered " No ;" but there was a 
 simper of hesitation in old Juana, that caused the Sub-Prior 
 to appeal to her. " Please your Reverence, I only chanced 
 to hear the poor young man say, Oh, Marie ! Marie ! one 
 day when I brought him his dinner, which he put away un 
 touched, though I put my best cooking in it." 
 
 A slight, scarcely perceptible flush passed over the pri 
 soner s cheek and brow. The King muttered an exclama 
 tion ; Father Francis s brow contracted, and several of the 
 nobles looked uneasily from one to the other. 
 
 " At what time did the prisoner leave his apartments the 
 night of the murder ?" continued the Sub-Prior. 
 
 " Exactly as the great bell of the cathedral chimed 
 eleven," was the ready reply from Pedro and Juana at the 
 same moment. 
 
 " Did you hear nothing but his hasty movements, as you 
 Describe? Did he not call for attendance, or a light? Re- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 135 
 
 member, you are on oath," he continued sternly, as he ob 
 served the hesitation with which old Pedro muttered " No ;" 
 and that Juana was silent. " The church punishes false 
 swearers. Did he speak or not ?" 
 
 " He called for a light, please your Reverence, but 
 
 " But you did not choose to obey at an hour so late !" 
 sternly responded Father Francis ; : and by such neglect 
 may be guilty of accelerating the death of the innocent, and 
 concealing the real murderer ! You allege that Senor Stan 
 ley returned from some military duty at sunset, and slept 
 from then till just before eleven, so soundly that you could 
 not rouse him even for his evening meal. This was strange 
 for a man with murder in his thoughts ! Again, that he 
 called for a light, which you neglected to bring ; and Senor 
 Stanley asserts that he missed his sword, but rushed from 
 the house without it. Your culpable neglect, then, prevents 
 our discovering the truth of this assertion ; yet you acknow 
 ledge he called loudly for light ; this appears too unlikely to 
 have been the case, had the prisoner quitted the house with 
 the intention to do murder." 
 
 " Intention at that moment he might not have had, 
 Reverend Father," interposed the head of the Associated 
 Brethren, who had taken an active part in the examination. 
 " Were there no evidence as to premeditated desire of ven 
 geance, premeditated insult, and long-entertained enmity, 
 these conclusions might have foundation. As the case stands, 
 thoy weigh but little. Where evil passions have been ex 
 cited, opportunity for their indulgence is not likely to pass 
 unused." 
 
 " But evidence of that long-entertained enmity and pre 
 meditated vengeance we have not yet examined," replied 
 the Sub-Prior. " If it only rest on the suppositions of this 
 old couple, in one of whom it is pretty evident, prejudice is 
 stronger than clearly defined truth, methinks that, despite 
 this circumstantial evidence, there is still hope of the prison 
 er s innocence, more especially as we have one other import 
 ant fact to bring forward. You are certain," he continued, 
 addressing old Pedro, " that the bell chimed eleven when 
 Senor Stanley quitted your dwelling ?" The man answered 
 firmly in the affirmative. " And you will swear that the 
 Senor 3lept from sunset till that hour ?" 
 
136 
 
 " I dare not swear to it, your Reverence, for Juana and I 
 were at a neighbor s for part of that time ; but on our re 
 turn, Juana took up his supper again, and found him so ex 
 actly in the same position as we had left him, that we could 
 not believe he had even moved." 
 
 " Was he alone in the house during this interval ?" 
 
 " No ; the maid Beta was at her work in the room below 
 Senor Stanley s." 
 
 " Let her be brought here." 
 
 The order was so rapidly obeyed, that it was very evi 
 dent she was close at hand ; but so terribly alarmed at the 
 presence in which she stood, as to compel the Sub-Prior to 
 adopt the gentlest possible tone, to get any answer at all. He 
 merely inquired if, during the absence of her master and mis 
 tress, she had heard any movement in the prisoner s room. 
 She said that she thought she had a quiet, stealthy step, and 
 also a sound as if a door in the back of the house closed ; 
 but the sounds were so very indistinct, she had felt them 
 at the time more like a dream than reality ; and the com 
 mencement of the storm had so terrified her, that she did 
 not dare move from her seat. 
 
 "And what hour was this?" 
 
 It might have been about nine ; but she could not say 
 exactly. And from the assertion that she did hear a slight 
 sound, though puzzlingly cross-questioned, she never waver 
 ed. The King and the Sub-Prior both looked disappointed. 
 The chief of the Santa Hermandad expressed himself con 
 firmed in his previous supposition. 
 
 The prisoner retained his calmness ; but a gleam of in 
 telligence seemed to flit across his features. 
 
 " You would speak, Senor Stanley," interposed the King, 
 as the girl was dismissed. " We would gladly hear you." 
 
 "I would simply say, your Highness," replied* Stanley, 
 gratefully, " that it is not unlikely Beta may have heard 
 such sounds. I am convinced my evening draught was 
 drugged ; and the same secret enemy who did this, to give 
 him opportunity undiscovered to purloin my sword may. 
 nay, must have entered my chamber during that deathlike 
 sleep, and committed the theft which was to burden an inno 
 cent man with his deed of guilt. The deep stillness in the 
 house might have permitted her ear to catch the step, though 
 
OR, THE MARTYR 137 
 
 my sleep was too profound. I could hardly have had time 
 to waken, rise, commit the deed of death, and return to such 
 a completely deceiving semblance of sleep, in the short hour 
 of Pedro and Juana s absence ; and if I had, what madness 
 would have led me there again, and so appalled me, as to 
 prevent all effort of escape ?" 
 
 " Conscience," replied the chief of the Santa Hermandad, 
 sternly. "The impelling of the Divine Spirit, whom you 
 had profaned, and who in justice so distracted you, as to lead 
 you blindly to your own destruction no marvel the dark 
 ness oppressed, and the storm appalled you ; or that heaven 
 in its wrath should ordain the events you yourself have 
 described the fall over your own victim, and the horror 
 thence proceeding. We have heard that your early years 
 have been honorable, Senor Stanley, and to such, guilt is 
 appalling even in its accomplishment. Methinks, Father 
 Francis, we need now but the evidence of the premedita 
 tion." 
 
 " Your pardon, brother ; but such conclusions are some 
 what over-hasty. It is scarcely probable, had Senor Stanley 
 returned after the committal of such a deed, that his re- 
 entrance should not have been heard as well as his de 
 parture ; whereas the witness expressly declares, that though 
 her attention was awakened by the previous faint sound, and 
 she listened frequently, she never heard another movement, 
 till her master and mistress s return ; and as they went into 
 the Senor s room directly, and found him without the very 
 least appearance of having moved, justice compels us to in 
 cline to the belief in Senor Stanley s suggestion that he 
 could scarcely have had sufficient time to rouse, depart, do 
 murder, and feign sleep during Pedro Benito s brief inter 
 val of absence." 
 
 " We will grant that so it may be, Reverend Father, but 
 what proof have we that the murder had not been just com 
 mitted when the body and the assassin were discovered ?" 
 
 Father Francis replied, by commanding the appearance 
 of Don Ferdinand s steward, and after the customary for 
 mula, inquired what hour his late lamented master had quit 
 ted his mansion the night of the murder. The man replied, 
 without hesitation, " Exactly as the chimes played the quar 
 ter before nine." 
 
138 
 
 " But was not that unusually early ? The hour of meet 
 ing at the castle was ten, and the distance from Don Ferdi 
 nand s mansion not twenty minutes ride, and scarce forty 
 minutes walk. Are you perfectly certain as to the hour ?" 
 
 " I can take my oath upon it, your Reverence, and Lopez 
 will say the same. Our sainted master (Jesu rest his soul!) 
 called to him a few minutes before he entered my lady s 
 room, and told him not to get his horse ready, as he should 
 walk to the castle. Lopez asked as to who should attend 
 him, and his reply was he would go alone. He had done so 
 before, and so we were not surprised ; but we were grieved 
 at his look, for it seemed of suffering, unlike himself, and 
 were noticing it to each other as he passed us, after quitting 
 my lady, and so quickly and so absorbed, that he did not 
 return our salutation, which he never in all his life neglected 
 to do before. My poor, poor master ! little did we think 
 we should never see him again !" And the man s uncon 
 strained burst of grief excited anew the indignation of the 
 spectators against the crime, till then almost forgotten, in 
 the intense interest as to the fate of the accused. Lopez 
 was called, and corroborated the steward s account exactly. 
 
 If he left his house at a quarter before nine, at what 
 hour, think you, he would reach the Calle Soledad?" 
 
 From ten to fifteen minutes past the hour, your Rever 
 ence, unless detained by calling elsewhere on his way." 
 
 " Did he mention any intention of so doing ?" The an 
 swer was in the negative. " According to this account, then, 
 the murder must have taken place between nine and ten ; 
 and Senor Stanley was not heard to quit his apartment till 
 eleven. This would corroborate his own assertion, that the 
 deed was committed ere he reached the spot." 
 
 " But what proof have we that Don Ferdinand was not 
 detained on his way ?" replied the chief of the Santa Her- 
 mandad. " His domestics assert no more than the hour of 
 his quitting the house." 
 
 " The hour of the royal meeting was ten," rejoined the 
 Sub-Prior; "he was noted for regularity, and was not likely 
 to have voluntarily lingered so long, as not even to reach the 
 Calle till one hour afterwards." 
 
 " Not voluntarily ; but we have heard that he appeared 
 more suffering than he was ever seen to do. His illness 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 1 39 
 
 might have increased, and so cause detention ; and yet, on 
 even partial recovery, we know him well enough to believe he 
 would still have endeavored to join his Highness." 
 
 " He would ; but there is evidence that, when brought to 
 the castle, he had been dead at the very least three hours. 
 Let Curador Benedicto come forward." 
 
 A repectable man, dressed in black, and recognized at 
 once as the leech or doctor of the royal household, obeyed 
 the summons, and on being questioned, stated that he had 
 examined the body the very moment it had been conveyed to 
 the castle, in the hope of discovering some signs of animation, 
 however faint. But life was totally extinct, and, according 
 to his judgment, had been so at the very least three hours." 
 
 " And what hour was this ?" 
 
 " Just half-an-hour after midnight." 
 
 A brief silence followed the leech s dismissal : Ferdinsfld 
 still seemed perplexed and uneasy, and not one countenance, 
 either of the nobles or Associated Brethren, evinced satis 
 faction. 
 
 " Our task, instead of decreasing in difficulty, becomes 
 more and more complicated, my lords and brethren," observ 
 ed the Sub-Prior, after waiting for the chief of the Santa 
 Hermandad to speak. : Had we any positive proof, that 
 Senor Stanley really slept from the hour of sunset till 
 eleven the same evening, and never quitted his quarters until 
 then, we might hope that the sentence of Curador Benedicto, 
 as to the length of time life had been extinct in his supposed 
 victim, might weigh strongly against the circumstantial chain 
 of evidence brought against him. Believing that the prisoner 
 having slept from the hour of sunset to eleven was a proven 
 and witnessed fact, I undertook the defensive and argued 
 in his favor. The sounds heard by the girl Beta may or may 
 not have proceeded from the stealthy movements of the ac 
 cused, and yet justice forbids our passing them by unnoticed. 
 The time of this movement being heard, and that of the 
 murder, according to the leech s evidence, tally so exactly 
 that we cannot doubt but the one had to do with the other ; 
 but whether it were indeed the prisoner s step, or that of the 
 base purloiner of his sword, your united judgment must de 
 cide. Individual supposition, in a matter of life or death, 
 can be of no avail. My belief, as you may have discovered, 
 
140 THE VALE OF CEDARS) 
 
 inclines to the prisoner s innocence. My brother, the chief 
 Hermano, as strongly believes in his guilt. And it would 
 appear as if the evidence itself, supports the one judgment 
 equally with the other ; contradictory and complicated, it has 
 yet been truthfully brought forward and strictly examined. 
 Your united judgment, Senors and Hermanos, must therefore 
 decide the prisoner s fate." 
 
 " But under your favor, Reverned Father, all the evidence 
 has not been brought forward," rejoined the chief Hemano. 
 1 And inethinks that which is still to come is the most im 
 portant of the whole. That the business is complicated, and 
 judgment most difficult, I acknowledge, and therefore 
 gladly avail myself of any remaining point on which the 
 scale may turn. Sworn as I am to administer impartial jus 
 tice, prejudice against the prisoner I can have none ; but the 
 point we have until now overlooked, appears sufficient to de 
 cide not only individual but general opinion. I mean the 
 premeditated vengeance sworn by the prisoner against the 
 deceased long indulged and proclaimed enmity, and pre 
 meditated determination to take his life or lose his own. Don 
 Ferdinand Morales be his soul assoilized ! was so univer 
 sally beloved, so truly the friend of all ranks and conditions 
 of men, that to believe in the existence of any other enmity 
 towards his person is almost impossible. We have evidence 
 that the prisoner was at feud with him was harboring some 
 design against him for weeks. It may be he \?as even refused 
 by Don Ferdinand the meeting he desired, and so sought 
 vengeance by the midnight dagger. Let the evidence of this 
 enmity be examined, and according or not as premeditated 
 malice is elicited, so let your judgment be pronounced." 
 
 " Ay, so let it be," muttered the King as a loud murmur 
 of assent ran through the hall. " "We have two witnesses for 
 this ; and, by heaven, if the one differ from the other in the 
 smallest point, the prisoner may still be reprieved !" 
 
 Whether the royal observation was heard or not, there 
 was no rejoinder, for at the summoning of the chief Hermano, 
 Don Luis Garcia stood before the assemblage. His appear 
 ance excited surprise in many present, and in none more 
 than the prisoner himself. He raised his head, which had 
 been resting on his hand during the address of the Sub-Prior, 
 and the reply of the Hermano, and looked at the new witness 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 141 
 
 with bewildered astonishment. As Don Luis continued his 
 relation of the stormy interview between the deceased and 
 the accused, and the words of threatening used by the latter, 
 astonishment itself, changed into an indignation and loathing 
 impossible to be restrained. 
 
 " Thou base dishonored villain !" he exclaimed, so sudden 
 ly and wrathfully that it startled more by its strange contrast 
 with his former calmness than by its irreverent interruption 
 to the formula of the examination ; " where wert thou during 
 this interview ? Hearing so well, and so invisibly concealed, 
 none but the voluntary spy could have heard all this ; so 
 skilfully detailed that thou wouldst seem in very truth witness 
 A s well as hearer. What accident could have led thee to the 
 most retired part of Don Ferdinand s garden, and, being 
 there, detained thee ? Thou treacherous villain ! and on 
 thy evidence evidence so honorably, so truthfully obtained, 
 my life or death depends ! Well, be it so." 
 
 " But so it shall not be," interposed the King himself, ere 
 either Sub-Prior or the Hermano could reply ; " even as the 
 prisoner, we ourselves hold evidence dishonestly obtained of 
 little moment naj^ of no weight whatever. Be pleased, 
 Don Luis Garcia, to explain the casualty which led you, at 
 such an important moment, to Don Ferdinand s grounds ; or 
 name some other witness. The voluntary listener is, in our 
 mind, dishonorable as the liar, and demanding no more 
 account." 
 
 With a mien and voice of the deepest humility, Don Luis 
 replied ; grieving that his earnest love of justice should ex 
 pose him to the royal displeasure ; submitting meekly to un 
 just suspicion as concerned himself, but still upholding the 
 truth and correctness of his statement. The other witness 
 to the same, he added mysteriously, he had already named to 
 his Royal Highness, 
 
 " And she waits our pleasure," replied the King ; " Don 
 Felix d Estaban, be pleased to conduct the last witness to our 
 presence." 
 
142 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 But love is strong. There came 
 Strength upon Woman s fragile heart and frame , 
 There came swift courage. 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 Death has no pang 
 More keen than this. Oh, wherefore art thou here 1 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 A PROFOUND silei.ce followed Don Felix s departure. Don 
 Luis had &o evidently evaded the King s demand, as to how 
 he had witnessed this important interview, that even those 
 most prejudiced in his favor, on account of his extreme 
 sanctity, found themselves doubting his honor ; and those 
 who had involuntarily been prejudiced against him, by the 
 indefinable something pervading his countenance and voice, 
 doubly rejoiced that their unspoken antipathy had some 
 foundation. In modern courts of justice, to refuse the 
 validity of evidence merely because the manner of obtaining 
 it was supposed dishonorable, would be pronounced the acme 
 of folly and romance. In the age of which we write, and in 
 Spain especially, the sense of honor was so exquisitely re 
 fined, that the King s rebuke, and determination not to 
 allow the validity of Don Luis s evidence, unless confirmed 
 by an honorable witness, excited no surprise whatever ; every 
 noble, nay, every one of the Associated Brethren, there pres 
 ent, would have said the same ; and the eager wonder, as to 
 the person of the witness on whom so much stress was laid, 
 became absolutely intense. The prisoner was very evidently 
 agitated ; his cheek flushed and paled in rapid alternation, 
 and a suppressed but painful exclamation escaped from him 
 as Don Felix re-entered, leading with him a female form ; 
 but the faint sound was unheard, save by the King and the 
 Sub-Prior, who had been conversing apart during d Estaban s 
 absence lost in the irrepressible burst of wonder and sym 
 pathy, which broke from all within the hall, as in the new 
 witness, despite the change of garb, and look, from the daz 
 zling beauty of health and peace, to the attenuated form of 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 143 
 
 anxiety and sorrow, they recognized at once the widow of 
 the murdered, Donna Marie. Nor was this universal sym 
 pathy lessened, when, on partially removing her veil, to 
 permit a clear view of the scene around her, her sweet face 
 was disclosed to all profoundly, almost unnaturally, calm, 
 indeed but the cheek and lips were perfectly colorless ; the 
 ashy whiteness of the former rendered them more striking 
 from the long black lash resting upon it, unwetted by a 
 single tear : and from the peculiarly dark eye appearing the 
 larger, from the attenuation of the other features. One steady 
 and inquiring glance she was seen to fix upon the prisoner, 
 and then she bent in homage to the Sovereign ; &,nd emotion, 
 if there were any, passed unseen. 
 
 " Sit, lady," said the King, with ready courtesy, touched 
 more than he could have imagined possible, by the change 
 fourteen short days had wrought. " We would feign render 
 this compelled summons as brief and little fatiguing as may 
 be ; none can grieve more than ourselves at this harsh in 
 trusion on thy hours of sorrow ; but in a great measure the 
 doom of life or death rests with thee, and justice forbids 
 our neglecting evidence so important. Yet sit, lady; we 
 command it." 
 
 " It needs not, gracious Sovereign ; my strength will not 
 fail me," replied Marie, her sweet voice falling distinctly on 
 every ear, while Stanley started at its calmness ; and she 
 gracefully refused the seat Don Felix proffered. " Give 
 no more thought to me than to any other witness ; it is not 
 a subject s place to sit in presence of her Sovereign." 
 
 But Ferdinand s kindliest feelings were excited, and in 
 stead of permitting the Sub-Prior to give the necessary de 
 tails, he himself, with characteristic brevity, but clearly and 
 kindly, narrated the progress of the evidence for and against 
 the prisoner, and how great the weight laid on the proofs, if 
 there were any, of acknowledged enmity, and premeditated 
 injury, on the part of the accused towards the deceased. 
 The questions to which he was compelled to request her re 
 ply were simply, " Was she aware of any cause of hatred 
 existing between the accused and the deceased ?" " Had she 
 ever heard opprobrious and insulting epithets used by the 
 former or the latter ?" " or any threat, implying that the 
 death of Don Ferdinand Morales was desired by the prison- 
 
144 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 er?" " Had she ever seen the prisoner draw his sword upon 
 the deceased? and had she any reason to believe that Don 
 Ferdinand had ever refused, or intended to refuse to meet 
 the prisoner in honorable combat, and so urged the gratifica 
 tion of vengeance by a deed of murder 1 Reverend Father," 
 continued the King, " be pleased yourself to administer the 
 customary oath." 
 
 Father Francis instantly rose from his seat, and taking 
 the large and richly embossed silver crucifix from the Monk, 
 who had administered the oath to all the other witnesses, 
 himself approached Marie. " Marie Henriquez Morales," he 
 said, as he reverentially held the solemn symbol of his re 
 ligion before her, " art thou well advised of the solemnity 
 of the words thou art called upon to speak ? If so, swear 
 to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
 truth. Swear by the Holy Symbol which I support ; by the 
 unpronounceable name of the Father, by the flesh and blood, 
 the resurrection and the life of our Lord and Saviour Christ 
 Jesu ; by the Holy Spirit ; by the saving and glorious 
 Trinity; by the goodly army of Saints and Martyrs; 
 daughter, swear, and the blessing or the curse be with you 
 as you swear true or falsely." 
 
 The fine countenance of the Sub-Prior glowed with the 
 holy enthusiasm of his appeal ; his form, as he stood, one 
 hand clasping the crucifix, the other emphatically raised, 
 seemed dilated to unusual height and majesty, and the deep 
 solemnity of his accents so enhanced the awful responsibility 
 of the oath, that it thrilled throughout the multitude as it 
 had never done before. So deep was the stillness which fol 
 lowed, that not one of those vast crowds seemed to breathe. 
 To the prisoner it was a moment of intense emotion : for if, 
 indeed, Marie had once told him truth, that oath, to her, 
 even in its solemnity, was as nought ; but ere he could even 
 think as to the wording of her answer, that answer came, and 
 so distinct, so unfalteringly spoken, that there was not one 
 person present who even strained his ear to catch the words. 
 
 " Reverend Father," she said, " I am grateful for thy 
 counsel ; and, believe me, am well advised of the truth and so 
 lemnity of the words I speak. But I cannot aid his Grace, 
 and these his subjects, in their decision as to the prisoner s 
 sentence. My evidence is valueless. I belong to that race 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 145 
 
 whose word is never taken as witness, for or against, in a court 
 of justice. I cannot take the oath required, for I deny the 
 faith in which it is administered. I am a JEWESS !" 
 
 A wild cry, in every variety of intonation astonishment, 
 horror, wrath, and perhaps terror, ran through the hall 
 from Sovereign, Noble, Monk, and Citizen, simultaneously. 
 Father Francis staggered back several paces, as if there were 
 contamination in remaining by her side, and then stood as 
 rooted to the ground, his hand convulsively grasping the 
 crucifix which had nearly fallen from his hold ; his lips apart, 
 his nostrils slightly distended, and his eyes almost starting 
 from their sockets, in the horrified and astonished gaze he 
 fixed upon the pale and -fragile being who had darei speak 
 such impious words. The attendant fathers rose simultane- 
 "ously, and formed a semicircle round their superior, ready, 
 at his slightest signal, to hurl down on her the anathema of 
 the church ; reverence to the Sub-Prior alone preventing the 
 urse from instantly bursting forth. The nobles, the Asso 
 ciated Brethren, Ferdinand himself, started almost uncon 
 sciously to their feet, and an eager rush brought many of the 
 citizens ^still nearer to the scene of action. The prisoner, 
 with an irresistible impulse, darted forwards, and ere any one 
 had recovered from his trance of bewilderment, had flung 
 himself at Marie s feet. 
 
 " Marie ! Marie !" he exclaimed, in a voice so hoarse and 
 choked, its words were heard by her alone. " Oh ! why hast 
 thou done this ? Why not take the required oath, and con 
 demn me at once? Marie, I am unworthy of such self- 
 sacrifice !" 
 
 " Ha ! didst thou slay him then ? Have I judged thee 
 too kindly, Arthur," she answered : and the hand she laid 
 heavily on his shoulder trembled so violently, it was evident 
 she had thus placed it only to save her from sinking to the 
 ground, for the unnatural strength had gone. 
 
 " No !" he exclaimed, in a tone and with a look that satis 
 fied her at once, and there was no time for more. The King 
 had perceived that the Sub-Prior was recovering composure, 
 an d with it energy of action ; though himself a zealous Catholic, 
 he felt compelled to save Marie. "Hold! hold!" he said 
 hastily, as Father Francis was about to speak. Reverend 
 Father, we j ray thee, be not over hasty in this matter ; these 
 
146 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 are strange and terrible words ; but they are meaningless ; 
 they must be. Her misery has turned her brain ; she is 
 mad ; heed her not ; be silent all of ye ! See how she glares 
 upon the prisoner ! Is that the look of sanity ? 13y St. 
 Francis, we have done wrong to call her hither ! Stand 
 back, good fathers. Kemove the prisoner ; and let Donna 
 Marie be conducted from the hall. Our Consort should have 
 warned us of this !" 
 
 " Forbear, my liege !" replied the Sub-Prior sternly. 
 "The blaspheming words were all too calmly and collective 
 ly spoken for the ravings of madness. Let not the false un 
 believer pass hence till at least she has done reverence to the 
 sacred symbol, she has, by daring denial, insulted. As thou 
 wouldst save thine own soul from hell-fire, my liege, interfere 
 not in this !" 
 
 As he spoke, several soldiers had endeavored rudely to 
 drag Arthur from Marie : he strove fiercely for freedom, for 
 but one hour s power to protect her, but in vain. And the 
 look she fixed upon him, as he was torn from her, from its 
 contrast with her previous profound calm, did indeed seem 
 almost of madness. The excitement which had enabled her 
 to make this dread avowal an avowal comprising such 
 variety, and terrible danger, that the magnitude of the sacri 
 fice comprised in the confession can now scarcely be under 
 stood ; danger, not merely from the vengeance of the church 
 for long years of fraud, nor from the secret and awful tribunal 
 of whose existence she was conscious (though not of its close 
 vicinity) ; not merely these, but danger from the wrath and 
 terrors of the secret members of her own faith, who might na 
 turally imagine their own safety endangered in the suspicion, 
 engendered by her rash confession. Of all this she had 
 thought; had believed herself strengthened to brave and 
 bear every possible suffering, rather than breathe those 
 words which must seal Stanley s fate ; but now that she had 
 spoken, though she would not have recalled them if she could 
 such an overpowering, crushing sense of all she had drawn 
 upon herself, such fearful, spectral shapes of indefinable 
 horror came upon her. that, as the Sub-Prior stood again 
 before her with the uplifted cross, bidding her kneel and 
 acknowledge him whose fate it imaged she burst into a 
 wild hysteric laugh, and fell prone upon the floor. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 147 
 
 " Said I not she was mad ? And what need was there 
 for this unmanly violence?" angrily exclaimed the Monarch; 
 and, starting from his seat, he authoritatively waved back the 
 denouncing monks, and himself bent over Marie. The Duke 
 of Murcia, Don Felix d Estaban, the Lord of Aguilar. and 
 several other nobles following the Sovereign s example, hast 
 ened to her assistance. But to restore animation was not in 
 their power, and on the King s whispered commands, Don 
 Felix gently, even tenderly raised her, and bore her in his 
 arms from the hall. Even in that moment of excitement 
 Ferdinand could not forbear glancing at the prisoner, whose 
 passionate struggles to escape from the guard, when Marie 
 fell, had been noticed by all, and unhappily, combined with 
 his previous irritation, but confirmed the unspoken suspi 
 cions of many as to the real cause of his enmity against Don 
 Ferdinand. The expression of his countenance was of such 
 contending, terrible suffering, that the King hastily withdrew 
 his gaze, vainly endeavoring to disbelieve, as he had done, 
 the truth of Garcia s charge. 
 
 Order was at length universally restored, and after a 
 brief silence, the chief of the Santa Hermandad demanded of 
 the prisoner if he had aught to say in his defence, or reply 
 himself to Don Luis Garcia s charge. The reply was a stern, 
 determined negative ; and, deputed so to do by the Sub-Prior, 
 who seemed so absorbed in the horror of Marie s daring 
 avowal, as to be incapable of further interference, the Her- 
 mano proceeded to sum up the evidence. As the widow of 
 the deceased had so strangely, yet effectually deprived them 
 of her evidence, he said, he thought some slight regard ought 
 to be paid to Don Luis Garcia s words ; but even without 
 doing so, the circumstantial evidence, though contradictory 
 and complicated, was enough in his opinion to convict the 
 prisoner ; but he referred to his associates and to the peers 
 then present, to pronounce sentence. His task was but to 
 sum up the evidence, which he trusted he had done distinct 
 ly ; his opinion was that of but one individual ; there were 
 at least fifty or sixty voices, to confirm or to oppose it. 
 
 Deep and sustained as had been the interest throughout 
 the trial, it was never more intense than during the awful 
 pause which heralded the prisoner s doom. It was spoken 
 at length ; the majority alike of the nobles and of the Santa 
 
148 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 Hermandad, believed and pronounced him guilty, and sen 
 tence of death was accordingly passed ; but the Duke of 
 Murcia then stepped forward, and urged the following, not 
 only in the name of his brother peers, but in the name of 
 his native sovereign, Isabella ; that in consideration of the 
 complicated and contradictory evidence, of the prisoner s 
 previous high character, and of his strongly protested in 
 nocence, a respite of one month should be granted between 
 sentence and execution, to permit prayers to be offered up 
 throughout Spain for the discovery of the real murderer, ox 
 at least allow time for some proof of innocence to appear ; 
 during which time the prisoner should be removed from the 
 hateful dungeon he had till that morning occupied, and con 
 fined under strict ward, in one of the turrets of the castle ; 
 and that, if at the end of the granted month affairs remained 
 as they were then, that no proof of innocence appeared, a 
 scaffold was to be erected in the Calle Soledad, on the exact 
 spot where the murder was committed ; there the prisoner, 
 publicly degraded from the honors and privileges of chivalry, 
 his sword broken before him, his spurs ignominiously struck 
 from his heels, would then receive the award of the law, death 
 from hanging, the usual fate of the vilest and commonest 
 malefactors. 
 
 Ferdinand and the Sub-Prior regarded him attentively 
 while this sentence was pronounced, but not a muscle in his 
 countenance moved ; what it expressed it would have been 
 difficult to define ; but it seemed as if his thoughts were on 
 other than himself. The King courteously thanked the 
 assemblage for their aid in a matter so momentous, and at 
 once ratified their suggestion. The Associated Brethren 
 were satisfied that it was Isabella s will ; confident also in 
 their own power to prevent the evasion, and bring about the 
 execution of the sentence, if still required, at the termination 
 of the given time ; and with a brief but impressive address 
 from the Sub-Prior to the prisoner, the assemblage dis 
 persed. 
 
 But the excitement of the city ceased not with the con 
 clusion of the trial : not alone the populace, but the nobles 
 themselves, even the Holy Fathers and Associated Brethren 
 were seen, forming in various groups, conversing eagerly and 
 mysteriously. The interest in the prisoner had in some 
 
OH, THE MARTYR. 149 
 
 measure given way to a new excitement. Question followed 
 question, conjecture followed conjecture, but nothing could 
 solve the mystery of Donna Marie s terrible avowal, or de 
 crease the bewilderment and perplexity which, from various 
 causes, it created in every mind. One alone, amongst the 
 vast crowds which had thronged the trial, shunned his 
 fellows. Not a change in the calm, cold, sneering expression 
 of Don Luis Garcia s countenance had betrayed either sur 
 prise at, or sympathy with, any one of the various emotions 
 stirring that vast multitude of human hearts ; he had 
 scarcely even moved his position during the continuance of 
 the trial, casting indeed many a glance on the immediate 
 scene of action, from beneath his thick and shadowy eye 
 brows, which concealed the sinister gaze from observation. 
 He shunned the face of day ; but in his own dark haunts, 
 and with his hellish colleagues, plans were formed and acted 
 on, with a rapidity which, to minds less matured in iniquity, 
 would have seemed incredible. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The quality of mercy is not strain d, 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven 
 Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed, 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes ; 
 Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE interest attending a trial, in which royalty had evinced 
 such powerful sympathy, naturally extended to every member 
 of Isabella s female train : her anxiety as to the issue had been 
 very visible, notwithstanding her calm and quiet demeanor. 
 The Infanta Isabella and the Infant Don Juan were with 
 her during the morning as usual ; but even their infantile 
 caresses, dearer to her true woman s heart than all her vast 
 possessions, had failed to disperse the anxiety of thought. 
 Few can peruse the interesting life of Isabella of Castile 
 
15C THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 without being struck by the fact, that even as her public 
 career was one of unmixed prosperity for her country and 
 herself, her private sorrows and domestic trials vied, in their 
 bitterness, with those of the poorest and humblest of her 
 subjects. Her first-born, the Infanta Isabella, who united 
 all the brilliant and. endearing qualities of her mother, with 
 great beauty, both of face and form, became a loving bride 
 o^y to become a widow a mother, only to gaze upon Ver 
 babe, and die ; and her orphan quickly followed. Don Juan, 
 the delight and pride and hope of his parents, as of the 
 enthusiasm and almost idolatry of their subjects, died in his 
 twentieth year. The hapless Catherine of Arragon, with 
 whose life of sorrow and neglect every reader of English 
 history is acquainted, though they sometimes forget her 
 illustrious parentage j her sorrows indeed Isabella was 
 spared, as she died before Henry the Eighth ascended the 
 English throne. But it was Juana, the wife of Philip, and 
 mother of Charles V., whose intellects, always feeble, and 
 destroyed by the neglect and unkindness of the husband she 
 idolized, struck the last and fatal blow. And she, whom all 
 Europe regarded with unfeigned veneration she whom her 
 own subjects so idolized, they would gladly have laid down a 
 thousand lives for hers she fell a victim to a mother s heart- 
 consuming grief* Who then, after perusing her life, and 
 that of how many other sovereigns, will refuse them the 
 meed of sympathy, because, raised so far above us in out 
 ward things, we deem the griefs and feelings of common 
 humanity unknown and uncared for? To our mind, the 
 destiny of the Sovereign, the awful responsibility, the utter 
 loneliness of sation, the general want of sympathy, the prone- 
 ness to be condemned for faults or omissions of which they 
 are, individually, as innocent as their contemners, present a 
 subject for consideration and sympathy, and ought to check 
 the unkind thoughts and hasty condemnation, excited merely 
 because they are placed in rank and circumstances above us. 
 
 * Isabella had been previously attacked by dangerous indisposi 
 tion, from which, however, the natural strength of her constitution 
 would have enabled her in some degree to rally ; but the springs of 
 life had been injured by previous bereavement. Her lungs became 
 affected, and the symptoms of decline rapidly and fatally increased 
 from continual affliction of mind. History of Spain. 
 
Oil, THE MARTYR. 151 
 
 A King of kings has placed them there, and a Universal 
 Father calls them His children, even as ourselves. 
 
 Isabella had not seen Marie that morning ; her trusty 
 attendant, Donna Inez de Leon, had alone been with her, 
 and had reported that she was calm and composed, and more 
 like herself than she had been since her bereavement. Time 
 passed but slowly, and Catherine Pas, the same high-spirited 
 maiden mentioned in a former chapter, perceiving that the 
 Queen s anxiety evidently increased as the hours waned, 
 quietly left the chamber, unbidden, and even unseen. A 
 brief interval saw her return, and with a countenance so ex 
 pressive of horrified bewilderment, as to excite the astonish 
 ment of all. 
 
 " Oh, madam !" she exclaimed, as she flew to the Queen s 
 seat, regardless of either decorum or rebuke ; " Oh, madam, 
 it has killed her ; she is dying !" 
 
 " Dying !" repeated Isabella, and the whole strength < 
 her character was put forth to prevent her starting from her 
 seat. "Dying! who is dying? Speak out, m banta 
 Maria s name !" 
 
 Donna Marie the poor, unhappy Marie ; she has been 
 borne from the hall ! Don Felix had her in his arms I . 
 saw her ; I followed them, and she looked dead, quite dead : 
 they would not let me go to her at first, till I called them 
 hard-hearted wretches ! And I have tried to rouse her, but 
 I could not. Oh, save her, gracious madam ! Do not let 
 
 And have they none with her ?" demanded the Queen. 
 " But whom can they have, save her own terrified women 1 
 Inez Leonor go to her at once ! Your skill and tender 
 ness will soon revive her; this silly child is terrified at 
 shadows. Tis but a faint, such as followed the announce 
 ment of her husband s death. If any one dare refuse you 
 entrance, tell them you go in your Queen s name. Foolish 
 trembler," she added, in a tone of relief, as her commands 
 were instantly obeyed, " why this excessive agitation, when 
 thou hast seen a faint like this before ?" 
 
 " Nay, but by your leave, gracious madam, I have not, 
 replied Catherine, with emotion. "There is far more of 
 horror in this ; she is cold cold, like stone ; and they have 
 planted a guard at the entrance of her apartments, and they 
 tell a tale so wild and strange, I cannot give it credence 1" 
 
152 THE VALE OF CEDARS, 
 
 "Ha ! what say they?" demanded the Queen hastily, her 
 eyes flashing with light, as they always did when she was ex 
 cited. " What can it be, too wild and strange for thy hair- 
 brained fancy to believe ? Marvellous it must be indeed !" 
 
 " Isabella spoke jestingly, but her heart was not with her 
 words : and Catherine replied with tears starting to her eyes, 
 " Oh, do not speak thus, my liege. It is indeed no theme for 
 jest. ;J And she continued so rapidly, that to any but the 
 quickened mind of Isabella, her words must have seemed un 
 intelligible. " They say she is a heretic, royal madam 
 Nay, worse a blaspheming unbeliever ; that she has refused 
 to take the oath, on plea of not believing in the Holy Catho 
 lic Church ; that she has insulted, has trampled on the 
 sacred cross ! Nor is this all worse, yet worse ; they say 
 she has proclaimed herself a JEWESS ! an abhorred, an un 
 believing Jewess !" 
 
 A general start and loud exclamation of horror was the 
 natural rejoinder to this unlooked-for intelligence ; but not 
 from Isabella, whose flashing eyes were still fixed on the 
 young girl s face, as to read in her soul the confirmation of 
 these strange words. "What dost thou say ^" she said at 
 length, and so slowly, a second might have intervened be 
 tween each word. " Speak ! let me hear again ! A Jewess ! 
 Santa Maria ! But no ; it cannot be. They must have told 
 thee false !" 
 
 So the Queen spoke ; but ere Catherine had concluded a 
 calmer repetition of the tale, Marie s words of the preceding 
 evening rushed back on her mind, confirming it but too sure 
 ly. " To-morrow all will be distinct and clear enough !" she 
 had said ; ay, distinct it was ; and so engrossingly intense 
 became the thoughts thronging in her mind, bewildering suc 
 cession, that Isabella sat motionless, her brow leaning on her 
 hand, wholly unconscious of the lapse of time. 
 
 A confusion in the gallery, and the words, " The King ! 
 the King !" roused her at length ; and never was the appear 
 ance of Ferdinand more welcome, not only to Isabella, but 
 to her attendants, as giving them the longed-for opportunity 
 to retire, and so satisfy curiosity, and give vent to the won 
 derment which, from their compelled silence in Isabella s 
 presence, had actually become intolerable. 
 
 Ferdinand speedily narrated the affairs of the morning, 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 153 
 
 and concluded by inquiring if any thing had occurred in her 
 interview with Marie to excite suspicion of her mad design. 
 The Queen replied by relating, in her turn, all that had 
 passed between them. The idea of madness could no longer 
 exist ; there was not the faintest hope that in a moment of 
 frenzy she had spoken falsely. 
 
 " And yet, was it not madness," the King urged, " thus 
 publicly to avow a determined heresy, and expose herself to 
 all the horrors of the church s vengeance ! Years of de 
 ception and fraud ! she told thee, would be disclosed. ]By 
 St. Francis ! fraud enough. Who could have suspocted the 
 wife of Don Ferdinand Morales a Jewess 1 It was on thii 
 account he kept her so retired. How could he reconcile his 
 conscience to a union with one of a race so abhorred, beau 
 tiful as she is ? And where could he have found her? But 
 this matters not : it is all wild conjecture, save the madness 
 of the avowal. What cause could there have been for such 
 self-sacrifice ?" 
 
 "There was a cause," replied the Queen earnestly; 
 " cause enough to render life to her of little moment. Do 
 not ask me my meaning, dearest Ferdinand ; I would not do 
 her such wrong as to breathe the suspicion that, spite of my 
 self, spite of incomprehensible mystery, will come, even to 
 thee. Do not let us regret her secret is discovered. Let her 
 but recover from the agony of these repeated trials, and with 
 the help of our holy fathers, we may yet turn her from her 
 abhorred faith, and so render her happy in this world, and 
 secure her salvation in the next." 
 
 " The help of the holy fathers !" repeated the King. 
 r Nay, Isabel, their sole help will be to torture and burn ! 
 They will accuse her of insulting, by years of deceit, the 
 holy faith, of which she has appeared a member. Nay, per 
 chance of using foul magic on Morales (whom the saints pre 
 serve), and then thou knowest what will follow !" 
 
 The Queen shuddered. "Never with my consent, my 
 husband ! From the first moment I beheld this unfortunate, 
 something attracted me towards her ; her misery deepened 
 the feeling; and even now, knowing what she is, affection 
 lingers. The Holy Virgin give me pardon, if tis sin !" 
 
 " For such sin I will give thee absolution, dearest," re 
 plied the King, half jestingly, half earnestly. " Do not look 
 
154 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 so grave. No one knows, or values thy sterling piety half so 
 tenderly and reverentially as I do. But this is no common 
 case. Were Marie one of those base and grovelling wretches, 
 those accursed unbelievers, who taint our fair realm with their 
 abhorred rites think of nothing but gold and usury, and 
 how best to cheat their fellows ; hating us almost as intensely 
 as we hate them why. she should abide by the fate she has 
 drawn upon herself. But the wife of my noble Morales, one 
 who has associated so long with zealous Catholics, that she is 
 already most probably one of us, and only avowed her de 
 scent from some mysterious cause by St. Francis, she shall 
 be saved !" 
 
 " But how ?" inquired Isabella anxiously. " Wouldst 
 thou deny her faith to Father Francis, and persuade him she 
 has spoken falsely ?" 
 
 The King shook his head. " That will never do, Isabel. 
 I have had the holy man closeted with me already, insisting 
 on the sanity of her words, and urging me to resign the unbe 
 liever at once to the tender mercy of the church. All must 
 depend on thee." 
 
 " On me ?" repeated Isabella, in a tone of surprised yet 
 anxious inquiry. 
 
 " On thee, love. Thy perfect humility is ignorant of the 
 fact yet it is nevertheless perfectly true that thou art 
 reverenced, well nigh canonized, by the holy church ; and 
 thy words will have weight when mine would be light as air. 
 Refuse the holy fathers all access to her ; say she is unfitted 
 to encounter them ; that she is ill 5 nay, mad, if thou wilt. 
 Bring forward the state in which she was borne from the 
 hall ; her very laugh (by St. Francis, it rings in my ear still) 
 to confirm it, and they will believe thee. The present ex 
 citement will gradually subside, and her very existence be 
 forgotten. Let none but thy steadiest, most pious matrons 
 have access to her ; forbid thy young maidens to approach 
 or hold converse with her ; and her being under thy protec 
 tion can do harm to none. Let her be prisoner in her own 
 apartments, an thou wilt; she deserves punishment for the 
 deception practised towards thee. Treat her as thou deem- 
 est best, only give her not up to the mercy of the church !" 
 
 " Talk not of it," replied the Queen earnestly. " Unbe 
 liever though she be, offspring of a race which every true 
 
155 
 
 Catholic must hold in abhorrence, she is yet a woman, Fer 
 dinand, and, as such, demands and shall receive the protec 
 tion of her Queen. Yet, would there were some means of 
 saving her from the eternal perdition to which, as a Jewess, 
 she is destined ; some method, without increase of suffering, 
 to allure her, as a penitent and believing child, to the bosom 
 of our holy mother church." 
 
 " And to do this, who so fitted as thyself, dearest Isabel ?" 
 answered the King with earnest affection. " Thou hast able 
 assistants in some of thy older matrons, and may aftor a 
 while call in the aid of Father Denis, whose kindly nature is 
 better fitted for gentle conversion than either Francis, or thy 
 still sterner chaplain, Torquemada. Thy kindness has gained 
 thce the love of this misguided one ; and if any one have suffi 
 cient influence to convert, by other than sharp means, it can 
 only be thyself." 
 
 Isabella was not long undecided. Her heart felt that to 
 turn Marie from blindness and perdition by kindness and af 
 fection would be indeed far more acceptable to the virgin 
 (her own peculiar saint) than the heretic s blood, and she 
 answered with animation, " Then so it shall be, Ferdinand ; 
 I fear me, alas ! that there will be little reason to prevari 
 cate, to deny all spiritual access to her. Thy report, com 
 bined with my terrified Catherine s, gives me but little hope 
 for health or reason. But should she indeed recover, trust 
 ine she shall be happy yet." 
 
 Great was the astonishment of the guards as they beheld 
 their Sovereign fearlessly enter the chamber of a proclaimed 
 Jewess a word in their minds synonymous with the lowest, 
 most degraded rank of being ; and yet more, to hear and 
 perceive that she herself was administering relief. The at 
 tendants of Isabella whose curiosity was now more than 
 satisfied, for the tale had been repeated with the usual exag 
 gerations, even to a belief that she had used the arts of sorce 
 ry on Morales huddled together in groups, heaping every 
 opprobrious epithet upon her, and accusing her of exposing 
 them all to the horrors of purgatory by contaminating them 
 with her -presence. And as the Sovereign re-appeared in her 
 saloon with the leech Benedicto, whose aid she had summon 
 ed, there were many who ventured to conjure her not to ex 
 pose herself to such pollution as the tending of a Jewess 
 
15-5 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 to leave her to the fate her fraud so merited. Even Cathe* 
 rine. finding to disbelieve the tale any longer was impossible, 
 and awed and terrified at the mysterious words of her com 
 panions, which told of danger to her beloved mistress, flung 
 herself on her knees before her, clasping her robe to detain 
 her from again seeking the chamber of Marie. Then was 
 the moment for a painter to have seized on the face and form 
 of Isabella ! Her eye flashed till its very cclor was undis- 
 tinguishable, her lip curled, every feature usually so mild 
 and feminine was so transformed by indignation into 
 majesty and unutterable scorn as scarcely to have been re- t 
 cognized. Her slight and graceful form dilated till the \ ery 
 boldest cowered before her, even before she spoke; for never 
 had they so encountered her reproof: 
 
 " Are ye women ?" she said at length, in the quiet, con 
 centrated tone of strong emotion ; " or are we deceived as 
 to the meaning of your words ? Pollution ! Are we to see 
 a young, unhappy being perish for want of sympathy and 
 succor, because forsooth she is a Jewess ? Danger to our 
 soul ! "We should indeed fear it ; did we leave her to die, 
 without one effort to restore health to the frame, and the 
 peace of Christ to the mind ! Has every spark of woman s 
 nature faded from your hearts, that ye can speak thus ? If 
 for yourselves you fear, tend her not, approach her not we 
 will ourselves give her the aid she needs. And as for thee," 
 she continued severely, as she forced the now trembling 
 Catherine to stand upright before her, " whose energy to 
 serve Marie we loved and applauded ; child as thou art, 
 must thou too speak of pollution 1 but example may have done 
 this. Follow me, minion ; and then talk of pollution if thou 
 canst !" And with a swift step Isabella led the way to the 
 chamber of Marie. 
 
 " Behold !" she said emphatically, as she pointed to the 
 unhappy sufferer, who, though restored to life, was still ut 
 terly unconscious where she was or who surrounded her ; her 
 cheek and brow, white and damp ; her large eye lustreless 
 and wandering j her lip and eyelid quivering convulsively j 
 her whole appearance proving too painfully that reason had 
 indeed, for the time, fled. The soul had been strong till the I 
 dread words were said ; but the re-action had been too much 
 for cither frame or mind. " Catherine ! thou hast seen her 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 157 
 
 in her beauty, the cherished, the beloved of all who knew 
 her seen her when no loveliness could mate with hers. Thou 
 seest now the wreck that misery has made, though she has 
 numbered but few more years than thou hast ! Detest, 
 abhor, avoid her faith for that we command thee ; but her 
 sex, her sorrow, have a claim to sympathy and aid, which 
 not even her race can remove. Jewess though she be, if thou 
 can look on her thus, and still speak of pollution and danger, 
 thou art not what we deemed thee !" 
 
 Struck to the heart, alike by the marked display of a 
 mistress she idolized and the sympathy her better nature 
 really felt for Marie, Catherine sunk on her knees by the 
 couch, and burst into tears. Isabella watched her till her 
 unusual indignation subsided, and then said more kindly, 
 " It is enough ; go, Catherine. If we judge thee rightly 
 thou wilt not easily forget this lesson ! Again I bid thee ab 
 hor her faith ; but seek to win her to the right path, by gen 
 tleness and love, not prejudice and hate." 
 
 " Oh ! let me tarry here and tend her, my gracious 
 Sovereign," implored Catherine, again clasping Isabella s 
 robe and looking beseechingly in her face but from a very 
 different feeling to the prompter of the same action a few 
 minutes before " Oh, madam, do not send me from her ! I 
 will be so gentle, so active watch, tend, serve ; only say 
 your Grace s bidding, and I will do it, if I stood by her 
 alone !" 
 
 " My bidding would be but the prompting? of thine own 
 heart, my girl," replied the Queen, fondly, for she saw the 
 desired impression had been made. " If I need thee which 
 I may do I will call upon thee ; but now, thou canst do 
 nothing, but think kindly, and judge mercifully important 
 work indeed, if thou wouldst serve an erring and unhappy 
 fellow-creature, with heart as well as hand. But now go : 
 nay, not so sorrowfully ; thy momentary fault is forgiven," 
 she added, kindly, as she extended her hand towards the 
 evidently pained and penitent maiden, who raised it grateful 
 ly and reverentially to her lips, and thoughtfully withdrew. 
 
 It was not, however, with her attendants only, this gener 
 ous and high-minded princess had to contend with them 
 her example was enough ; but the task was much more diffi 
 cult, when the following day, as King Ferdinand had antici- 
 
158 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 pated, brought the stern Sub-Prior of St. Francis to demand, 
 in the church s name, the immediate surrender of Marie. 
 But Isabella s decision once formed never wavered. Marie 
 was under her protection, she said an erring indeed, but 
 an unhappy young creature, who, by her very confession, had 
 thrown herself on the mercy of her Sovereign and she 
 would not deliver up the charge. In vain the Prior urged 
 the abomination of a Jewess residing under her very roof 
 the danger to her soul should she be tempted to associate 
 with her, and that granting protection to an avowed and 
 blaspheming unbeliever must expose her to the suspicions, 
 or, at least the censure of the church. Isabella was inexor 
 able. To his first and second clause she quietly answered as 
 she had done to her own attendants ; his third only produced 
 a calm and fearless smile. She knew too well, as did the 
 Prior also, though for the time he chose to forget it, that her 
 character for munificent and heartfelt piety was too well es 
 tablished, not only in Spain but throughout Europe, to be 
 shaken even by the protection of a Jewess. Father Francis 
 then solicited to see her ; but even this point he could not 
 gain. Isabella had, alas ! no need to equivocate as to the 
 reason of his non-admission to Marie. Reason had indeed 
 returned, and with it the full sense of the dangers she had 
 drawn upon herself; but neither frame nor mind was in a 
 state to encounter such an interview as the Prior demanded! 
 The severity of Father Francis originated, as we have be 
 fore remarked, neither in weak intellect nor selfish supersti 
 tion. Towards himself indeed he never relented either in 
 severity or discipline ; towards others benevolence and hu 
 manity very often gained ascendency ; and something very 
 like a tear glistened in his eye as Isabella forcibly portrayed 
 the state in which Marie still remained. And when she con 
 cluded, by frankly imparting her intention, if health were 
 indeed restored, to leave no means untried even to pursue 
 some degree of severity if nothing else would do to wean 
 her from her mistaken faith, he not only abandoned his 
 previous intentions, but commended and blessed the nobler 
 purpose of his Sovereign. To his request that Marie might 
 be restrained from all intercourse with the younger members 
 of Isabella s female court in fact, associate with none but 
 strict and uncompromising Catholics the Queen readily ac- 
 
Oil, 1HE MARTYR. 159 
 
 4 
 
 ceded ; and moreover, granted him full permission to exam 
 ine the mansion of Don Ferdinand Morales, that any books 
 or articles of dangerous or heretical import might be dis 
 covered and destroyed. 
 
 With these concessions Father Francis left his Sovereign, 
 affected at her goodness and astonished at her influence on 
 himself. He had entered her presence believing nothing 
 could change the severity of his intentions or the harsnness 
 of his feelings ; he left her with the one entirely renounced, 
 and the other utterly subdued. 
 
 Such was the triumph of prejudice achieved by the lofty- 
 minded and generous woman, who swayed the sceptre of 
 Castile.* And yet, though every history of the time unites 
 in so portraying her ; though her individual character was 
 the noblest, the most magnanimous, the most complete union 
 of masculine intellect with perfect womanhood, ever traced 
 on the pages of the past ; though under her public adminis 
 tration her kingdom stood forth the noblest, the most refined, 
 most generous, ay, and the freest, alike in national position, 
 as in individual sentiment, amongst all the nations of Europe, 
 Isabella s was the fated hand to sign two edicts.f whose con 
 sequences extinguished the lustre, diminished the virtues, 
 enslaved the sentiments, checked the commerce, and in a 
 word deteriorated the whole character of Spain. 
 
 For fourteen days affairs remained the same. At the 
 end of that period the castle and city of Segovia were thrown 
 
 * We are authorized to give this character to Isabella of Castile, 
 and annex the lustre of such action to her memory ; as we knoAV that 
 even when, by the persuasions and representations of Torquemada, 
 the Inquisition was publicly established, Isabella constantly interfered 
 her authority to prevent zeal from becoming inhumanity. Rendered 
 unusually penetrating by her peculiarly feeling and gentle nature, she 
 discovered, what was concealed from others, "That many enormities 
 may be committed under the veil of religion many innocent persons 
 falsely accused ; their riches being their only crime. Her exertions 
 brought such things to light, and the suborners were punished accord 
 ing to their guilt." WASHINGTON IRVING S Siege of Granada. 
 
 Of Ferdinand too we are told, "Rcspeto la jurisdiction ecdesiastica, y 
 conservo la real :" he respected the ecclesiastical jurisdiction, but 
 guarded or was jealous, for that of the crown. His determination, 
 therefore, to refuse the church s interference in the case of Marie, 
 though unusual to his age, is warranted by his larger niind and freer 
 policy. 
 
 f The establishmejit of the Inquisition, and expulsion of the Jews 
 
160 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 
 
 anew into a state of the wildest excitement by a most myste 
 rious occurrence Marie had disappeared. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Meekly had he bowed and prayed, 
 As not disdaining priestly aid ; 
 And while before the Prior kneeling, 
 His heart was weaned from earthly feeling : 
 No more reproach, no more despair 
 No thought but heaven, no word but prayer." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 TIME passed slowly on, and no proof appeared to clear Arthui 
 Stanley s fame. All that man s judgment could counsel, was 
 adopted secret measures were taken throughout Spain, for 
 the apprehension of any individual suspected of murder, or 
 even of criminal deeds ; constant prayers offered up, that if 
 Arthur Stanley were not the real murderer, proofs of his in 
 nocence might be made so evident that not even his greatest 
 enemy could doubt any longer ; but all seemed of no avail. 
 "Week after week passed, and with the exception of one most 
 mysterious occurrence, affairs remained the same. So strong 
 was the belief of the nobles in his innocence, that the most 
 strenuous exertions were made in his favor ; but, strong as 
 Ferdinand s own wish was to save him, his love of justice was 
 still stronger ; though the testimony of Don Luis might be 
 set aside, calm deliberation on all the evidence against him 
 marked it as sufficiently strong to have sentenced any other 
 so accused at once. The resolute determination to purge 
 their kingdom from the black crimes of former years, which 
 both sovereigns felt and unitedly acted upon, urged them to 
 conquer every private wish and feeling, rather than depart 
 from the line laid down. The usual dispensers of justice, 
 the Santa Hermandad men chosen by their brother citizens 
 for their lucid judgment, clearness of perception, and utter 
 absence of all overplus of chivalrous feeling, in matters of 
 cool dispassionate reasoning were unanimous in theic belief 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. A 61 
 
 in the prisoner s guilt, and only acquiesced in the month s 
 reprieve, because it was Isabella s wish. Against their 
 verdict what could be brought forward ? In reality nothing 
 but the prisoner s own strongly-attested innocence an 
 attestation most forcible in the minds of the Sovereign and 
 the nobles, but of no weight whatever to men accustomed to 
 weigh, and examine, and cross-examine, and decide on proof, 
 or at least from analogy, and never from an attestation, 
 which the greatest criminals might as forcibly make. The 
 power and election of these men Ferdinand and Isabella had 
 confirmed. How could they, then, interfere in the present 
 case, and shackle the judgment which they had endowed 
 vvith authority, dispute and deny the sentence they had 
 previously given permission to pronounce? Pardon they 
 might, and restore to life and liberty ; but the very act of 
 pronouncing pardon supposed belief in and proclamation of 
 guilt. There was but one thing which could save him and 
 satisfy justice, and that was the sentence of "not guilty." 
 For this reason Ferdinand refused every petition for Stan 
 ley s reprieve, hoping indeed, spite of all reason, that even at 
 the eleventh hour evidence of his innocence would and must 
 appear. 
 
 . Stanley himself had no such hope. All his better and 
 higher nature had been called forth by the awful and myste 
 rious death of Morales, dealt too by his own sword that 
 sword which, in his wild passions, he had actually prayed 
 might shed his blood. The film of passion had dropped 
 alike from mental and bodily vision. He beheld his irritated 
 feelings in their true light, and knew himself in thought a 
 murderer. He would have sacrificed life itself, could he but 
 have recalled the words of insult offered to one so noble; not 
 for the danger to himself from their threatening nature, but 
 for the injurious injustice done to the man from whom he 
 had received a hundred acts of little unobtrusive kindnesses, 
 and whom he had once revered as the model of every thing 
 virtuous and noble services which Morales had rendered 
 him, felt gratefully perhaps at the time, but forgotten in the 
 absorption of thought or press of occupation during his 
 sojourn in Sicily, now rushed back upon him, marking him 
 ingrate as well as dishonored. All that had happened he re 
 garded as Divine judgment on an unspoken, unacted, but not 
 
162 THE VALE OF CEDARSJ 
 
 the less encouraged sin. The fact that his sword had done 
 the deed, convinced him that his destruction had been con 
 nived at, as well as that of Morales. A suspicion as to the 
 designer, if not the actual doer of the need, had indeed taken 
 possession of him ; but it was an idea so wild, so unfounded, 
 that he dared not give it words. 
 
 From the idea of death, and such a death, his whole soul 
 indeed revolted ; but to avert it seemed so utterly impossible, 
 that he bent his proud spirit unceasingly to its anticipation ; 
 and with the spiritual aid of the good and feeling Father 
 Francis, in some degree succeeded. It was not the horror of 
 his personal fate alone which bade him so shrink from death. 
 Marie was free once more ; nay, had from the moment of her 
 dread avowal made, he intuitively felt, to save him become, 
 if possible, dearer, more passionately loved than before. And, 
 oh ! how terrible is the anticipation of early death to those 
 that love ! the only trial which bids even the most truly 
 spiritual, yet while on earth still human heart, forget that if 
 earth is loved and lovely, heaven must be lovelier still. 
 
 From Don Felix d Estaban, his friendly warder, he heard 
 of Isabella s humane intentions toward her ; that her senses 
 had been restored, and she was, to all appearance, the same 
 in health as she had been since her husband s death ; only 
 evidently suffering more, which might be easily accounted 
 for from the changed position in which the knowledge of her 
 unbelief had placed her with all the members of Isabella s 
 court ; that the only agitation she had evinced was, when 
 threatened with a visit from Father Francis who, finding 
 nothing in the mansion of Don Ferdinand Morales to con 
 firm the truth of her confession, had declared his conviction 
 that there must be some secret chamber destined for her 
 especial use. As if shrinking from the interview he demand 
 ed, Marie had said to the Senora, to whose care she had been 
 intrusted " He need not seek me to obtain this information. 
 For my husband s sake alone I concealed the faith in which 
 I glory. Let Father Francis remove a sliding panel beneath 
 the tapestry behind the couch in my sleeping apartment, 
 and he will find not only all he seeks, but the surest proof 
 of my husband s care and tenderness for me, unbeliever 
 though he might deem me." 
 
 The discovery of this secret closet, Don Felix continued, 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 163 
 
 had caused much marvel throughout the court. Where 
 Morales had found her, or how he could have reconciled his 
 conscience not only to make her his wife, but permit her the 
 free exercise of a religion accursed in the sight both of God 
 and man, under his own roof, were questions impossible to 
 solve, or reconcile with the character of orthodox Catholicism 
 he had so long borne. The examination had been conducted 
 with the church s usual secrecy ; the volumes of heresy and 
 unbelief (it did not signify that the word of God was amongst 
 them) burnt ; the silver lamps and other ornaments melted 
 down, to enrich, by an image of the virgin, the church of St. 
 Francis; the recess itself purified with incense and sprinkled 
 with holy water ; the sign of the cross deeply burnt in the 
 walls; and the panel which formed the secret entrance firmly 
 fastened up, that its very existence should be forgotten. The 
 matter, however, Don Felix added, was not publicly spoken 
 of, as both the King and Queen, in conjunction with the Sub- 
 Prior, seemed to wish all that had passed, in which Donna 
 Marie was concerned, should be gradually forgotten. Don 
 Ferdinand s vast possessions had, in consequence of his 
 widow s being an unbeliever, and so having no power to 
 inherit, reverted to the crown ; but in case of Marie s con 
 version, of which Don Felix appeared to entertain little 
 doubt, the greater part would be restored to her. Till then, 
 Marie was kept in strict confinement in the palace ; but all 
 harsher measures Isabella had resolved to avoid. 
 
 This intelligence relieved Stanley s mind of one painful 
 dread, while it unconsciously increased his wish to live. 
 Marie free ! a Catholic ! what could come between them 
 then 1 Must she not love him, else why seek to save him ? 
 And then again the mystery darkened round her. A wild 
 suspicion as to the real reason of her having wedded Ferdi 
 nand, had flitted across his mind ; but the words of Estaban so 
 minutely repeated, seemed to banish it entirely; they alluded 
 but to her husband s forbearing tenderness, felt the more in 
 tensely from its being extended by a zealous Catholic to one 
 of a race usually so contemned and hated. In vain he tried 
 to reconcile the seeming inconsistency of her conduct ; his 
 thoughts only became the more confused and painful, till 
 even the remembrance of her self-devotion lost its power to 
 soothe or to allay them. 
 
164 
 
 When Don Felix again visited his prisoner, his counten 
 ance was so expressive of consternation, that Stanley had 
 scarcely power to ask what had occurred. Marie had dis 
 appeared from the castle so strangely and mysteriously, that 
 not a trace or clue could be discovered of her path. Con 
 sternation reigned within the palace ; the King was full of 
 wrath at the insult offered to his power ; the Queen even 
 more grieved than an.^r-y. The guards stationed without 
 the chamber had declared on oath that no one had passed 
 them ; the Senoras Leon and Pas, who slept in the room 
 adjoining, could tell nothing wherewith to explain the mysto- 
 ry. In th > first paroxsym of alarm they had declared the 
 night had passed as usual ; but on cooler reflection they re 
 membered starting from their sleep with the impression of a 
 smothered cry, which having mingled with their dreams, and 
 not being repeated, they had believed mere fancy. And this 
 faint sound was the only sign, the only trace that her de 
 parture was not a voluntary act. 
 
 "Father Francis ! the arm of the church !" gasped Stan 
 ley, as Don Felix paused in his recital, astonished at the 
 effect of his words on the prisoner, whose very respiration 
 seemed impeded. 
 
 " Father Francis has solemnly sworn," he replied, " that 
 neither he nor any of his brethren had connived at an act of 
 such especial disrespect to the sovereign power, and of in 
 justice towards the Queen. Torquemada is still absent, or 
 suspicion night rest on him he is stern enough even for 
 such a deed ; but how could even he have withdrawn her 
 from the castle without discovery ?" 
 
 " Can she not have departed voluntarily ?" inquired Stan 
 ley, with sudden hope. " The cry you mention may indeed 
 have been but fancy. Is it not likely that fear as to her fate 
 may have prompted her to seek safety in flight?" 
 
 " Her Grace thinks not, else some clue as to her path must, 
 ere this, have been discovered. Besides, escape was literally 
 impossible without the aid of magic, which however her ac 
 cursed race know well how to use. The guards must have 
 seen her, had she passed her own threshold in any human 
 form. The casement was untouched, remaining exactly as 
 the Senora Leon secured it with her own hand the preceding 
 evening ; and, even had she thence descended to the ground, 
 
165 
 
 she could have gone no further from the high and guarded 
 walls. It may be magic : if so, and the devil hides himself 
 in so fair a form, the saints preserve us ! for we know not in 
 whom next he will be hid." So spoke, gravely, seriously, 
 undoubtingly, a wise and thoughtful Spanish noble, of the 
 fifteenth century ; and so then thought the whole European 
 wcrld. Stanley scarcely heard the last words ; for in his 
 mind, however sorcery might be synonymous with Judaism, 
 it certainly was not with Marie; and he could only realize 
 the fact of the utter impossibility of a voluntary flight. 
 
 " Had the Queen seen her since her trial ?" he inquired. 
 
 " She had not : a fact which deepens her distress ; for 
 she fancies had Marie been nearer her person, and aware of 
 the full extent of her merciful intentions, this might have 
 been averted. She believes that the smothered cry alluded 
 to was really Donna Marie s ; but, if so, what the dark power 
 is, which has so trampled on the royal prerogative, is plunged 
 in as impenetrable mystery as every thing else, in which 
 Donna Marie has been concerned." 
 
 " Even the same dark power which seeks my destruction, 
 and laid Morales low," replied Stanley, more as if thinking 
 aloud than addressing his companion ; " and when the clue 
 to one mystery is found, the rest will follow. Some fiend 
 from hell is at work around us. Morales is gone. Marie has 
 followed, and I shall be the next ; and then, perhaps, the 
 demon s reign will end, and the saints of heaven triumph." 
 
 "Would to heaven a Jewess had never come amongst 
 us," was the rejoinder ; " there is always evil in their train." 
 And the blood rushed to Arthur s cheek, his hand involun 
 tarily clenched, and his eye glanced defiance towards Don 
 Felix, as if, even at such a moment, insult even in thought 
 towards Marie should not pass unquestioned ; but he re 
 strained himself, and the emotion was unnoticed. 
 
 From that day so engrossed were the thoughts of the 
 prisoner with vain speculations as to the fate of Marie, that 
 the fact of his own position remaining the same, and his 
 hours of life waning fast, seemed actually unheeded. From 
 Don Felix, in various visits, he heard that Marie was no 
 longer publicly spoken of; the excitement occasioned alike 
 by her avowal and disappearance was fast fading from the 
 imagination of the populace. The public jousts and festivals. 
 
166 
 
 intended to celebrate the visit of the sovereigns, but which 
 Morales s death and the events ensuing had so painfully sus 
 pended, were recommencing, arid men nocked to them, as 
 glad to escape from the mourning and mystery which had 
 held sway so long. 
 
 And now only three days intervened ere the expiration 
 of the given month ; and each day did the Sub-Prior of St. 
 Francis pass with the prisoner, exhorting, comforting, and 
 strengthening him for the dread passage through which it 
 was now too evident his soul must pass to eternity. It was 
 with difficulty and pain, that Stanley could even then so 
 cease to think of Marie, as to prepare himself with fitting 
 sobriety and humility for the fate impending ; but the warm 
 sympathy of Father Francis, whose fine feelings had never 
 been blunted by a life of rigid seclusion, won him to listen 
 and to join in his prayers, and, gradually weaning his 
 thoughts from their earthly resting, raised them to that 
 heaven which, if he truly repented of sin, the good father 
 assured him. was fast opening for him. Under the inviolable 
 seal of confession, Arthur acknowledged his deep and long- 
 cherished love for Marie, his dislike to her husband, which 
 naturally followed the discovery of her marriage, and the 
 evil passions thence arising ; but he never wavered in the 
 reiteration of his innocence ; adding, that he reproached no 
 man with his death. The sentence was just according to the 
 appearances against him. Had he himself been amongst his 
 judges, his own sentence would have been the same. Yet 
 still he was innocent ; and Father Francis so believed him 
 that, after pronouncing absolution and blessing, he hastened 
 from the prisoner to the King to implore a yet longer re 
 prieve. But Ferdinand, though more moved by the Prior s 
 recital than he chose to display, remained firm ; he had 
 pledged his kingly word to the chief of the Santa Herman- 
 dad that the award of justice should not be waived without 
 proof of innocence, and he could not draw back One 
 chance only he granted, urged to do so by an irresistible im 
 pulse, which how often comes we know not wherefore, til] 
 the event marks it as the whisper of some guardian angel, 
 who has looked into the futurity concealed from us. The 
 hour of the execution had been originally fixed for the sixth 
 hour of the morning ; it was postponed till noon. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 167 
 
 The morning dawned, and with its first beams came 
 Father Francis to the prisoner. He found him calm and re 
 signed : his last thought of earth was to commend Marie, if 
 ever found, to the holy father s care, conjuring him to deal 
 gently and mercifully with a spirit so broken, and lead her 
 to the sole fountain of peace by kindness, not by wrath ; and 
 to tell her how faithfully he had loved her to the last. Much 
 affected, Father Francis promised aye, even to provect, if 
 possible, an unbeliever. And Stanley once nKre knelt in 
 prayer, every earthly thought at rest. The last quarter-bell 
 had chimed ; and ere it ceased, the step of Don Felix was 
 heard in the passage, followed by the heavy tramp of the 
 guard. The Prior looked eagerly in the noble s countenance 
 as he entered, hoping even then to read reprieve ; but the 
 stern yet sad solemnity on Don Felix s face betrayed the 
 hope was vain. The hour had indeed come, and Arthur 
 Stanley was led forth to death ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "Oh! blissful days, 
 
 When all men worship God as conscience wills ! 
 Far other times our fathers grandsires knew. 
 What tho the skeptic s scorn hath dared to soil 
 The record of their fame ! What tho the men 
 Of worldly minds have dared to stigmatize 
 The sister-cause Religion and the Law 
 With Superstition s name ! Yet, yet their deeds, 
 Their constancy in torture and in death 
 These on Tradition s tongue shall live ; these shall 
 On History s honest page be pictur d bright 
 To latest time." 
 
 GRAHAME. 
 
 RETROSPECTION is not pleasant in a narrative ; but, if Marie 
 has indeed excited any interest in our readers, they will for 
 give the necessity, and look back a few weeks ere they again 
 arrive at the eventful day with which our last chapter closed. 
 All that Don Felix had reported concerning the widow of 
 
168 
 
 Morales was correct. The first stunning effects of her dread 
 avowal were recovered, sense was entirely restored, but the 
 short-lived energy had gone. The trial to passively endure 
 is far more terrible than that which is called upon to act and 
 do. She soon discovered that, though nursed and treated 
 with kindness, she was a prisoner in her own apartments. 
 Wish to leave them she had none, and scarcely the physical 
 strength ; but to sit idly down under the pressure of a double 
 dread the prisoner s fate and her own sentence to have no 
 call for energy, not a being for whom to rouse herself and 
 live, not one for whose sake she might forget herself and win 
 future happiness by present exertion ; the Past, one yearning 
 memory for the husband, who had so soothed and cherished 
 her, when any other would have cast her from his heart as a 
 worthless thing; the Present, fraught with thoughts she 
 dared not think, and words she might not breathe ; the very 
 prayer for Stanley s safety checked for what could he be to 
 her ? the Future shrouded in a pall so dense, she could not 
 read a line of its dark page, for the torch of Hope was extin 
 guished, and it is only by her light we can look forward ; Is 
 abella s affection apparently lost for ever ; was it marvel 
 energy and hope had so departed, or that a deadening des 
 pondency seemed to crush her heart and sap the very springs 
 of life? 
 
 But in the midst of that dense gloom one ray there was, 
 feeble indeed at first as if human suffering had deadened 
 even that, but brightening and strengthening with every 
 passing day. It was the sincerity of her faith the dearer, 
 more precious to its followers, from the scorn and condemna 
 tion, in which it was held by man. 
 
 The fact that the most Catholic kingdom of Spain, was 
 literally peopled with secret Jews, brands this unhappy 
 people, with a degree of hypocrisy, in addition to the various 
 other evil propensities with which they have been so plenti 
 fully charged. Nay, even amongst themselves in modern 
 times, this charge has gained ascendency ; and the romance- 
 writer who would make use of this extraordinary truth, to 
 vividly picture the condition of the Spanish Jews, is accused 
 of vilifying the nation, by reporting practices, opposed to the 
 upright dictates of the religion of the Lord. It is well to 
 pronounce such judgment now. that the liberal position which 
 
. OR, THF MARTYR. 169 
 
 we occupy in most lands, would render it the height of dis 
 simulation, and hypocrisy, to conceal our faith ; but to judge 
 correctly of the secret adherence to Judaism and public pro 
 fession of Catholicism which characterized our ancestors in 
 Spain, we must transport ourselves not only to the country 
 but to the time, and recall the awfully degraded, crushing, 
 and stagnating position which acknowledged Judaism occu 
 pied over the whole known world. As early as GOO as soon, 
 in fact, as the disputes and prosecutions of Arian against 
 Catholic, and Catholic against Arian, had been checked by 
 the whole of Spain being subdued and governed by Catholic 
 kings intolerance began to work against the Jews, who had 
 been settled in vast numbers in Spain since the reign of the 
 Emperor Adrian ; some authorities assert still earlier.* They 
 were, therefore, nearly the original colonists of the country, 
 and regarded it with almost as much attachment as they 
 had felt towards Judea. When persecution began to work, 
 " 90,000 Jews were compelled to receive the sacrament of 
 baptism," the bodies of the more obstinate tortured, and their 
 fortunes confiscated ; and yet a remarkable instance of in 
 consistency they were not permitted to leave Spain ; and 
 this species of persecution continued from GOO downwards. 
 Once or twice edicts of expulsion were issued, but speedily 
 recalled; the tyrants being unwilling to dismiss victims whom 
 they delighted to torture, or deprive themselves of industri 
 ous slaves over whom they might exercise a lucrative oppres 
 sion ;" and a statute was enacted, "that the Jews who had been 
 baptized should be constrained, for the honor of the church, 
 to persevere in the external practice of a religion which they 
 inwardly disbelieved and detested."! 
 
 How, then, can compelled obedience to this statute bo 
 termed hypocrisy ? Persecution, privation, tyranny, may 
 torture and destroy the body, but they cannot force the mind 
 to the adoption of, and belief in tenets, from which the very 
 treatment they commanded must urge it to revolt. Of the 
 
 * Basnage asserts that the Jews were introduced into Spain by the 
 fleet of Solomon, and the arms of Nebuchadnezzar, and that Hadrian 
 transported forty thousand families of the tribe of Judah, and ten 
 thousand of the tribe of Benjamin, etc. 
 
 t "Gibbon s Decline and Fall," vol. 6, chap, xxxvii, from which 
 aU the previous sentences in inverted commas have been extracted. 
 8 
 
170 
 
 90,000 Jews forcibly baptized by order of Sisebut, and con 
 strained to the external profession of Catholicism, not ten, in 
 all probability, became actually Christians. And yet how 
 would it have availed them to relapse into the public profes 
 sion of the faith they so obeyed and loved in secret? To 
 leave the country was utterly impossible. It is easy to talk 
 now of such proceedings being their right course of acting, 
 when every land is open to the departure and entrance ot 
 every creed ; but it was widely different .then, and, even if 
 they could have quitted Spain, there was not a spot of ground, 
 in the whole European and Asiatic world, where persecution, 
 extortion, and banishment would not equally have been their 
 doom. Constant relapses into external as well as internal 
 Judaism there were, but they were but the signal for increas 
 ed misery to the whole nation ; and by degrees they ceased. 
 It was from the forcible baptism of the 90.000 Hebrews, by 
 Sisebut, that we may trace the origin of the secret Jews. 
 From father to son, from mother to daughter, the solemn 
 secret descended, and gradually spread, still in its inviolable 
 nature, through every rank and every profession, from the 
 highest priest to the lowest friar, the general to the common 
 soldier, the noble to the peasant, over the whole land. There 
 were indeed some few in Spain, before the final edict of ex 
 pulsion in 1492, who were Hebrews in external profession as 
 well as internal observance ; but their condition was so de 
 graded, so scorned, so exposed to constant suffering, that it 
 was not in human nature voluntarily to sink down to them, 
 when, by the mere continuance of external Catholicism which 
 from its universality, its long existence, and being in fact a 
 rigidly enforced statute of the state, could not be regarded 
 either as hypocrisy or sin they could take their station 
 amongst the very highest and noblest of the land, and rise 
 to eminence and power in any profession, civil, military, 
 or religious, which they might prefer. The subject is so full 
 of philosophical inquiry, that in the limits of a romance we 
 cannot possibly do it justice ; but to accuse the secret Jews 
 of Spain of hypocrisy, of departing from the pure odinances 
 of their religion, because compelled to simulate Catholicism, 
 is taking indeed but a one-handed, short-sighted view of an 
 extensive and intensely interesting topic. We may often 
 hope for the present by considering the changes of the past ; 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 171 
 
 but to attempt to pronounce judgment on the sentiments of 
 the past by reasoning of the present, when the mind is always 
 advancing, is one of the weakest and idlest fallacies that ever 
 entered the human breast. 
 
 Digression as this is, it is necessary clearly to compre 
 hend the situation in which Marie s avowal of her religion 
 had placed her, and her reason for so carefully wording her 
 information as to the existence of the secret closet, that no 
 suspicion might attach itself to the religion of her husband. 
 Her confession sent a shock, which vibrated not only through 
 Isabella s immediate court, but through every part of Spain. 
 Suspicion once aroused, none knew where it might end, or on 
 whom fall. In her first impulse to save Arthur, she had only 
 thought of what such confession might bring to herself indi 
 vidually, and that was, comparatively, easy to endure; but as 
 the excitement ceased, as the dread truth dawned upon her, 
 that, if he must die at the expiration of the given month, her 
 avowal had been utterly useless, the dread of its consequences, 
 to the numerous secret members of her faith appalled her, and 
 caused the firm resolve under no circumstances to betray the 
 religion of her husband. Him indeed it could not harm ; but 
 that one so high in rank, in influence, in favor with sovereigns 
 and people, was only outwardly a Catholic, might have most 
 fatal consequences on all his brethren. That he should have 
 wedded a Jewess might excite surprise, but nothing more ; 
 and in the midst of her varied sufferings she could rejoice 
 that all suspicion as to his race and faith had been averted. 
 She felt thankful also at being kept so close a prisoner, for 
 she dreaded the wrath of those whom her avowal might have 
 unwittingly injured. Such an instance had never been known 
 before, and she might justly tremble at the chastisement it 
 might bring upon her even from her own people. As long 
 as she was under Isabella s care she was safe from this ; all 
 might feel the vibration, but none dared evince that they did, 
 by the adoption of any measures against her, further than 
 would be taken by the Catholics themselves. 
 
 Knowing this, her sole prayer, her sole effort was to 
 obtain mental strength sufficient under every temptation, 
 either from severity or kindness, to adhere unshrinkingly to 
 the faith of her fathers to cling yet closer to the love of 
 her Father in heaven, and endeavor, with all the lowly trust 
 
1 72 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 and fervid feelings of her nature, to fill the yearning void 
 within her woman s heart with his image, and so subdue 
 every human love. It seemed to her vivid fancy as if all the 
 misfortunes she had encountered sprung from her first sin 
 that of loving a Nazarene. Hers was not the age to make 
 allowances for circumstances in contradistinction to actual 
 deeds. Then.; as unhappily but too often now, all were suffer 
 ings from a misplaced affection sprung, not from her fault, but 
 from the mistaken kindness which it exposed her to without 
 due warning of her danger. Educated with the strong belief, 
 that to love or wed, beyond the pale of her own people was 
 the greatest sin she could commit, short of actual apostacy, 
 that impression, though not strong enough, so to conquer 
 human nature, as to arm against love, returned with double 
 force, as sorrow after sorrow gathered round her, and there 
 were none beside her to whisper and strengthen, with the 
 blessed truth that God afiTicts yet more in mercy than in 
 wrath ; and that his decrees, however fraught with human 
 anguish, are but blessings in disguise blessings, sown indeed 
 with tears on earth, to reap their deathless fruit in heaven. 
 
 But though firmly believing all her suffering was deserv 
 ed, aware that when she first loved Arthur, the rebel-thought 
 Why am I of a race so apart and hated ?" had very fre 
 quently entered her heart, tempting her at times with fearful 
 violence to give up all for love of man j yet Marie knew that 
 the G.od of her fathers was a God of love, calling even upon 
 the greatest sinner to return to him repentant and amend 
 ing, and that even as a little child such should be forgiven. 
 He had indeed proclaimed himself a jealous God, and would 
 have no idol-worship, were it by wood or stone, or, far more 
 dangerous, of human love ; and she prayed unceasingly for 
 strength to return to Him with an undivided heart, even if 
 to do so demanded not only separation from Stanley but a 
 trial in her desolate position almost as severe the loss of 
 Isabella s confidence and love. 
 
 Few words passed between Marie and her guardians j 
 their manner was kind and gentle, but intercourse between 
 rigid Catholics and a proclaimed Jewess, could not be other 
 wise than restrained. From the time that reason returned, 
 the Queen had not visited her, doing actual violence to her 
 own inclinations from the mistaken but in that age and to her 
 character natural dread that the affection and interest she 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 17o 
 
 felt towards Marie personally, would lessen the sentiments of 
 loathing and abhorrence with which it was her duty to regard 
 her faith. Isabella had within herself all the qualifications 
 of a martyr. Once impressed that it was a religious duty, 
 she would do violence to her most cherished wishes, sacrifice 
 her dearest desires, her best affections, resign her most eager 
 ly pursued plans not without suffering indeed, but, accord 
 ing to the mistaken tenets of her religion, the greater per 
 sonal suffering, the more meritorious was the deed believed 
 to be. This spirit would, had she lived in an age when the 
 Catholic faith was the persecuted, not the persecutor, have 
 led her a willing martyr to the stake ; as it was, this same 
 spirit led to the establishment of the Inquisition, and ex 
 pulsion of the Jews deeds so awful in their consequences, 
 that the actual motive of the woman-heart which prompted 
 them is utterly forgotten, and herself condemned. We must 
 indeed deplore the mistaken tenets that could obtain such 
 influence deplore that man could so pervert the service of 
 a God of love, as to believe and inculcate that such things 
 could be acceptable to Him ; but we should pause, and ask, 
 if we ourselves had been influenced by such teaching, could 
 we break from it ? ere we condemn. 
 
 Isabella s own devoted spirit could so enter into the real 
 reason of Marie s self abnegation for Arthur s sake, that it 
 impelled her to love her more ; while at the very same time 
 the knowledge of her being a Jewess, whom she had always 
 been taught and believed must be accursed in the sight of 
 God, and lost eternally unless brought to believe in Jesus, 
 urged her entirely to conquer that affection, lest its indulgence 
 should interfere with her resolution, if kindness failed, by 
 severity to ccomplish her own version. She was too weak in 
 health, and Isabella intuitively felt too terribly anxious as 
 to young Stanley s fate, to attempt any thing till after the 
 expiration of the month ; and she passed that interval in 
 endeavoring to calm down her own feelings towards her. 
 
 So fifteen days elapsed. On the evening of the fifteenth, 
 Marie, feeling unusually exhausted, had sunk down, without 
 disrobing, on her couch, and at length fell into a slumber so 
 deep and calm, that her guardians, fearing to disturb it, and 
 aware that her dress was so loose and light, it could not 
 annoy her, retired softly to their own chamber without 
 arousing her. How many hours this lethargic sleep lasted, 
 
174 THE VALE OF CEDARS , 
 
 Marie knew not, but was at length broken by a dream of 
 terror, and so unusually vivid, that its impression lasted 
 even through the terrible reality which it heralded. She 
 beheld Arthur Stanley on the scaffold about to receive the 
 sentence of the law the block, the axe, the executioner with 
 his arm raised, and apparently already deluged in blood the 
 gaping crowds all the fearful appurtenances of an execution 
 were distinctly traced, and she thought she sprung towards 
 Stanley, who clasped her in his arms, and the executioner, 
 instead of endeavoring to part them, smiled grimly as rejoic 
 ing in having two victims instead of one ; and as he smiled, 
 the countenance seemed to change from being entirely un 
 known to the sneering features of the hated Don Luis Garcia. 
 She seemed to cling yet closer to Stanley, and knelt with 
 him to receive the blow ; when, at that moment, the scaffold 
 shock violently, as by the shock of an earthquake, a dark 
 chashm yawned beneath their feet, in the centre of which 
 stood the spectral figure of her husband, his countenance 
 ghastly and stern, and his arm upraised as beckoning her to 
 join him. And then he spoke ; but his voice sounded unlike 
 his own : 
 
 " Marie Henriquez Morales ! awake, arise, and follow !" 
 And with such extraordinary clearness did the words fall, 
 that she started up in terror, believing they must have been 
 spoken by her side and they were ! they might have min 
 gled with, perhaps even created her dream. She still lay on 
 her couch ; but it seemed to have sunk down through the 
 very floor of the apartment* she had occupied, and at its 
 foot stood a figure, who, with upraised arm held before her a 
 wooden cross. His cowl was closely drawn, and a black robe, 
 of the coarsest serge, was secured round his waist by a hem 
 pen cord. Whether he had indeed spoken the words she had 
 heard in her dream Marie could not tell, for they were not 
 repeated. She saw him approach her, and she felt his strong 
 grasp lift her from the couch, which sprung up, by the touch 
 of some secret spring, to the place whence it had descended 
 and she heard no more. 
 
 * I may be accused in this scene, of too closely imitating a some 
 what similar occurrence in Anne of Geirstein. Such seeming plagiarism 
 was scarcely possible to be avoided, when the superstitious proceed 
 ings of the vekmic tribunal of Germany and the secret Inquisition of 
 Spain are represented by history as so very similar. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " ISABEL. Ha ! little honor to be much believed, 
 And most pernicious purpose seeming, seeming. 
 I will proclaim thee, Angelo ! look for t ; 
 
 Sign me a present pardon 
 
 Or, with an outstretch d throat, I ll tell the world 
 Aloud what man thou art. 
 
 " ANGELO. Who will believe thee 1 
 My unsoil d name, th austereness of my life, 
 My vouch against you, and my place i the State, 
 Will so your accusation overweigh 
 That you will stifle in your own report 
 The smile of Calumny." SHAKSPEi RE. 
 
 WHE.\ Marie recovered consciousness, she found herself in a 
 scene so strange, so terrific, that it appeared as if she must 
 have been borne many miles from Segovia, so utterly impos 
 sible did it seem, that such awful orgies could be enacted 
 within any short distance of the sovereigns palace, or their 
 subjects homes. She stood in the centre of a large vaulted 
 subterranean hall, which, from the numerous arched en 
 trances to divers passages and smaller chambers that opened 
 on every side, appeared to extend far and wide beneath the 
 very bowels of the earth. It was lighted with torches, but so 
 dimly, that the gloom exaggerated the horrors, which the par 
 tial light disclosed. Instruments of torture of any and every 
 ki u( i the rack, the wheel, the screw, the cord, and fire 
 groups of unearthly-looking figures, all clad in the coarse 
 black serge and hempen belt; some with their faces con 
 cealed by hideous masks, and others enveloped in the ccwls, 
 through which only the eyes could be distinguished, the 
 figure of the cross upon the breast, and under that emblem 
 of divine peace, inflicting such horrible tortures on their fel 
 low-men that the pen shrinks from their delineation. Nor 
 was it the mere instruments of torture Marie beheld : she 
 saw them in actual use ; she heard the shrieks and groans of 
 the hapless victims, at times mingled with the brutal leers 
 and jests of their fiendish tormentors; she seemed to take in 
 at one view, every species of torture that could be inflicted, 
 
176 
 
 every pain that could be endured ; and yet, comparatively^ 
 but a few of the actual sufferers were visible. The shrillest 
 sounds of agony came from the gloomy arches, in which no 
 object could be distinguished. 
 
 Whatever suffering meets the sight, it does not so exqui 
 sitely affect the brain as that which reaches it through the 
 ear. At the former the heart may bleed and turn sick ; but 
 at the latter the brain seems, for the moment, wrought into 
 frenzy ; and, even though personally in safety, it is scarcely 
 possible to restrain the same sounds from bursting forth. 
 How then must those shrill sounds of human agony have 
 fallen on the hapless Marie, recognizing as she did with the 
 rapidity of thought, in the awful scene around her, the main 
 hall of that mysterious and terrible tribunal, whose existence 
 from her earliest infancy had been impressed upon her 
 mind, as a double incentive to guard tiie secret of her faith ; 
 that very Inquisition, from which her own grandfather, Ju- 
 lien Henriquez, had fled, and in whicn the less fortunate 
 grandfather of her slaughtered husband, had been tortured 
 and burnt. 
 
 For a second she stood mute and motionless, as turned 
 to stone ; then, pressing both hands tightly on her temples, 
 she sunk down at the feet of her conductor, and sought in 
 words to beseech his mercy ; but her white lips gave vent to 
 no sound save a shriek, so wild that it seemed, for the mo 
 ment, to drown all other sorrows, and startle even the hu 
 man fiends around her. Her conductor himself started back ; 
 but quickly recovering 
 
 " Fool !" he muttered, as he rudely raised her. " I havo 
 no power to aid thee ; come before the Superior we must 
 all obey ask him, implore him, for mercy, not me." 
 
 He bore her roughly to a recess, divided off at the upper 
 end of the hall, by a thick black drapery, in which sat the 
 Grand Inquisitor and his two colleagues. One or two fami 
 liars were behind them, and a secretary sat near a table co 
 vered with black cloth, and on which were several writing 
 implements. All wore masks of black crape, so thick that 
 not a feature could be discerned with sufficient clearness for 
 recognition elsewhere ; yet, one glance on the stern, motion 
 less figure, designated as the Grand Inquisitor, sufficed to 
 bid every drop of blood recede from the prisoner s heart with 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 177 
 
 human terror, at the very same moment that it endowed the 
 woman with such supernatural fortitude that her very form 
 seemed to dilate, and her large eye and lovely mouth ex 
 pressed if it could be, in such a scene and such an hour 
 unutterable scorn. Antipathy, even as love, will pierce dis 
 guise ; and that one glance, lit up with almost bewildering 
 light, in the prisoner s mind, link after link of what had be 
 fore been impenetrable mystery. Her husband s discovery 
 of her former love for Arthur ; his murder ; the suspicion 
 thrown on Stanley; her own summons as witness against 
 him ; her present danger ; all, all were traced to one indivi 
 dual, one still working and most guilty passion, which she, 
 in her gentle purity and holy strength, had scorned. She 
 could not be deceived the mystery that surrounded him 
 was solved antipathy explained ; and Marie s earthly fate 
 lay in Don Luis Garcia s hands ! The Grand Inquisitor 
 read in that glance that he was known ; and for a brief mi 
 nute a strange, an incomprehensible sensation, thrilled 
 through him. It could scarcely have been fear, when one 
 gesture of his hand would destine that frail being to torture, 
 imprisonment, and death ; and yet never before in his whole 
 life of wickedness, had he experienced such a feeling as he 
 did at that moment beneath a woman s holy gaze. Anger at 
 himself for the sensation, momentary as it was, increased the 
 virulence of other passions ; but then was not the hour for 
 their betrayal. In low, deep tones, he commenced the mock 
 ery of a trial. That her avowal of her faith would elude 
 torture, by at once condemning her to the flames, was disre 
 garded. She was formally accused of blasphemy and he 
 resy, and threatened with the severest vengeance of the 
 church which she had reviled ; but that this case of per 
 sonal guilt would be mercifully laid aside for the present, 
 for still more important considerations. Was her late hus 
 band, they demanded, of the same blaspheming creed as her 
 self? And a list of names, comprising some of the highest 
 families of Spain, was read out and laid before her, with the 
 stern command to affix a mark against all who, like herself, 
 had relapsed into the foul heresy of their ancestors to dc 
 this, or the torture should wring it from her. 
 
 But the weakness of humanity had passed ; and so calm 
 so collected, so firm, was the prisoner s resolute refusal tc 
 
178 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 answer either question, that the familiar to whom she had 
 clung for mercy looked at her with wonder. Again and 
 again she was questioned ; instruments of torture were 
 brought before her one of the first and slightest used 
 more to terrify than actually to torture, for that was not yet 
 the Grand Inquisitor s design ; and still she was firm, calm, 
 unalterable in her resolution to refuse reply. And then Don 
 Luis spoke of mercy, which was to consist of imprisonment 
 in solitude and darkness, to allow time for reflection on her 
 final answer a concession, he said, in a tone far more terri 
 fying to Marie than even the horrors around her, only grant 
 ed in consideration of her age and sex. None opposed tho 
 sentence ; and she was conducted to a close and narrow cell, 
 in which no light could penetrate save through a narrow 
 chink in the roof. 
 
 How many days and nights thus passed the hapless pri 
 soner could not have told, for there was nothing to mark the 
 hours. Her food was delivered to her by means of a turn- 
 screw in the wall, so that not even the sight of a fellow- 
 creature could disturb her solitude, or give her the faintest 
 hope of exciting human pity. Her sole hope, her sole re 
 fuge was in prayer ; and, oh ! how blessed was the calm, the 
 confidence it gave. 
 
 So scanty was her allowance of food, that more than once 
 the thought crossed her, whether or not, death by famine 
 would be her allotted doom ; and human nature shuddered, 
 but the spirit did not quail ! Hour after hour passed, she 
 knew not whether it was night or day, when the gloom of 
 her dungeon was suddenly illumined ; she knew not at first 
 how or whence, so noiseless was the entrance of the intru 
 der, but gradually she traced the light to a small lamp held 
 m the hand of a shrouded individual, whom she recognized 
 at once. There was one fearful thrill of mortal dread, one 
 roiceless cry for strength from Heaven, and Marie Morales 
 stood before Don Luis erect and calm, and firm as in her 
 hour of pride. 
 
 Garcia now attempted no concealment. His mask had 
 been cast aside, and his features gleamed without any effort 
 at hypocritical restraint, in all the unholy passions of his 
 soul. We will not pollute our pages with transcribing the 
 fearful words of passions contending in their nature, yet 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 179 
 
 united in their object, with which the pure ear of his pris 
 oner was first assailed still lingering desire, yet hate, wrath, 
 fury, that she should dare still oppose, and scorn, and loathe 
 him ; rage with himself, that, strive as he might, even he was 
 baffled by the angel purity around her ; longing to wreak 
 upon her every torture that his hellish office gave him un 
 checked power 1p inflict, yet fearing that, if he did so, death 
 would release her ere his object was attained ; all strove and 
 raged within him, making his bosom a very hell, from which 
 there was no retracting, yet whose very flames incited deeper 
 fury towards the being whom he believed their cause. 
 
 " And solitude, darkness, privation have they so little 
 availed that thou wilt tempt far fiercer sufferings ?" he at 
 length demanded, struggling to veil his fury in a quiet, con 
 centrated tone. " Thou hast but neared the threshold of the 
 tortures which one look, one gesture of my hand, can gather 
 around thee ; tortures which the strongest sinew, the firmest 
 mind, have been unable to sustain how will that weakened 
 frame endure ?" 
 
 " It can but die," replied the prisoner, " as nobler and 
 better ones have done before me !" 
 
 "Die !" repeated Garcia, and he laughed mockingly. 
 " Thinkest thou we know our trade so little that such release 
 can baffle us ? I tell thee, pain of itself has never yet had 
 power to kill ; and we have learned the measure of endu 
 rance in the human form so well, that we have never yet 
 been checked by death, ere our ends were gained. And 
 so will it be with thee, boldly as now thou speakest. Thou 
 hast but tasted pain !" 
 
 " Better the sharpest torture than thy hated presence," 
 calmly rejoined Marie. " My soul thou canst not touch." 
 
 . " Soul ! Has a Jewess a soul ? Nay, by my faith, thou 
 talkest bravely ! An thou hast, thou hadst best be mine, 
 and so share my salvation ; there s none for such as thee." 
 
 " Man !" burst indignantly from the prisoner. " Share 
 thy salvation ! Great God of Israel ! that men like these 
 have power to persecute thy children for their faith, and do 
 it in thy name ! And speak of mercy ! Thou hast but 
 given me another incentive for endurance," she continued, 
 more calmly addressing her tormentor. " If salvation be 
 
180 
 
 denied to us, and granted thee, I would refuse it with nij 
 dying breath ; such faith is not of God !" 
 
 " I came not hither to enter on such idle quibbles," was 
 the rejoinder. " It matters not to me what thou art after 
 death, but before it mine thou shalt be. "What hinders me, 
 at this very moment, from working my will upon thee ? Who 
 will hear thy cry ? or, hearing, will approach thee ? These 
 walls have heard too many sounds of human agony to bear 
 thy voice to those who could have mercy. Tempt me not 
 by thy scorn too far. What holds me from thee now ?" 
 
 " What holds thee from me ? GOD !" replied the pris 
 oner, in a tone of such thrilling, such supernatural energy, 
 that Garcia actually started as if some other voice than hers 
 had spoken, and she saw him glance fearfully round. " Thou 
 darest not touch me ! Ay, villain blackest and basest as 
 thou art thou darest not do it. The God thine acts, yet 
 more than thy words blaspheme, withholds thee and thou 
 knowest it !" 
 
 " I defy him !" were the awful words that answered her; 
 and Don Luis sprang forwards. 
 
 " Back !" exclaimed the heroic girl. Advance one step 
 nearer, and thy vengeance, even as thy passion, will alike be 
 foiled and may God forgive the deed I do." 
 
 She shook down the beautiful tresses of her long luxu 
 riant hair, and, parting them with both hands around her 
 delicate throat, stood calmly waiting in Don Luis s move 
 ments the signal for her own destruction. 
 
 ^ " Fool !" he muttered, as involuntarily he fell back, awed 
 in spite of his every effort to the contrary at a firmness 
 as unexpected as it was unwavering. " Fool ! Thou knowest 
 not the power it is thy idle pleasure to defy ; thou wilt learn 
 it all too soon, and then in vain regret thy scorn of my 
 proffer now. Thou hast added tenfold to my wild yearning 
 for revenge on thy former scorn tenfold ! ay, twice tenfold, 
 to thy own tortures. Yet, once more, I bid thee pause and 
 choose. Fools there are, who dare all personal physical tor 
 ment, and yet shrink and quail before the thought of death for 
 a beloved one. Idiots, who for others, sacrifice themselves ; 
 perchance thou wilt be one of them. Listen, and tremble ; 
 or, sacrifice, and save ! When in thy haughty pride ? and 
 zenith of thy power, thou didst scorn me. and bidding me ? with 
 
OR, 
 
 181 
 
 galling contempt, go from thy presence as if I were a loath 
 some reptile, unworthy even of thy tread, I bade thee beware, 
 and to myself swore vengeance. And knowest thou how that 
 was accomplished? Who led thy doting husband where 
 he might hear thine own lips proclaim thy falsity ? Who 
 poisoned the chalice of life, which had bevm so sweet, ere it 
 was dashed from his lips by death ? Who commanded the 
 murderer s blow, and the weapon with which it was accom 
 plished ? Who laid the charge of his murder on the foreign 
 minion, and brought thee in evidence against him ? Who 
 
 "but I even I ! And if I have done all this, thinkest thou 
 
 to elude my further vengeance ? I tell thee, if thou refuse 
 the grace I proffer, Arthur Stanley dies ; accept it, and he 
 lives !" 
 
 " And not at such a price would Arthur Stanley wish to 
 live," replied Marie calmly. He would spurn existence 
 purchased thus." 
 
 " Ay, perchance, if he knew it ; but be it as thou wilt, he 
 shall know thou couldst have saved him and refused." 
 
 " And thinkest thou he will believe thee ? As little as I 
 believed him my husband s murderer. How little knowest 
 thou the trust of love ! He will not die," she continued em 
 phatically; "his innocence shall save him thy crime be 
 known." 
 
 Ay !" replied Garcia, with a sneering laugh. " Give 
 thyself wings as a bird, and still stone walls will encircle 
 thee ; dwindle into thin air, and gain the outer world, and 
 tell thy tale, and charge Don Luis Garcia with the deed, and 
 who will believe thee ? Thinkest thou I would have boasted 
 of my triumphant vengeance to aught who could betray me ? 
 Why my very tool, the willing minister of my vengeance 
 who slew Morales merely because I bade him might not 
 live, lest he should be tempted to betray me ; I slew him 
 with my own hand. What sayest thou now shall Stanley 
 live, if I say Let him die ?" 
 
 There was no reply, but he looked in vain for any dimi 
 nution in the undaunted resolution which still sustained her. 
 " I go," he continued, after a pause. " Yet, once more, I 
 charge thee choose ; accept the terms I proffer be mine 
 and thou art saved from all further torture thyself, and Stan 
 ley lives. Refuse, and the English minion dies ; and when 
 
182 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 thou and I next meet, it will be where torture and execu 
 tioners wait but my nod to inflict such suffering that thou 
 wilt die a thousand deaths in every pang. And, Jewess 
 unbeliever as thou art who will dare believe it more than 
 public justice, or accuse me of other than the zeal, which the 
 service of Christ demands? Choose, and quickly wilt 
 thou accept my proffers, and be mine ? Thou must, at last. 
 What avails this idle folly of tempting torture first ?" 
 
 " Thou mayest kill my body, but thou canst not pollute 
 my soul," was the instant reply, and its tones were un 
 changed. And as for Stanley, his life or death is not in 
 thine hands ; but if it were, I could not nay, thus I would 
 not save him. I reject thy proffers, as I scorn thyself. 
 Now leave me I have chosen !" 
 
 ^ Don Luis did not reply, but Marie beheld his cheek grow 
 livid, and the foam actually gather on his lip ; but the calm 
 and holy gaze she had fixed upon him, as he spoke, quailed 
 not, nor changed. The invisible door of her cell closed with 
 a deep, sullen sound, as if her tormentor had thus, in some 
 measure, given vent to the unutterable fury shaking his soul 
 to its centre ; and Marie was alone. She stood for many, 
 many minutes, in the fearful dread of his return ; and then 
 she raised her hand to her brow, and her lip blanched and 
 quivered, and, with a long, gasping breath, she sunk down 
 upon the cold floor all the heroine lost in an agonized burst 
 of tears. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Hovers the steel above his head, 
 Suspended by a spider thread : 
 On, on ! a life hangs on thy speed ; 
 With lightning wing the gallant steed ! 
 Buoy the full heart up ! It will sink 
 If it but pause to feel and think. 
 There is no time to dread his fate : 
 No thought but one too late, too late !" 
 
 MS. 
 
 Too soon did Marie realize the power of Don Luis to exer 
 ise his threatened vengeance ! Two days after that terri- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 183 
 
 ble interview, she was again dragged to the hall of judg 
 ment : the same questions were proposed as before, whether 
 or not she would denounce the secret followers of her own 
 creed, and confess her late husband s real belief; and the 
 same firm answers given. We shrink in loathing from the 
 delineation of horrible tortures applied to that frail and gen 
 tle being shrink, for we know that such things actually have 
 been ; and women young, lovely, inoffensive as Marie Mo 
 rales have endured the same exquisite agony for the same 
 iniquitous purpose ! In public, charged to denounce inno 
 cent fellow-beings, or suffer ; in private in those dark and 
 fearful cells exposed to all the horror and terror of such 
 persecution as we have faintly endeavored to describe. It is 
 no picture of the imagination, delighting to dwell on horrors. 
 Would that it were ! Its parallel will be found, again and 
 again repeated, in the annals not of the Inquisition alone 
 but of every European state where the Romanists held 
 sway. 
 
 But Marie s prayer for superhuman strength had been 
 heard. No cry, scarcely a groan, escaped her. She saw Don 
 Luis at her side ; she heard his hissing whisper that there 
 was yet time to retract and be released j but she deigned 
 him no reply whatever. It was not his purpose to try her 
 endurance to the utmost in the first, second, or third trial ; 
 though, so enraged at her calmness, as scarcely to be able to 
 restrain it even before his colleagues, and with difficulty con 
 trolling his fiendish desire to increase the torture to its ut 
 most at once, he remanded her to her dungeon till his fur 
 ther pleasure should be known. She had fainted under the 
 intolerable pain, and lay for many successive hours, too ex 
 hausted even to raise to her parched lips the pitcher of water 
 lying near her. And even the gradual cessation of suffering, 
 the sensation of returning power, brought with them the 
 agonized thought, that they did but herald increased and 
 increasing torture. 
 
 One night she knew not how long after she had been 
 remanded to her cell, but, counting by suffering, it felt many 
 weary nights and days she sunk into a sleep or trance, 
 which transported her to her early home in the Yale of Ce 
 dars. Her mother seemed again to stand before her ; and 
 she thought, as she heard her caressing voice, and met the 
 
184 THE VALE OF CEDAKfe j 
 
 glance of her dove-like eyes, she laid her head oil her bosom, 
 as she was wont to do in her happy childhood 5 and peace 
 seemed to sink into her heart so blessedly, so deeply, that the 
 very fever of her frame departed. A voice aroused her with 
 a start ; it was so like her mother s, that the dream seemed 
 lingering still. 
 
 " Marie, my beloved one," murmured the voice, and a 
 breath fanned her cheek, as if some one were leaking over 
 her. She unclosed her eyes the words, the voice, still so 
 kept up the illusion, though the tones were deeper than a 
 woman s, that even the hated dress of a familiar of the Inqui 
 sition could not create alarm. " Hast thou forgotten me, 
 my child ? But it matters not now. Say only thou wilt 
 trust me, and safety lies before us. The fiends hold not their 
 hellish court to-night; and the arch-fiend himself is far dis 
 tant, on a sudden summons from the King, which, though 
 the grand Inquisitor might scorn, Don Luis will obey. Wilt 
 come with me, my child ?" 
 
 " Ay, any where ! That voice could not deceive : but tis 
 all vain," she continued, the first accents of awakened hope 
 lost in despondency "I cannot rise." 
 
 " It needs not. Do thou hold the lantern, Marie ; utter 
 not a word check even thy breath and the God of thy 
 fathers shall save thee yet." 
 
 He raised her gently in his arms ; and the hope of liber 
 ty, of rescue from Don Luis, gave her strength to grasp the 
 light to guide them. She could not trace their way, but she 
 felt they left the dungeon, and traversed many long, damp, 
 and narrow passages, seemingly excavated in the solid earth. 
 All was silent, and dark as the tomb ; now and then her 
 guide paused, as if to listen ; but there was no sound. He 
 knew well the secret paths he trod. 
 
 The rapid motion, even the sudden change, almost de 
 prived Marie of consciousness. She was only sensible, by a 
 sudden change from the close, damp, passages to the free 
 breezes of night, that she was in the open air, and apparently 
 a much freer path ; that still her guide pressed swiftly on 
 wards, apparently scarcely feeling her light weight ; that, 
 after a lengthened interval, she was laid tenderly on a soft, 
 luxurious couch at least, so it seemed, compared with the 
 cold floor of her cell ; that the blessed words of thanksgiving 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 185 
 
 that she was safe broke from that strangely faivihar voice ; 
 and she asked no more seemed even to wish DO more so 
 completely was all physical power prostrated. Sh lay calm 
 and still, conscious only that she was saved. Her guide him 
 self for some time disturbed her not ; but after changing his 
 dress, and preparing a draught of cooling herbs, he knrtt 
 down, raised her head on his knee with almost woman s t* 
 derness, and, holding the draught to her lips, said, gently- 
 " Drink, beloved child of my sainted sister ; there is hi 
 and health in the draught." 
 
 Hastily swallowing it, Marie gazed wildly in his face. 
 The habiliments of the familiar had been changed for those 
 of a Benedictine monk ; his cowl thrown back, and the now 
 well remembered countenance of her uncle Julien was beam 
 ing over her. In an instant, the arm she could still use was 
 thrown round him, and her head buried in his bosom ; every 
 pulse throbbing with the inexpressible joy of finding, when 
 most desolate, one relative to love and save her still. Julien 
 left not his work of healing and of security incomplete ; 
 gradually he decreased, by the constant application of linen 
 bathed in some cooling fluid, the scorching fire which ^ still 
 seemed to burn within the maimed and shrivelled limb; 
 parted the thick masses of dishevelled hair from her burn 
 ing temples, and bathed them with some cooling and reviving 
 essence ; gently removed the sable robes, and replaced them 
 with the dress of a young novice which he had provided ; 
 concealed her hair beneath the white linen hood, and then, 
 administering a potion which he knew would produce deep 
 and refreshing sleep, and so effectually calm the fevered 
 nerves, she sunk down on the soft moss and heath which 
 formed her couch, and slept calmly and sweetly as an infant 
 for many hours. 
 
 Julien Morales had entered Segovia in his monkish garb, 
 as was frequently his custom, on the evening of the trial. 
 The excitement of the whole city naturally called forth his 
 queries as to its cause ; and the information imparted the 
 murder of Don Ferdinand, and incomprehensible avowal of 
 Judaism on the part of his niece demanded a powerful 
 exercise of self-control to prevent, by a betrayal of unusual 
 grief and horror, his near relationship to both parties. ^ Ho 
 vering about the palace, he heard of Isabella s merciful inten- 
 
186 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 tions towards Marie ; and feeling that his presence might 
 only agitate, and could in nothing avail her, he had resolved 
 on leaving the city without seeing her, when her mysterious 
 disappearance excited all Segovia anew. 
 
 Julien Morales alone, perhaps, amidst hundreds, in his 
 own mind solved the mystery at once. Well did he know 
 the existence of the secret Inquisition. As we narrated in 
 one of our early chapters, the fate of his father had so fixed 
 itself upon his mind, that he had bound himself by a secret, 
 though solemn oath, as his avenger. To accomplish this 
 fully, he had actually spent ten years of his life as familiar 
 in the Inquisition. The fate of Don Luis s predecessor had 
 been plunged in the deepest mystery. Some whispered his 
 death was by a subtle poison ; others, that his murderer had 
 sought him in the dead of night, and, instead of treacherous 
 ly dealing the blow, had awakened him, and bade him con 
 fess his crimes one especially ; and acknowledge that if the 
 mandate of the Eternal, " Whoso sheddeth man s blood, by 
 man shall his blood be shed," were still to govern man, his 
 death was but an act of justice which might not be eluded. 
 Whether these whispered rumors had to do with Julien 
 Morales or not, we leave to the judgment of our readers. 
 Suffice it, that not only was his vow accomplished, but, during 
 his ten years residence in these subterranean halls, he natu 
 rally became familiarized with all their secret passages and 
 invisible means of egress and ingress not only to the appa 
 rently private homes of unoffensive citizens, but into the 
 wild tracts of country scattered round. By one of these he 
 had, in fact, effected his own escape ; and in the mild and 
 benevolent Benedictine monk known alike to the cities and 
 solitudes of Spain none would have recognized the former 
 familiar of the Inquisition, and still less have imagined him 
 the being which in reality he was a faithful and believing 
 Jew. 
 
 To him, then, it was easy to connect the disappearance of 
 Marie with the existence of the Holy Office, even though he 
 was entirely ignorant of Garcia s ulterior designs. In an 
 agony of apprehension, he resolved on saving her if possi 
 ble, even while he trembled at the delay which must neces 
 sarily ensue ere he could arrange and execute his plans, more 
 especially as it was dangerous to associate a second person 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 187 
 
 in their accomplishment. With all his haste and skill he 
 was not in time to save her from the barbarity of her mis 
 named judges. His very soul was wrung, as he stood 
 amongst the familiars a silent witness of her sufferings ; but 
 to interfere was impossible. One thing, however, was favor 
 able. He knew she would not be again disturbed till a suf 
 ficient time had elapsed for the recovery of such strength as 
 would enable her to endure further torture ; and he had, 
 therefore, some time before him for their flight. 
 
 Her voluntary avowal of her faith aware too, as she 
 was, of the existence of the Inquisition had, indeed, per 
 plexed the good uncle greatly ; but she was in no state, even 
 when partially recovered from physical weakness, to enter 
 into explanation then. He saw she was unhappy, and the 
 loss of her husband might well account for it. To the 
 rumors which had reached him in Segovia, as to the suppo 
 sitions of the real cause of Stanley s enmity to Morales, and 
 Marie s self-sacrifice, he would not even listen, so completely 
 without foundation did they seem to him. 
 
 The second evening after their escape, they left the cave 
 to pursue their journey. Father Ambrose for so, now he 
 has resumed his monkish garb, we must term Julien had 
 provided a mule for the novice s use ; and thus they leisure 
 ly traversed the desolate and mountainous tract forming the 
 boundaries of the provinces now termed old and new Castile. 
 Neither uncle nor niece spoke of their destined^goal ; Marie 
 intuitively felt she was proceeding to the Vale of Cedars, 
 the only place of safety now for her ; but, so engrossed was 
 her mind with the vain thought how to save Arthur, that for 
 herself she could not frame a wish. 
 
 The second evening of their journey they entered a 
 small, straggling village, so completely buried in mountains 
 that its existence was unknown save to its own rustic inhab 
 itants. The appearance of a monk evidently caused an 
 unusual excitement, which was speedily explained. The 
 chief of the villagers approached Father Ambrose, and, 
 addressing him with the greatest respect, entreated him to 
 follow him to his house, where, he said, lay a man at the 
 point of death, who had, from the time he became aware of 
 his dangerous position, incessantly called for a priest to 
 shrive him from some deadly sin. He had been found, the 
 
188 
 
 villager continued, in a deep pit sunk in a solitary glen half 
 way to Segovia, with every appearance of attempted murder, 
 which, being supposed complete, the assassins had thrown 
 him into the pit to conceal their deed ; but chancing to hear 
 his groans as he passed, he had rescued him, and hoped to 
 have cured his wounds. For three weeks they seemed to 
 progress favorably, but then fever occurring, he thought, 
 from great restlessness of mind had rapidly increased, and, 
 after ten days of fearful struggle between life and death 
 mortification had ensued, and hope could exist no longer 
 At first, Perez added, he seemed to shrink from the idea ot 
 priestly aid, only harping on one theme to get strength 
 enough to reach Segovia, and speak to the King. They haft 
 thought him mad, but humored him ; but now he wa 
 almost furious in his wild cries for a priest, not only te 
 shrive him, but to bear his message to the King. They ha^ 
 tried to gratify him, but their distance from any town 01 
 monastery had prevented it ; and they now, therefore, hailed 
 Father Ambrose almost as sent from heaven to save a sinnei 
 by absolution ere he died. 
 
 This tale was told as the monk and novice hastened with 
 Perez to his house. The poor inhabitants thronged his path 
 to crave a blessing, and proffer every attention their simple 
 means afforded. Fearing for Marie, Julien s only care was 
 for the supposed novice ; and therefore Perez, at his request, 
 eagerly led her to a large comfortable chamber, far removed 
 from the bustle of the house, and left her to repose. But 
 repose was not at that moment possible, even though her 
 slightly returning strength was exhausted, from the fatigue 
 of a long day s travel. Fruit and cakes were before her ; 
 but, though her mouth was parched and dry, she turned from 
 them in loathing ; and interminable seemed the space till 
 Father Ambrose returned. Ere he spoke, he carefully closed 
 and secured the door, and exclaimed, in a low, cautious tone, 
 " My child, this is indeed the finger of a righteous God 
 blessed be His name ! The unhappy man to whose dying 
 bed they brought me " 
 
 " Is the murderer of my husband !" interposed Marie in 
 a tone of almost unnatural calmness. " I knew it from the 
 first moment Perez spoke. We have but to think of one 
 thing now Stanley is innocent, and must be saved !" 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 189 
 
 " And shall be, if possible, my child ; but there are fear 
 ful difficulties in the way. The unhappy man conjures me 
 not to leave him, and is in such a horrible state of mental 
 and bodily agony that I fear if I do, he will commit some 
 act of violence on himself, and so render his evidence of no 
 avail. We are not much above sixty miles from Segovia, but 
 the roads are cross and rugged ; so that it will need steadi 
 ness and speed, and instant audience with the King." 
 
 " But time have we time ?" reiterated Marie. " Say but 
 there is time, and every other difficulty shall be smoothed." 
 
 " There is full time : the execution is not till the second 
 day after to-morrow. Nay, my child," he added, observing 
 her look of doubting bewilderment, " suffering makes the 
 hours seem longer than they are. Fear not for time, but 
 counsel me whom to send. Who amongst these poor ig 
 norant rustics will ever reach the King or, failing him, the 
 Chief Hermano and make his tale so sufficiently clear as to 
 release the prisoner, and send messengers here with the ne 
 cessary speed to take down this man s confession ? He can 
 not linger two days more. Would that I could go myself ; 
 but I can leave neither him nor thee." 
 
 " And it needs not," was the firm reply. " Father, I my 
 self will do thy errand. There must be no delay, no chance 
 of hesitation in its accomplishment. Ah ! do not look upon 
 me as if my words were wild and vain ; were there other 
 means I would not speak them but he must be saved ! 
 
 " And again at the sacrifice of thy safety perchance thy 
 life ! Marie, Marie ! what hold has this young stranger 
 upon thee that thou shouldest twice so peril thyself? Thy 
 life is dearer to me than his I cannot grant thy boon." 
 
 " Nay, but thou must. Listen to me, my second father ! 
 If Stanley dies, his blood is on my head !" And struggling 
 with strong emotion, she poured forth her whole tale. 
 
 "And thou lovest him still him, a Nazarene thou, 
 child, wife, of an unstained race ! And is it for this, thy 
 zeal to save him ?" ejaculated Julien, retreating several paces 
 from her "Can it be?" 
 
 " I would save him because he is innocent because he 
 has borne more than enough for me ; for aught else, thou 
 wrongest me, father. He will never be to me more than he 
 is now." 
 
190 THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 It was impossible to resist the tone of mournful reproach 
 in which those simple words were said. Julien pressed her 
 to his bosom, bade God bless her, and promised, if indeed 
 there were no other means, her plan should be adopted ; ob 
 jection after objection, indeed, he brought forward, but all 
 were overruled. She pledged herself to retain her disguise, 
 and to return with Perez, without hesitation, and accompany 
 her uncle to the vale, as intended. But that she should 
 start at once, he positively refused. How could she Lope to 
 accomplish her journey without, at least, two hours repose ? 
 It was then late in the evening. At six the next morning 
 all should be ready for her journey, and thei would be still 
 more than twenty-four hours before her ; Marie tried to be 
 content, but the horrible dread of being too late did not 
 leave her for a moment, even in sleep, and inexpressibly 
 thankful was she when the morning dawned. . Julien s 
 provident care had been active while she slept. Perez, nat 
 tered at the trust reposed in him, had offered himself to ac 
 company the young novice to Segovia : and at the appointed 
 hour he was ready, mounted himself, and leading a strong, 
 docile palfrey for brother Ernest s use. He knew an hos- 
 tellerie, he said, about twenty miles from the city, where their 
 steeds could be changed ; and promised by two hours after 
 noon, the very latest, the novice should be with the King. 
 It could be done in less time, he said ; but his reverence had 
 told him the poor boy was unusually delicate, and had, more 
 over, lost the use of his left arm ; and he thought, as there 
 was so much time before them, it was needless to exhaust his 
 strength before his errand was done. Julien expressed his 
 entire satisfaction, gave them his blessing, and they were 
 rapidly out of sight. 
 
 Once or twice they halted to give their horses rest and 
 refresh themselves ; but so absorbed were the senses of 
 Marie, that she was unconscious of fatigue. Every mile 
 they traversed seemed bearing a heavy load from her chest, 
 and enabling her to breathe more freely ; while the fresh 
 breeze and exciting exercise seemed actually to revive her. 
 It wanted rather more than an hour for noon when they 
 reached the hostellerie mentioned by Perez. Two fleet and 
 beautiful horses were speedily provided for them, bread and 
 fruit partaken, and Perez, ready mounted, was tasting the 
 stirrup cup, when his friend demanded 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 191 
 
 " Is it to Segovia ye are bound ?" 
 
 " Yes, man, on an important errand, charged by his rev 
 erence Father Ambrose himself." 
 
 " His reverence should have sent you two hours earlier, 
 arid you would have been in time for one of the finest sights 
 seen since Isabella God bless her ! begun to reign. They 
 were common enough a few years back." 
 
 " What sight ? and why am I not in time ?" 
 
 " Now, art thou not the veriest rustic to be so entirely 
 ignorant of the world s doings ? Why, to-day is the solemn 
 execution of the young foreigner whom they believe uc have 
 murdered Don Ferdinand Morales the saints preserve 
 him ! He is so brave a fellow, they say, that had it not been 
 for this confounded hostellerie I would have made an effort 
 to be present : I love to see how a brave man meets death. 
 It was to have been two hours after day-break this morning, 
 but Juan here tells me it was postponed till noon. The 
 King" 
 
 He was proceeding, when he was startled by a sharp cry, 
 and Perez, hastily turning, caught the novice as he was in 
 the act of falling from his horse. In an instant, however, 
 he recovered, and exclaiming, in a thrilling tone of excite 
 ment 
 
 " Father Ambrose said life or death hung upon our speed 
 and promptness ; he knew not the short interval allowed us. 
 This young foreigner is innocent the real murderer is dis 
 covered. On , on, for mercy, or we shall be too late ?" 
 gavt his horse the rein, and the animal started off at full 
 speed. Perez was at his side in an instant, leaving his friend 
 open-mouthed with astonishment, and retailing the marvel 
 lous news into twenty different quarters in as many seconds. 
 
 Not a word was spoken ; not a moment did the fiery 
 chargers halt in their headlong way. On, on they went ; 
 on, over wide moors and craggy steeps 5 on, through the 
 rushing torrent and the precipitous glen ; on, through the 
 forest and the plain, with the same unwavering pace. Re 
 peatedly did Marie s brain reel, and her heart grow sick, and 
 her limbs lose all power either to guide or feel ; but she 
 neither spoke nor flagged convulsively she grasped the 
 reins, and closed her eyes, as the voice and hand of her com 
 panion urged their steeds swifter and vet swifter on. 
 
192 
 
 An exclamation from Perez roused her. The turrets 
 of Segovia were visible in the distance, glittering in the 
 brilliant sun ; but her blood-shot eye turned with sickening 
 earnestness more towards the latter object than the former. 
 It had not yet attained its full meridian a quarter of an 
 hour, perhaps twenty minutes, was still before them. But 
 the strength of their horses was nagging, foam covered their 
 glossy hides, their nostrils were distended, they breathed 
 hard, and frequently snorted the short, quick, sound of 
 coming powerlessness. Their steady pace wavered, their 
 heads drooped ; but, still urged on by Perez s encouraging 
 voice, they exerted themselves to the utmost at times dart 
 ing several paces suddenly forward, then stumbling heavily 
 on. The cold dew stood on Marie s brow, and every pulse 
 seemed stilled. They passed the outer gates they stood 
 on the brow of a hill commanding a view of the whole city. 
 The castle seemed but a stone s throw from them ; but the 
 sound of muffled drums and other martial instruments were 
 borne towards them on the air. Multitudes were thronging 
 in one direction ; the Calle Soledad seemed one mass of hu 
 man heads, save where the scaffold raised its frightful sign 
 above them. Soldiers were advancing, forming a thin, glit 
 tering line through the crowds. In their centre stood the 
 prisoner. On, again, dashed the chargers scarcely a hun 
 dred yards separated them from the palace-gate. Wildly 
 Marie glanced back once more there were figures on the 
 scaffold. And at that moment borne in the stillness more 
 loudly, more heavily than usual, or, at least, so it seemed tc 
 her tortured senses the huge bell of the castle chimed the 
 hour of noon ! 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 "The outmost crowd have heard a sound, 
 Like horse s hoof on harden d ground ; 
 Nearer it came, and yet more near 
 The very deathsmen pause to hear !" 
 
 Sra WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 IN liis private closet, far removed from the excitement stir 
 ring without. King Ferdinand was sitting, on the morning 
 appointed for Stanley s execution : several maps and plans 
 were before him, over which he appeared intently engaged ; 
 but every now and then his brow rested on his hand, and his 
 eyes wandered from their object ; Isabella was at work in a 
 recess of the window near him, conversing on his warlike 
 plans, and entering warmly into all his measures, as he 
 roused himself to speak of them, or silent when she saw him 
 gunk in thought. The history of the period dwells with 
 admiration on the domestic happiness of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella, and most refreshingly do such annals stand forth 
 amid the rude and stormy scenes, both in public and private 
 life, most usual to that age. Isabella s real influence on the 
 far less lofty and more crafty Ferdinand was so silent, so 
 anobtrusive, that its extent was never known, either to him 
 self or to her people, till after her death, when in Ferdinand s 
 rapid deterioration from the nobler qualities of earlier years, 
 it was traced too clearly, and occasioned her loss to be 
 mourned, yet more than at the moment of her death. 
 
 The hour of noon chimed, and Ferdinand, with unusual 
 emotion, pushed the papers from him. 
 
 " There goes the knell of as brave and true a heart as 
 ever beat," he said. " If he be innocent as I believe him 
 may Heaven forgive his murderer ! Hark ! what is that?" 
 he continued hurriedly, as the last chime ceased to vibrate ; 
 and, striding to the door of his cabinet he flung it open and 
 listened intently. 
 
 " Some one seeks the King ! follow me, Isabel. By St. 
 Francis, we may save him yet !" he exclaimed, and rapidly 
 9 
 
194 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 threading the numerous passages, in less than a minute lie 
 stood within the hall. 
 
 " Who wills speech of Ferdinand ?" he demanded. " Let 
 him step forth at once and do his errand." 
 
 " I seek thee, King of Spain !" was the instant answer, 
 and a young lad in the white garb of a Benedictine novice, 
 staggered forwards. " Arthur Stanley is innocent ! The 
 real murderer is discovered ; he lies at the point of death 
 sixty miles hence. Send take his confession ; but do not 
 wait for that. Fly. or it is too late. I see it the axe is 
 raised is flashing in the sun ; oh, stop it ere it falls !" And 
 with the wild effort to loose the grasp of an old soldier, who 
 more supported than detained him, his exhausted strength 
 gave way, and they laid him, white, stiff, and speechless, on 
 a settle near. 
 
 With his first word, however, Ferdinand had turned to a 
 trusty soldier, and bade him " fly to stop the work of death ;" 
 and the man needed not a second bidding : he darted from 
 the hall, flew through the castle-yard, repeated the words to 
 the first individual he met, by whom it was repeated to 
 another, and by him again on and on till it reached the 
 crowds around the scaffold ; where it spread like wild-fire 
 from mouth to mouth, reaching the ear of Don Felix, even 
 before his eye caught the rapidly advancing soldier, whom 
 he recognized at once as one of his Sovereign s private 
 guards ; impelling him, with an almost instinctive movement, 
 to catch the upraised arm of the executioner at the very 
 instant he was about to strike. 
 
 " Wherefore this delay, Don Felix ? it is but a cruel 
 mercy," sternly inquired the Chief Hermano, whose office 
 had led him also to the scaffold. 
 
 " Behold, and listen : praised be the holy saints, he is 
 saved !" was the rapid reply, as the voice of the soldier close 
 by the foot of the scaffold, was distinguished bidding them 
 " Hold ! hold ! the King commands it. He is innocent ; the 
 real murderer is discovered !" and then followed a shout, so 
 loud, so exulting, that it seemed to have burst from those 
 assembled hundreds at the same instant. The prisoner 
 heard it, indeed ; but to his bewildered senses taking the 
 place as it did of the expected blow it was so utterly 
 meaningless that he neither moved nor spoke ; and even Don 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 195 
 
 Felix s friendly voice charging him " Up, Stanley ! up, man ! 
 thou art saved thine innocence made known !" failed to 
 convince him of the truth. He rose from his knees ; but his 
 limbs shook, and his face which had changed neither hue 
 nor expression when he had knelt for the fatal blow was 
 colorless as marble. He laid his trembling hand on Father 
 Francis s arm, and tried to speak, but he could not utter a 
 sound. 
 
 " Tis true, my beloved son : thy sinful thoughts have 
 been sufficiently chastised ; and the mercy of Heaven pub 
 licly revealed. Our prayers have not been said in vain 5 
 thine innocence is known the guilty one discovered !" 
 
 To doubt these solemn accents was impossible, and though 
 the effort was mighty to prevent it, Nature would have 
 sway, and Stanley laid his head on the Prior s arm, and 
 burst into tears. And the wild shout that again awoke, 
 seemed to clarion forth a thrilling denial to the charge of 
 weakness, which on such openly demonstrated emotion, some 
 hearts dead to the voice of Nature might have pronounced. 
 
 King Ferdinand had not been idle while this exciting 
 scene was enacting ; questioning briefly but distinctly the 
 villager who had accompanied the novice ; the latter still 
 remaining in a state of exhaustion precluding all inquiries 
 from him. Perez, however, could only repeat the lad s 
 words when informed that the execution of Senor Stanley 
 was to take place that day. Father Ambrose had merely 
 told him that he (Perez) had rendered a most important 
 service to more than one individual by his compassionate care 
 of the dying man, whose desire to communicate with the King 
 was no idle raving. He had also charged him to take par 
 ticular care of the young novice, who was ailing and weakly ; 
 that the emergency of the present case alone had compelled 
 him to send the lad to Segovia, as his dress and ability, might 
 gain him a quicker admission to the King or Queen, than 
 the rude appearance and uncouth dialect of his companion. 
 The father had also requested him to urge the officers, whom 
 the King might send to take the dying man s confession, to 
 travel at their utmost speed, for he thought death was ap 
 proaching fast. 
 
 With his usual rapidity of thought and decision, Ferdi 
 nand s orders were given and so quickly obeyed, that even 
 
195 THE VALE OF CEDARS , 
 
 before the arrival of the Sub-Prior and Don Felix with the 
 released prisoner, a band of men, headed by Don Alonzo and 
 two of the chief officers of the Santa Hermandad, had already 
 started for the village. The King still retained Perez, not only 
 to reward him liberally, but that his tale might be repeated 
 to the proper authorities, and compared with that of the no 
 vice, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered to give it. The 
 entrance of Stanley effectually prevented his giving more than 
 a pitying glance towards the poor boy, who had been raised 
 on one of the benches, surrounded by the soldiers, who were 
 doing all their rude kindness suggested to revive him. 
 
 Isabella had followed her husband to the hall, and been a 
 quiet but penetrative observer of all that followed. She had 
 started as- the voice of the novice met her ear, and made a 
 few Vasty steps forward ; but then checked herself, and qui 
 etly watched the*" proceedings of the soldiers. Perceiving how 
 wholly ineffectual their efforts appeared, she advanced to 
 wards them. With the most reverential affection the men 
 made way for her. They had been so accustomed to see her 
 on the battle-field, tending the wounded and the dying, sooth 
 ing their anguish and removing their cares, ay, and more 
 than once doing the same kindly office in their rude and lowly 
 domes, that her appearance and gentle tending of the boy, 
 excited no surprise whatever. She motioned them all back, 
 apparently to allow a free current of air in reality, to pre 
 vent them from adopting her own suspicions ; she did not re 
 move the somewhat unusually tightly-secured hood ; but for 
 her, one glance on that white and chiselled face was suffi 
 cient. Her skill was at length successful, and with the first 
 symptom of returning animation, she left him to the soldiers, 
 and joined the throng around the King ; but her eye, which 
 from long use, appeared literally endowed with power to take 
 in every desired object, however separated, at one glance, still 
 watched him as he painfully endeavored to rise, and threw 
 one searching glance towards the principal group. His eyes 
 rested a full minute on the prisoner, with an expression which 
 Isabella alone, perhaps, of all in that hall, could read. A 
 momentary crimson flushed his cheek, and then his face was 
 bowed in his spread hands, and his slight frame shook, with 
 the fervor of the thanksgiving, which his whole soul out* 
 poured. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 197 
 
 Perceiving that the lad had recovered his senses, Perez 
 referred all the eager questioners to him, feeling so bewil 
 dered at the marvellous transformation of himself, in his own 
 opinion, from an ignorant rustic, who had never seen the in 
 terior of a town, to the permitted companion of his sovereign 
 and his nobles, and even of Isabella, and he received from 
 her lijs a few words of kindly commendation, that it was al 
 most an effort to speak ; and he longed to rush back to his 
 village and astound them all, and still more, triumph over 
 his friend, the hostellerie-keeper, who, lord it as he might, 
 had never been so honored. 
 
 " Come hither, boy," said Ferdinand kindly ; and whe no 
 vice slowly and with evident reluctance obeyed. " We could 
 almost wish thy tastes had pointed elsewhere than the church, 
 that our acknowledgments of thy exertions in our service 
 might be more substantial than mere thanks ; however, thy 
 patron saint shall not want a grateful offering. Nay, our 
 presence is surely not so terrible that thou shouldst tremble 
 thus, poor child ! Hast thou aught more to communicate ? 
 aught for our private ear, or that of her Highness our con 
 sort ? If not, we will not exhaust thy little strength by use 
 less questions." 
 
 In a tone so low and faltering, that Ferdinand was oblig 
 ed to bend down his head to hear, the novice replied, that if 
 messengers had been despatched to the village, his errand 
 was sufficiently accomplished. Father Ambrose had merely 
 charged him to say that the real murderer had himself con 
 fessed his crime, and that the sin had been incited, by such 
 a horrible train of secret guilt, that all particulars were de 
 ferred till they could be imparted to the authorities of jus 
 tice, and by them to the sovereigns themselves. For him 
 self he only asked permission to return to the village with 
 Perez, and rejoin his guardian, Father Ambrose, as soon as 
 his Grace would please to dismiss him. 
 
 " Thou must not shalt not return Without my poor 
 thanks, my young preserver," exclaimed Stanley, with emo 
 tion. " Had it not been for exertions which have well nigh 
 exhausted thee, exertions as gratuitous as noble for what 
 am I to thee ? my honor might have been saved indeed, but 
 my life would have paid a felon s forfeit. Would that I could 
 serve thee thou shouldst not find me ungrateful ! Give me 
 
198 
 
 thine hand, at least, as pledge that shouldst thou ever need 
 me if not for thyself, for others thou wilt seek me without 
 scruple. 
 
 The boy laid his hand on Stanley s without hesitation, 
 but without speaking ; he merely raised his heavy eyes a 
 moment to his face, and vainly did Stanley endeavor to ac 
 count for the thrill which shot through his heart so suddenly 
 as almost to take away his breath, as he felt the soft touch 
 of that little hand and met that momentary glance. 
 
 Who has not felt the extraordinary power of a tone A 
 look a touch ? which, 
 
 " Touching th electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound," 
 
 fills the heart and mind with irresistible impulses, engrossing 
 thoughts, and startling memories, all denned and united, and 
 yet lasting for so brie-f a moment that we are scarcely able to 
 realize their existence ere they are gone and so completely, 
 that we perplex ourselves again and again with the vain ef 
 fort to recall their subject or their meaning. And so it was 
 with Stanley. The thrill passed and he could not even trace 
 its origin or flitting thought ; he only saw a Benedictine no 
 vice before him ; he only felt regret that there was no appa 
 rent means with which he could evince his gratitude. 
 
 On Father Francis offering to take charge of the boy, till 
 his strength was sufficiently renovated to permit his safe re 
 turn to the village, Isabella spoke, for the first time : 
 
 " Reverend Father ! We will ourselves take charge of 
 this poor child. There are some questions we would fain in 
 quire, ere we can permit his return to his guardian : if satis 
 factorily answered, a munificent gift to his patron saint shall 
 demonstrate, how deeply we feel the exertions he has made ; 
 and if we can serve him better than merely allowing his re 
 turn to his monastery, trust me we shall not fail. Follow me, 
 youth !" she continued, as the Sub-Prior and the King, 
 though surprised at her words, acquiesced. The novice 
 shrunk back and clung to the side of Perez, as if most un 
 willing to comply ; but neither the command, nor the look, 
 with which it was enforced could be disobeyed, and slowly 
 and falteringly he followed Isabella from the hall. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR, 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Tis done ! and so she droops. Oh, woman-heart! 
 How bold and brave to do thy destined part ! 
 Thro sorrow s waves press firmly, calmly on, 
 And pause not, sink not, till the goal is won ! 
 
 MS. 
 
 NOT a word passed between them, until they had reached 
 Isabella s private cabinet ; and even then the Queen though 
 she seated herself and signed to the boy to stand before her, 
 as desirous of addressing him asked not a question, but 
 fixed her penetrating eyes on his pallid features, with a look 
 in which severity was very evidently struggling, with com 
 miseration and regard. To attempt to retain disguise was 
 useless ; Marie flung aside the shrouding hood, and sinking 
 down at the Queen s feet, buried her face in her robe, and 
 murmured in strong emotion 
 
 " Gracious Sovereign mercy !" 
 
 "Again wouldst thou deceive, again impose upon me, 
 Marie? What am I to think of conduct mysterious as 
 thine? Wherefore fly from my protection reject with in 
 gratitude the kindness I would have proffered mistrust the 
 interest which thou hadst already proved, and then return as 
 now? I promised forgiveness, and continuation of regard, 
 if the truth were revealed and mystery banished, and darker 
 than ever has thy conduct drawn the veil around thee. What 
 urged thy flight, and wherefore this disguise ? Speak out, 
 and truthfully ; we will be tampered with no longer !" 
 
 But Marie vainly tried to obey ; her brain was burning ; 
 the rapid ride, the sudden transition, from the sickening 
 horror of being too late, to the assurance of Stanley s safety, 
 the thought that she had indeed parted from him for ever, 
 and now Isabella s evident anger, when her woman-heart 
 turned to her as a child s to its mother s, yearning for that 
 gentle sympathy which, at such a moment, could alone have 
 soothed. Words seemed choked within her, and the effort 
 to speak produced only sobs. Isabella s eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
200 
 
 " Speak," she said, more gently ; " Marie say only why 
 thou didst fly me, when I had given no evidence, that the 
 boon thou didst implore me to grant, had become, by thy 
 strange confession, null and void. What urged thy flight ?" 
 
 < ; Not my own will. Oh, no no, gracious Sovereign ; I 
 would have remained a contented prisoner with thee, but 
 they bore me away to such scenes and sounds of horror that 
 their very memory burns my brain. Oh, madam ! do with 
 me what thou wilt, but condemn me not to return to that 
 fearful place again. Death, death itself ay, even such a 
 death as Arthur has escaped were mercy in its stead I" 
 
 " Of what speakest thou, Marie ? Who could have dared 
 bear thee from our protection without thine own free will ? 
 Thy mind has been overwrought and is bewildered still ; we 
 have been harsh, perchance, to urge thee to speak now: 
 repose may " 
 
 i: Repose ! Oh, no no ; let me remain with thee !" she 
 sobbed, as forgetful of either state or form, her head sunk 
 on Isabella s knee. " He has borne me from your highness 
 power once ; he can, he may, I know he will again. Oh, savo 
 me from him ! It was not because of my faith he bore me 
 there, and tempted and tortured and laughed at my agony ; 
 he taunted me with his power to wreak the vengeance of a 
 baffled passion upon me for, as a Jewess, who would protect 
 me ? Oh, mighty Sovereign ! send me not from thy pre 
 sence. Don Luis will take me from thy very roof again." 
 
 " Don Luis !" repeated Isabella, more and more convinc 
 ed that Marie s sufferings had injured her brain. " What 
 power can he have, so secret and so terrible ? Marie, thou 
 ravest !" 
 
 " Do I rave ?" replied the unhappy girl, raising her right 
 hand to her throbbing brow. " It may be so ; perhaps it has 
 all been a dream a wild and fearful dream ! and I am 
 awakened from it now ; and yet yet how can it be ; how 
 came my arm thus if it had not been reality horrible, ago 
 nizing reality !" And as she spoke she removed the cover 
 ing from her left arm. Painfully Isabella started : the 
 beautiful limb hung powerless from wrist to shoulder, a dry 
 and scorched and shrievelled bone. 
 
 "And couldst thou think thy Sovereign would ordain, 
 or even permit, such suffering ?" she exclaimed, after a 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 201 
 
 moment s pause, passing her arm fondly round Marie, whom 
 she had raised from the ground to a cushion by her side. 
 " My poor unhappy child, what is this dark mystery ? Who 
 can have dared to injure thee, and call it justice, zeal 
 religion, perchance ! Mother of Mercy ! pardon the profana 
 tion of the word ! Try and collect thy thoughts, and tell 
 me all. Who has dared thus insult our power ?" 
 
 " Don Luis ! Don Luis ! repeated Marie, clinging like 
 an infant to the Queen, and shuddering with terror at the 
 very recollection of a power which she had faced so calmly. 
 " Oh, save me from him ! torture itself I could bear, but not 
 his words." 
 
 "Den Luis !" reiterated the astonished Queen. "What 
 has he to do with torture ? Who is he what is he, my poor 
 child, that his very name should thus appal thee ? He may 
 indeed have dared speak insulting words, but what power 
 has he thus fearfully to wreak his vengeance ?" 
 
 "Who is he what is he?" repeated Marie, looking with 
 surprise in the Queen s pitying face. " Does not your high 
 ness know and yet how shouldst thou ? his very office is 
 as secret as his own black nature? Has your highness never 
 heard men whisper of a secret Inquisition, hiding itself even 
 in thy domains ? Oh, my Sovereign, it was there they 
 dragged me ! [her voice sunk to a low shuddering whisper] 
 and he was grand master there ; he even Don Luis ! And 
 he will bear me there again. Oh, save me from those fearful 
 sounds those horrid sights : they glare before me now !" 
 
 " And I will save thee, my child ! ay, and root out these 
 midnight horrors from my kingdom," exclaimed Isabella, 
 indignation flashing in her eye, and flushing on her cheek. 
 " Once we have been insulted once deceived ; but never to 
 us can such occur a second time. Fearfully shall this deed 
 of infamy recoil upon its perpetrators ! Tremble not thus, 
 my poor girl, no one shall injure thee ; no one can touch 
 thee, for we are warned, and this fearful tale shall be sifted 
 to the bottom ! Child of a reprobate faith, and outcast race 
 as thou art, thinkest thou that even to thee Isabella would 
 permit injury and injustice? If we love thee too well, may 
 we be forgiven, but cared for thou shalt be ; ay, so cared for, 
 that there shall be joy on earth, and in heaven for thee yet !" 
 
 At another moment, those words would have been under - 
 9* 
 
202 THE VALE OF CEDARSJ 
 
 stood in their real meaning ; but Marie could then only feel 
 the consoling conviction of security and love. It was not 
 merely personal kindness which had so bound her to her 
 Sovereign ; it was the unacknowledged but felt conviction, 
 that Isabella had penetrated her secret feelings, with regard 
 to Arthur Stanley ; and yet not a syllable of this had ever 
 passed the Queen s lips. Oh, true sympathy seldom needs 
 expression, for its full consolation to be given and received ! 
 The heart recognizes intuitively a kindred heart, and turns 
 to it in its sorrow or its joy, conscious of finding in it, repose 
 from itself. But only a woman can give to woman this per 
 fect sympathy ; for the deepest recesses, the hidden sources 
 of anguish in the female heart no man can read. 
 
 Engrossed as Isabella was by the mysterious information 
 imparted by Marie, indefinitely yet forcibly confirmed by 
 her, then unusual, knowledge of the past history of Spain, 
 she was more easily satisfied with Marie s hurried and hesi 
 tating account of her escape, than she might otherwise have 
 been. To proclaim her relationship with Father Ambrose 
 was ruin to him at once. He had been one, she said with 
 truth, who had received great obligations from her family, 
 and had vowed to return them whenever it should be in his 
 power so to do | he had, therefore, made the exertion to save 
 her, and was about taking her to her childhood s home on 
 the frontiers of Castile, the only place, it appeared to him, 
 sufficiently secret to conceal her from Don Luis s thousand 
 spies ; but that on the providential discovery of the real 
 murderer, and the seeming impossibility of ever seeing the 
 King himself in time she paused. 
 
 " Could he send thee on such a rapid errand, my child, 
 and suffering thus ?" gently inquired Isabella. 
 
 " No, gracious madam," was the unhesitating rejoinder, 
 though a burning blush mounted to her very temples ; " it 
 was my own voluntary choice. It was my unhappy fate to 
 have been the actual cause of his arraignment ; it was but 
 my duty to save him if I could." 
 
 " And thou wouldst have returned with Perez had we not 
 penetrated thy disguise ?" 
 
 " Yes, gracious Sovereign." And the flush faded into 
 paleness, ashy as before ; but the tone was calm and firm. 
 
 The Queen looked at her intently, but made no further 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 203 
 
 observation ; and speedily summoning her before trusted at 
 tendants, placed the widow of Morales once more in their 
 charge ; imparted to them as much of Marie s tale as she 
 deemed requisite, and the consequent necessity for her re 
 turn to the Queen s care ; nay, her very existence was to be 
 kept secret from all save those to whom she herself should 
 choose to impart it. Gratified by her confidence, they were 
 eager to obey ; and so skilfully did they enter into her wishes, 
 that their very companions suspected not the identity of the 
 prisoner, in whom, they were told, their Sovereign was so 
 much interested. Curiosity might have been busy with very 
 many, but their vague conjectures fell far short of the truth ; 
 Catharine Pas was the only one of Isabella s younger maid 
 ens to whom the real fact was imparted. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Twas a dark tale of crime, and awed and chilled 
 
 E en indignation seeming horror still d, 
 
 Men stood beside a murd rer s couch of death, 
 
 Watching the glazing eye and flickering breath 
 
 Speaking with look and hurried sign alone, 
 
 Their thoughts, too terror-fraught for word or tone. MS. 
 
 THE indignation excited in the Queen s mind against Don 
 Louis was destined, very speedily, to be increased. Ferdi 
 nand had had time to become half angry, and quite impa 
 tient, ere his messengers dispatched to the village returned. 
 Stanley had been released was regarded by all as innocent; 
 but this was literally only from a peasant s word and the 
 half broken intelligence of an exhausted boy : he wanted 
 proof, and a vague dread would take possession of him that his 
 fate was but temporarily suspended. At an early hour the 
 next day, however, Don Alonzo returned ; and Ferdinand s im 
 patient anger was averted, when he found the delay had been 
 occasioned by their determination, to convey the dying man 
 to Segovia, and the caution necessary for its accomplishment. 
 The Hermanos had already noted down his confession ; but 
 
204 
 
 it was so fraught with extended and dangerous consequences, 
 that they felt, they dared not act on their responsibility : all 
 suppressing measures must proceed from the sovereigns 
 themselves. Perez was again summoned, and at once swore 
 to the identity of the dying man as the individual he had 
 rescued from a deep pit, in a lonely mountain-pass, about 
 twenty miles from his village ; and the man, whose eagerness 
 to speak was evident, though his voice was so faint, as 
 scarcely to be intelligible, commenced his dark and terri 
 ble tale. 
 
 The indignation of the Sovereign, and of those whom he 
 had chosen to be present, was excited to the utmost, mingled 
 with horror as the mysterious fates of many a loved compa 
 nion were thus so fearfully solved ; but none felt the recital 
 with the same intensity of emotion as the Sub-Prior, who, 
 with head bowed down upon his breast, and hands tightly 
 clenched, knelt beside the penitent. It was not indignation, 
 it was not horror ; but agony of spirit that a religion which 
 he loved better than himself, whose purity and honor he 
 would have so jealously guarded, that he would have sacri 
 ficed life itself for its service, should have been made the co 
 ver for such unutterable villany. Few imagined the deeds 
 of painful mortification and bodily penance which, in his so 
 litude, the Sub-Prior afterwards inflicted on himself; as if 
 his individual sufferings should atone for the guilt of his 
 brethren, and turn from them the wrath of an avenging 
 God. 
 
 Horrible as were the details imparted, incomprehensible 
 as it seemed that so extended and well-organized a power, 
 should exist so secretly throughout Spain, as to hide itself 
 even from the sovereigns and ministers of justice themselves, 
 yet none doubted what they heard. Sovereigns and nobles 
 well knew that the Inquisition had been established both in 
 Castile and Arragon centuries before, and that the annals of 
 those kingdoms, though mentioning the resistance of the 
 people against this awful power, had been silent as to its en 
 tire extirpation. 
 
 In the first part of his narrative the man had spoken 
 shrinkingly and fearfully, as if still in dread of vengeance 
 on his betrayal ; but his voice became bolder when he con 
 fessed his own share in the late atrocious crime. Accn 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 205 
 
 tomed by the strictest and most rigid training, to obey as 
 familiars, the will of their superiors without question to be 
 mere mindless and feelingless tools, to whom death itself was 
 awarded, if by word or hint, or even sign, they dared evince 
 themselves to be as other men he had, at the command of 
 the Grand Inquisitor, deeply drugged Senor Stanley s even 
 ing draught, and, while under its potent influence, had pur 
 loined his sword ; waylaid Don Ferdinand in the Calle Sole- 
 dad, effectually done the deed, and aware that it would be 
 many hours ere the English Senor could arouse himself from 
 the stupifying effects of the draught had intended return- 
 mg to his chamber still more effectually to throw on h/m the 
 suspicion of the murder. It happened, however, that it was 
 the first time he had ever been chosen by his superiors as 
 their tool for actual murder, and the magnitude of the crime, 
 from the greatness of, and universal love borne towards the 
 victim, had so appalled him, that, combined with the raging 
 storm and pitchy darkness, he had felt utterly bewildered. 
 Not well acquainted with Segovia, he had found himself, 
 after more than an hour s wandering instead of, as he ex 
 pected, again near the Senor s lodgings in the self-same 
 spot whence he had started, and close by the body of his 
 victim. The sight horrified and bewildered him yet more, 
 and he crept behind a low wall, resolved on remaining there 
 till the tempest had at least partially subsided, and then fulfil 
 the remainder of his instructions ; knowing that to fail in 
 any one point, would be the signal of his own destruction. 
 Fortune, however, so far favored him, as to send* the young 
 English Senor to the very spot, and there was therefore no 
 occasion for his further interference. He tarried till he had 
 seen Stanley s arrest, and had heard the loud execrations of 
 all proclaiming him the murderer and then returned to his 
 employers. 
 
 The education of the familiars had so far failed with him, 
 that, though aware of its danger, thoughts would enter his 
 mind, as to how Don Ferdinand Morales could have offended 
 the dread power which he served, and why the foreign Senor 
 should be thus implicated in the deed. He hoped to have 
 concealed these doubts ; but from the issue, he imagined that 
 some unguarded word spoken to a companion, must have be 
 trayed him. He was chosen by the Grand Inquisitor as his 
 
206 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 companion, on some secret expedition two days after tho 
 trial, unsuspicious of the danger awaiting him, till the deso 
 late scene on which they unexpectedly entered flashed terror 
 on his mind. His superior had there paused, told him that 
 from the witness of Beta, the servant girl, it was quite evident 
 he had disobeyed part of the instructions given, or his return 
 to Arthur s lodgings would have been heard by her as well 
 as his departure, and thus at once have implicated the Eng 
 lishman as the real murderer; that though chance had 
 thrown equal suspicion upon him, it did net remove his dis 
 obedience, and so he was doomed to death ; and the blow, in 
 stantaneously given, felled him insensible to the ground. 
 When he recovered his senses, he found himself lying in a 
 deep pit, where he had evidently been thrown as dead. The 
 wounds and contusions received in the fall, as far as he could 
 recollect, by producing a most excruciating sense of pain, 
 roused him from temporary insensibility, and he was con 
 vinced he heard his murderer s voice though he could not 
 see him exclaim distinctly, as if he were leaning over the 
 mouth of the pit, " There goes my last doubt : other men 
 might call it their last fear, but I know not the word! 
 Three victims for the possession of one and who will now 
 dare to brand me ? I had slain that faltering craven without 
 his disobedience, he dared to think upon his deed." 
 
 Almost insensible from agony as he was, these words had 
 impressed themselves indelibly ; causing the burning desire 
 to live and be revenged. And the opportune succors of the 
 villager, Perez, with a party of woodmen; the completely 
 hidden site of the village to which he had been conveyed ; 
 and the. at first, favorable healing of his wounds, appeared 
 to give him every hope of its accomplishment. He had re 
 solved on communicating his tale to none save to Ferdinand 
 himself, or to the Chief Hermano, under strict promise to 
 reveal it to the Sovereign : but his intense anxiety had evi 
 dently prevented the attainment of his desire, by producing 
 fever ; and thence arose his wild and almost maniac cravings 
 to make confession, and bind some holy monk, by a solemn 
 vow, to convey it to the King. 
 
 It was not till the conclusion of this momentous narra 
 tion, that the King permitted any questions to be asked ; 
 and those he then demanded were so concise and clear, that 
 at few words were needed in which to couch the reply. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 207 
 
 " And the designer of this hellish plot, the real murderer 
 through thy hand, of one brave friend, and almost another 
 is the same who has murdered thee !" he inquired, after 
 learning the exact sites of these mysterious halls ; informa 
 tion which caused some of the bravest hearts to shudder, 
 from their close vicinity. 
 
 The man answered at once in the affirmative. 
 " And he dares assume, in this illegal tribunal, the rank 
 of Grand Inquisitor ?" 
 " Ay, gracious liege." 
 
 " And his name ? that by which he is known to man ? 
 Speak ! And as thy ..true confession may be the means of 
 bringing a very fiend to justice, so may thy share in his 
 deeds be pardoned." 
 
 An indescribable expression passed over the fast stiffen 
 ing features of the dying. He half raised himself, and, lay 
 ing hi clammy hand on Ferdinand s robe, whispered, in 
 clear and thrilling tones 
 
 " Bend low, my liege ; even at this moment I dare not 
 speak it loud ; but, oh ! beware of those who affect superior 
 sanctity to their fellows : there is one who in the sunshine 
 stands forth wisest, and purest, and strictest ; and at mid 
 night rules arch-fiend men call him DON Luis GARCIA. He 
 is Don Ferdinand s murderer ! He sought Senor Stanley s 
 death and mine ; but instead of a victim, he has found an 
 accuser ! His web has coiled round himself flee him ! 
 avoid him as ye would a walking pestilence, or visible de 
 mon ! Minister as he may be of our holy father, the Pope, 
 he is a villain his death alone can bring safety to Spain. 
 Ha ! what is this? Mother of mercy ! save me ! The cross ! 
 the cross ! Absolution ! The flames of hell ! Father, bid 
 
 them avaunt ! I a true confession." The words were 
 
 lost in a fearful gurgling sound, and the convulsion which 
 ensued was so terrible, that some of the very bravest involun 
 tarily turned away ; but Stanley, who had listened to the 
 tale with emotions too varied and intense for speech, now 
 sprung forward, wildly exclaiming 
 
 " Three victims for one ! Where is that one ? Speak 
 speak in mercy ! Oh, God ! he dies and says no word !" 
 
 The eyes of the dying man glared on him, but there was 
 no meaning in their gaze ; they rolled in their sockets, glazed, 
 d in another minute all was stiff in death. 
 
THE VALE OF CEDARS j 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX, 
 
 " Doth Heaven 
 
 Woo the free spirit for dishonored breath 
 To sell its birthright 1 Doth Heaven set a price 
 On the clear jewel of unsullied faith 
 And the bright calm of conscience 7" 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 A PRIVATE council immediately followed the confession re 
 ceived ; but though it continued many hours, no active mea 
 sures could at once be decided upon. Secret and illegal, 
 according to Spanish laws, as this tribunal was, it was yet an 
 instrument of the Pope, acknowledging his supremacy alone, 
 and, in consequence, always receiving his protection. Civil 
 justice, it appeared, could not reach those who were pro 
 tected by the head of the church; but Ferdinand s mind 
 was far too capacious to admit this plea. Rooted out of 
 his dominions in its present form, at least he resolved it 
 should be, and Isabella confirmed the resolve. Not only was 
 its secret existence fraught with the most awful crimes and 
 injustice, regarded generally, but it was derogatory and insult 
 ing to that sovereign power, which Ferdinand and Isabella 
 had both determined on rendering supreme. Father Francis, 
 whose usual energy of thought and counsel appeared com 
 pletely annihilated from the fearful tale he had heard, stren 
 uously urged the sovereigns to wait the arrival of Torque- 
 mada, the Queen s confessor, who was now every hour ex 
 pected, and whose sterner and more experienced mind would 
 give them better counsel. To this both sovereigns agreed, 
 but one measure they adopted at once. As Grand Inquisi 
 tor, the principal actor in this atrocious drama might be ser 
 vant of and solely answerable to the Pope ; as Don Luis 
 Garcia, he was subject to Ferdinand and Isabella, and as 
 such amenable to the laws of Spain. A schedule was there 
 fore drawn up, stating that whereas the man commonly 
 known as Don Luis Garcia, had been convicted of many 
 atrocious and capital crimes, and, amongst the gravest, of 
 having instigated and commanded the murder of Don Ferdi- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 20$ 
 
 nand Morales, and done to death his own tool, the real com- 
 mitter of the deed, that Arthur Stanley might be charged 
 with, and executed for, the same ; the sovereigns of Spain 
 called upon their loving subjects of every rank and every 
 degree, in all and every part of the realm to unite in en 
 deavoring to discover, and deliver up the said Don Luis 
 Garcia, to the rigor of the law. An enormous reward was 
 offered for delivering him alive into the hands of justice, 
 and half the sum, should he have resisted to the death. The 
 proclamation was made by sound of trumpet in various parts 
 of Segovia, and copies sent, with all possible speed, to every 
 city, town, and even village, over Spain. A correct descrip 
 tion of his person accompanied the schedule, and every pos 
 sible measure was adopted that could tend to his apprehen 
 sion. So strong was the popular feeling against him that 
 every class, almost every individual, felt it a personal duty 
 to assist, in this case, the course of justice. He had deceived 
 all men, and all men in consequence leagued themselves 
 against him. So secretly, and yet so judiciously, were the 
 plans for his seizure carried on, and so universal the popular 
 ferment, that it appeared marvellous how he could have es 
 caped; and yet weeks merged into months, and, though the 
 measures of the Santa Herman dad in no way relaxed, Don 
 Luis was still at large, and effectually concealed. We may 
 here state at once though it carries us much in advance of 
 our present scene that Father Francis resolved at all costs 
 to purge the church of Spain from this most unholy mem 
 ber ; and, authorized by the sovereigns, made a voluntary 
 pilgrimage to the court of St. P eter s, obtained an audience 
 with the Pope, laid the case before him, and besought the 
 penalty of excommunication to be fulminated against the 
 hypocrite who had dared to use, as cover for most atrocious 
 villany, the pure and sacred ordinances of the church. Alex 
 ander the Sixth, himself a worker of such awful crimes that 
 he was little capable of entering into the pure and elevated 
 character of the Sub-Prior, heard him calmly, smiled sneer- 
 ingly, and then informed him, he was too late. The worthy 
 and zealous servant of Rome, known to men as Don Luis 
 Garcia, had been before him, made confession of certain 
 passions as exciting erring deeds, to which all men were 
 liable, had done penance, received absolution, and was in a 
 fair way of rising to the highest eminence in the church. 
 
210 
 
 Father Francis remonstrated, urged, dared to speak 
 bolder truths than had ever before reached the papal ear, 
 but all without effect : and this truly good and spiritual man 
 returned to Spain stricken to the dust. He reported the 
 failure of his mission ; heard, with bowed head and aching 
 soul, the natural indignation of Ferdinand, and the quieter, 
 but to him, still more expressive sorrow, at this fearful abuse 
 of her holy religion from Isabella ; and then, with an earn 
 estness impossible to be resisted, conjured the royal permis 
 sion to retire entirely from all interference in public life. 
 He could not, he said, support the weight of shame, which, 
 falling on his church, had affected him individually. Vain 
 were the royal solicitations, vain the love of the people, vain, 
 the entreaties of the abbot and brethren of his convent ; he 
 resigned the office of Sub-Prior, relinquished every religious 
 and secular honor, and buried himself in the most impene 
 trable solitude, fraught with austerity and mortification, per 
 sonal penance, and yet devoted to such extraordinary acquire 
 ments, that, though for long years his very existence was well 
 nigh forgotten, when next he burst upon the astonished eyes 
 of the world, it was no longer as Father Francis, the Sub- 
 Prior of a Franciscan monastery, a good and benevolent 
 monk, but as the learned priest, the sagacious statesman, the 
 skilful general, ay, and gallant warrior the great and good 
 CARDINAL XIMENES ! 
 
 To wait the arrival of Torquemada, the sovereigns and 
 their council unanimously resolved. It was but a very brief 
 delay, and would permit a more effectual extermination of 
 the secret office than could be decided upon by the laity 
 alone. Ere the day closed, and in presence of the sovereigns, 
 of all the nobles, officers of state, the Santa Hermandad and 
 principal citizens, Arthur Stanley was formally pronounced 
 INNOCENT of the crime with which he had been charged. The 
 golden spurs, which had been ignominiously hacked from his 
 heels, were replaced by the aged Duke of Murcia ; knight 
 hood again bestowed by the King j and Isabella s own hand, 
 with winning courtesy, presented him a sword, whose real 
 Toledo blade, and richly jewelled hilt, should replace the 
 valued weapon, the loss of which had caused him such un 
 merited suffering, and shame. 
 
 " May it be used for us, as faithfully and nobly as its 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 211 
 
 predecessor," were Isabella s concluding words ; " and its as 
 sociations, Senor Stanley, be nought but those of joy." 
 
 The young man s cheek burned, but there was a deep 
 shadow on his countenance, which neither the honors he re 
 ceived, nor his own urgent efforts had power to remove. He 
 looked wistfully after the sovereigns as they quitted the 
 church, then with an irresistible impulse, broke from the 
 throng with whom he had been endeavoing to join in ani 
 mated converse, and, suddenly kneeling before Isabella, ex 
 claimed in low, agitated tones 
 
 She she may still be in the villain s power. Oh, my 
 liege, wait not for Torquemada s arrival and leave her to die ! 
 He will wreak his full vengeance upon her." 
 
 " Trust me for her safety, my young friend ; measures 
 have been already taken to secure it," was Isabella s instant 
 reply, in a tone so full of sympathy, that Arthur caught her 
 robe, and pressed it to his lips. 
 
 She smiled kindly and passed on, still accompanied by 
 Ferdinand, not a little astonished at her words, and still 
 more so when Marie s whole tale was imparted to him. 
 
 On retiring to rest that night, his thoughts still engross 
 ed with vain speculations as to the destined fate of Marie, 
 Arthur, half unconsciously, unsheathed Isabella s magnifi 
 cent gift, to judge of the temper of the blade ; and, as he 
 did so, a scroll, which had been twisted round the steel, fell 
 to the ground. He raised it with hasty curiosity, but his 
 heart throbbed as he recognized the handwriting of the 
 Queen, and deciphered the following words : 
 
 " To Senor Stanley, in secrecy and confidence, these : 
 The eye of love is said to pierce through all disguises. In 
 this instance it has proved less discriminative than woman s 
 sympathy, and woman s penetration. She in whom we 
 believe Senor Stanley interested, and to whose exertions he 
 owes the publication of his innocence in time to save life as 
 well as honor, is safe, and under the protection of her 
 Queen. Let this suffice for present peace, and speak of it 
 to none. ISABELLA K-." 
 
 Arthur s first impulse was to press the precious letter to 
 his lips, and gaze upon it till every letter seemed transferred 
 from the paper to his heart ; his next was to sit down on the 
 nearest seat, and bury his face in his hands, actually bewil- 
 
212 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 dered by the flash of light, which with those brief words 
 came. Disguise exertion could it be possible ? Nay, it 
 must be ! The soft touch of that little hand, the speaking 
 look of those lovely eyes, again thrilled through his very 
 soul, and he knew their meaning now. Mysterious, bewil 
 dering as it was, the novice, the poor, exhausted, seeming 
 boy was Marie ! Again he owed his life to her ; and the 
 wild yearning to gaze on her again, to clasp her to his bosom, 
 to pour forth his gratitude, to soothe and shield, became so 
 painfully intense, as almost to banish the joy, which her res 
 cue from danger ought to have occasioned. Had it not been 
 for her refusal to bear witness against him, not even the 
 month s grace would have been allowed him ; he would have 
 been executed at once. She had saved him then she had 
 saved him now ! And his heart so swelled he knew not how 
 to contain its fulness, how to calm it down, to wait till the 
 Queen s further pleasure should be known. But hope sprung 
 up to give him comfort ; Isabella would accomplish her 
 intention of conversion ; Marie could never resist her, and 
 then then, oh ! she would be all, all his own, and life shine, 
 for both the brighter, for its former tempest clouds. Mean 
 while, he had such sweet thoughts, such lovely images, to 
 rest on. He owed his life, his honor, to her; and he 
 thought that it was his devoted gratitude which so deepened 
 love. How sweet is such illusion ! how refreshingly soothing 
 to be grateful, when the object of that gratitude has been, 
 and is still, the dear object of our love ! How often we 
 deceive ourselves, and imagine we are experiencing the 
 strongest emotions of gratitude, when, had an indifferent 
 person conferred the same benefit, we might feel it indeed, 
 but it would more pain than pleasure ; and be an obligation 
 so heavy that we should never rest, till in some measure, at 
 least, it was returned. How contrary the impression of 
 benefits from those we love ! 
 
 Never before had the appearance of the Queen s confess 
 or, the stern, and some said cruel, Torquemada, been hailed 
 with such excitement. He was speedily informed of the 
 late transactions, and his counsel most earnestly demanded 
 by both sovereigns. He required some days to deliberate, 
 he said, so momentous and important was the affair ; and 
 when he did reply, his counsel was entirely opposed to what 
 
213 
 
 many hoped, and Ferdinand expected. Indignant as he 
 declared himself to be. at the abuses in religion, he yet put 
 a strong and most decided negative on the royal proposition, 
 of utterly exterminating this unlawful tribunal. With all 
 his natural eloquence, and in most forcible language, he 
 declared that, if kept within proper bounds, restrained by 
 due authority, and its proceedings open to the inspection of 
 the Sovereign, and under him, the archbishops- and other 
 dignitaries of the church, the Inquisition would be a most 
 Valuable auxiliary to the well-doing and purifying of the 
 most Catholic kingdom. He produced argument after argu 
 ment of most subtle reasoning, to prove that every effort to 
 abolish the office in Spain had been entirely useless : it would 
 exist, and if not publicly acknowledged, would always be 
 liable to abuse and desecration ; that the only means of 
 exterminating its secret, and too arrogant power, was to per 
 mit its public establishment, and so control it, that its 
 measures should be open to the present, and to every succes 
 sive sovereign. He allowed the necessity, the imperious 
 necessity of rooting out the secret office ; but he was con 
 vinced this could not be done, nor in fact would the church 
 allow it, unless it should be recognized in the face of all 
 Europe, as based on alike the civil and religious laws of 
 Spain. 
 
 On Ferdinand the wily churchman worked, by proving 
 that his royal prerogative would be insured rather than 
 injured by this proceeding ; that by publicly establishing 
 the Inquisition, he proved his resolution to control even this 
 power, and render it a mere instrument in his sovereign 
 hand ; that his contemplated conquest of the Moors could 
 not be better begun than by the recognition of a holy office, 
 whose gbry it would be to bring all heathens to the purify 
 ing and saving doctrines of the church of Rome. Ferdinand, 
 though wary and politic himself, was no match for Torque- 
 mada s Jesuitical eloquence ; he was won over to adopt the 
 churchman s views with scarcely an effort to resist them. 
 With Isabella the task was much more difficult He appeal 
 ed guardedly and gently to her tender regard for the spirit 
 ual welfare of her people, sympathized with her in her indig 
 nant horror of the crimes committed under religion s name, 
 but persisted that the evil of a secret Inquisition would 
 
214 THE VALE OF CEDARS } 
 
 never be remedied, save by the measure he proposed He 
 pledged himself never to rest, till the present halls and min 
 isters of darkness were exterminated from every part of 
 Spain ; but it could only be on condition of her assent to 
 his counsel. He used all his eloquence ; he appealed to her 
 as a zealous Catholic, whose first duty was to further and 
 purify her faith ; but for four days he worked in vain ; and 
 when she did give her consent, it was with such a burst of 
 tears, that it seemed as if her foreboding eye had indeed 
 read the shrouded annals of the future, and beheld there, 
 not the sufferings of individuals alone, but of the decline and 
 dishonor of that fair and lovely land, which she had so labor 
 ed to exalt. Ere another year from that day had passed, 
 the Inquisition was publicly established throughout the 
 kingdom ; and Torquemada, as first Grand Inquisitor, reaped 
 the reward of his persevering counsel, and sealed, with blood, 
 the destiny of Spain. 
 
 To her confessor, Isabella revealed the story of Marie, 
 and her own intentions. Torquemada heard the tale with a 
 stern severity, little encouraging to the Queen s ideas of 
 mercy ; he insisted that her conversion must be effected ; if 
 by kindness and forbearance, well and good ; but if she were 
 obstinate, harshness must be resorted to ; and only on that 
 condition would he grant Isabella the desired blessing on her 
 task. He did not fail to bring forward the fact of a zealous 
 Catholic, such as Don Ferdinand Morales, wedding and 
 cherishing one of the accursed race, and conniving at her 
 secret adherence to her religion, as a further and very strong 
 incentive for the public establishment of the Inquisition, 
 whose zealous care would effectually guard the sons of Spain 
 from such unholy alliances in future. He urged the suppo 
 sition of Marie s having become the mother of children by 
 Ferdinand ; was it not most probable, nay, certain, that she 
 would infuse her own unbelief in them ; and then how mixed 
 and defiled a race would take the place of the present pure 
 Castilians. Isabella could reply nothing satisfactory to this 
 eloquent reasoning. The prejudices of education are strong 
 in every really earnest heart ; and though her true woman s 
 nature revolted at every thought of severity, and towards 
 one so suffering as Marie, she acknowledged its necessity, 
 in case of kindness failing. Under the seal of confession, 
 
OR. THE MARTYR. 215 
 
 she imparted her full plan to Torquemada, entering more 
 into minute particulars than she had done even to her hus 
 band, or in words to herself. It was so fraught with mercy 
 and gentleness that Torquemada gave his consent, believing 
 it utterly impossible, if Marie really loved, as Isabella fan 
 cied, that she could resist. 
 
 On the departure of her confessor, the Queen communed, 
 as was her frequent custom, long and severely with her own 
 heart. What was the cause of her extreme dislike to using 
 harshness ? With any other member of that detested race, 
 she felt Torquemada s counsel would have been all-powerful ; 
 she would have left it all to him. It was then mere personal 
 regard, fear of the suffering which, did she cause Marie in 
 crease of pain, she should inflict upon herself, and this must 
 not be. She was failing in the duty she owed her religion, 
 if she could not summon resolution to sacrifice even affection 
 at its shrine. And so she nerved herself, to adopt Torque 
 mada s stern alternative, if indeed it were required. How 
 strange is self-delusion ! howdiflicult, even to the noblest, most 
 unselfish natures, to read another spirit by their own ! 
 Isabella felt it might be a duty to sacrifice affection for reli 
 gion, and nerved herself to its performance at any cost. 
 And yet that Marie should do so, she could not believe ; and 
 if she did, harshness and suffering were to be her sole reward ! 
 Oh, that in religion, as in every thing else, man would 
 judge his brother man by his own heart ; and as dear, as 
 precious, as his peculiar creed may be to him, believe so it is 
 with the faith of his brother ! How much of misery, how 
 much of contention, of cruelty and oppression, would pass 
 away from this lovely earth, and give place for Heaven s own 
 unity and peace, and harmony and love. 
 
216 
 
 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "Oh, bear me up 
 
 Against the unutterable tenderness 
 Of earthly love, my God ! In the sick hour 
 Of dying human hope, forsake me not !" 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 FOR some months all was gayety and rejoicing in Segovia, 
 not a little heightened by the exciting preparations for the 
 much desired war. The time had now come when Ferdinand 
 could, with safety to the internal state of his kingdom, com 
 mence the struggle for which he had so impatiently waited, 
 since the very first hour of the union of Arragon and Castile. 
 Troops were marshalling secretly all over Spain ; the 
 armorers and smiths were in constant requisition. The 
 nobles were constantly flitting from their hereditary domains 
 to the court, eager and active to combine all the pomp and 
 valor of a splendid chivalry with the more regular force ; 
 standing armies, which in almost every European land were 
 now beginning to take the place of the feudal soldiery, so 
 long their sole resource. It was necessary for Ferdinand, 
 ere he commenced operations, to visit his own dominions ; a 
 measure he did not regret, as it effectually concealed his 
 ulterior plans from the Moors, who were also at that time 
 too much disturbed by internal dissensions, to give more 
 than a cursory glance on the movements and appearances of 
 their Christian foes. 
 
 In the festivals of the palace the young Englishman was 
 naturally the hero of the day ; the best feelings of the Spanish 
 character had been called into play towards him : he had 
 been unjustly accused and seriously injured ; been subject 
 to dishonor and shame ; and many might say it had all 
 sprung from prejudice against him as a foreigner. The very 
 failing of the Spaniards in this case also operated in his 
 favor; their national jealousy called upon them to make 
 publicly manifest the falsity of such a supposition, and he 
 was courted and f6ted by all. brought forward on every occa- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 217 
 
 eion, and raised and promoted both to civil and military dis 
 tinction, by those very men who, before the late events, would 
 have been the first to keep him back, yielding him but the 
 bare and formal courtesy, which, however prejudiced, no true- 
 born Spaniard could refuse. 
 
 Amongst Isabella s female train, Arthur Stanley was 
 ever gladly welcomed, and his presence might have proved 
 dangerous to more than one of Isabella s younger attendants, 
 had not his manner been such as to preclude even the boldest 
 and most presuming from any thought of love. One alone 
 he certainly singled out to talk with, and treat with more 
 attention than any other ; and that one was the maiden we 
 have more than once had occasion to mention, Catherine Pas. 
 Rallied as she was by her companions, the young girl herself 
 imagined there could be no danger to her peace in associating 
 thus with the handsome young Englishman ; for she^ knew, 
 though her companions did not, the real reason of his pre 
 ference for her society. Isabella had once slightly hinted 
 from which of her attendants Stanley might hear of Marie, 
 and giving them permission to answer his queries. It was a 
 dangerous ordeal for Catherine, but she laughed at the idea 
 of permitting her heart to pass into the possession of one 
 who cared nothing for her, save as she could speak of Marie. 
 
 G-reat was the surprise and many the conjectures of the 
 Queen s female court, when rather more than six months 
 after her strange disappearance, the widow of Morales re 
 appeared amongst them ; not publicly indeed, for at the 
 various fetes and amusements of the palace, and elsewhere, 
 Marie was never seen. Her existence, however, and safety, 
 under Isabella s especial protection, were no longer kept 
 secret ; and her recent loss was in itself quite sufficient 
 reason for her strict retirement. Her identity with brother 
 Ernest, the supposed novice, never transpired ; he was sup 
 posed to have returned with Perez to his guardian, Father 
 Ambrose, who, though seen and questioned^ by Don Alonzo 
 at the village, did not accompany his dying penitent to 
 Segovia, nor, in fact, was ever seen in that city again. 
 
 The tender care and good nursing which had been lavished 
 
 on Marie, had restored her sufficiently to health as to permit 
 
 returning elasticity of mind. All morbid agony had passed, 
 
 all too passionate emotions were gradually relaxing theij 
 
 10 
 
218 
 
 fire-bands round her heart ; and strength, the martyr 
 strength, for which she unceasingly prayed, to give up all if 
 called upon for her God, seemed dawning for her. That 
 she was still under some restraint, a sort of prisoner in the 
 palace, Marie herself was not aware ; she had neither wish 
 nor energy to leave the castle, and therefore knew not that 
 her egress, save under watchful guardianship, would have 
 been denied. She had no spirits to mingie with the light- 
 hearted, happy girls, in her Sovereign s train, and therefore 
 was unconscious that, with the sole exception of Catherine 
 whose passionate entreaties had obtained her this privilege, 
 all intimacy with them would have been effectually prevented. 
 It was enough, more than enough (for the foreboding dread 
 was ever present, that such a blissful calm, such mental and 
 bodily repose, were far, far too sweet for any long continu 
 ance) to be employed in little services for and about the 
 person of the Queen, and to know that Arthur Stanley was 
 restored to even more than former favor, and fast rising to 
 eminence and honor. 
 
 Before the sovereigns quitted Segovia, Stanley left the 
 court to march southward with Pedro Pas, to occupy a strong 
 fortification on the barrier line, dividing the Spanish from 
 the Moorish territories, and commanding a very important 
 post, which Ferdinand was anxious to secure, and where he 
 intended to commence his warlike operations, as speedily as 
 he could settle affairs at Saragossa. Twice before Stanley s 
 departure did Isabella contrive an apparently accidental 
 meeting between him and Marie, permitting them, though in 
 her presence, ample opportunity for mutual explanation ; but 
 not with much evident success. Stanley, indeed, was pain 
 fully and visibly agitated, finding it difficult, almost impossi 
 ble to speak the feelings wihich had so long filled heart and 
 mind, and been in fancy so often thrown into eloquent words, 
 that he could not understand why in her presence words 
 were frozen up, and he could only feel. Marie s cheek and 
 lip had indeed blanched as she beheld him, but the deep and 
 quiet calm she had so earnestly sought, even then did not 
 forsake her ; once only her voice faltered, when she con 
 jured him to allude no longer to the past, that the exertions 
 she had made for him demanded no such gratitude as he ex 
 pressed. He would have answered with his usual passionate 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 219 
 
 impetuosity, but there was something in her manner which 
 restrained him ; it was no longer the timid, yielding girl, 
 who, even while she told him of the barrier between them, 
 had yet betrayed the deep love she felt: it was the woman 
 whose martyr spirit was her strength. And yet, spite of 
 himself, he hoped. Isabella, in parting with him, had spoken 
 such words as sent a thrill of delight over his whole being, 
 and he quitted Segovia buoyant and glad-hearted, to wait 
 weeks, months, he thought even years : so certain did he 
 feel of success at last. 
 
 Isabella accompanied Ferdinand to Arragon, and deter 
 mined on remaining at Saragossa during the commencement 
 of his Moorish campaign ; but she did not part from him 
 without demanding and receiving his solemn promise to 
 send for her as soon as the residence of females in the camp 
 was practicable. She well knew the inspiring power of her 
 presence in similar scenes, and the joy and increased ardor 
 which the vicinity of near and dear relations, composing her 
 court, would excite in the warrior camp of Ferdinand. The 
 promise was given, and the annals of the Moorish war tell 
 us how faithfully it was kept, and how admirably Isabella 
 performed the part she had assigned herself. 
 
 Months glided slowly and peacefully on ; as each passed, 
 the trembling heart of Marie foreboded change and sorrow ; 
 but it was not till she had been eight months a widow 
 that aught transpired which could account for such strange 
 fears. Then, indeed, the trial came : she thought she was 
 prepared, but the aching heart and failing strength with 
 which she listened to the Queen s commands, betrayed how 
 little our best endeavors can pave the way for sorrow. Isa 
 bella spoke gently and kindly indeed, but so decisively, 
 there was no mistaking the meaning of her words : she had 
 waited, she said, till time had restored not only health and 
 strength, but some degree of tranquillity to the heart, and 
 elasticity to the mind. That, as a Jewess, Marie must have 
 long known, the Queen could not continue favor ; that she 
 was, in fact, acting without a precedent in thus permitting 
 the attendance of an unbeliever on her person, or appear* 
 ance in her court ; but that she had so acted, believing that 
 when perfectly restored to sense and energy, Marie would 
 herself feel the necessity, and gladly embrace the only re- 
 
220 THE VALE OF CEDARS , 
 
 turn she required a calm deliberation of the Catholic faith, 
 and, as a necessary consequence, its acceptance. She there 
 fore desired that Marie would devote herself to the instruc 
 tions of a venerable monk (Father Denis by name), whom 
 she had selected for the task. That from that day Marie 
 would not be called upon for either service or attendance on 
 the Queen, but to devote her whole mind and energies to 
 the task proposed ; and that when Father Denis brought 
 her information that Marie accepted the cross, that very 
 hour she should resume her place in Isabella s court, and be 
 the dearest, most cherished there ! be publicly acknow 
 ledged as the inheritrix of her husband s vast possessions, 
 and a future of love and joy would shine before her, so 
 bright as to banish even the memories of the stormy past. 
 
 Marie would have replied, but Isabella, with gentle firm 
 ness, refused to hear her. " I demand nothing now," she 
 said, " but obedience. A willing heart, and open mind, are 
 all you need bring with you to your task : the father s holy 
 lessons, blessed with God s grace, will do the rest. I cannot 
 believe that all the kindness and affection I have shown have 
 been so utterly without effect, that thou too wilt evince the 
 ungrateful obstinacy, so unhappily the characteristic of thy 
 blinded people. If banishment from our presence be a 
 source of sorrow, which I do believe it is, the term of that 
 banishment rests entirely with thyself. The sooner we can 
 hail the child of the Virgin, even as thou art now of our 
 affections, the greater share of happiness wilt thou bestow 
 upon us and upon thyself. We have heard that nought but 
 harshness and severity can have effect on thy hardened race. 
 It may be, but with thee, at least, we will not use it, un 
 less " and her voice and her look grew sufficiently stern for 
 Marie to feel her words were no idle threat " unless obdu 
 racy and ingratitude so conquer affection that we can see no 
 more in the Marie Morales we have loved than a hardened 
 member of her own stiff-necked race ; then , but we will 
 not pain ourself or thee, by imagining what thine own will 
 may avert. Go, and the holy Virgin bless thee. Not a 
 word ; I know what will be thine answer now ; but a month 
 hence thou wilt thank me for this seeming severity." 
 
 And Isabella turned somewhat hastily away ; for her lip 
 quivered and her eye swelled. Marie did not see these in 
 dications of emotion, and silently withdrew. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " I have lost for that Faith more than thou canst bestow, 
 As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know. 
 In His hand is my heart, and my hope ; and in thine 
 The land, and the life, which for Him I resign." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 MARIE Morales had had many trials. Her life had been 
 one of those painful mysteries, as to why such a being should 
 have been thus exposed to scorn, which while on earth we 
 vainly try to solve. Yet it is no imaginary picture : hun 
 dreds, aye thousands, of Israel s devoted race have thus en 
 dured ; in every age, in every clime, have been exposed to 
 martyrdom not of the frame alone, but of the heart; 
 doomed but to suffer, and to die. And how may we recon 
 cile these things with the government of a loving father, 
 save by the firm belief, which, blessed thrice blessed are 
 those who feel ; that, for such sufferers on earth, a future of 
 blessedness is laid up in another and lovelier world where 
 there is no more sorrow, no more tears ! 
 
 Her former trials had been sharp agony and strong ex 
 citement. Her present had neither the one nor the other ; 
 yet it was fraught with as heavy suffering, as any that had 
 gone before it ; even though she knew not, guessed not, all 
 that depended upon her conversion. It would have been 
 comparatively easy to have endured, for her faith s sake, 
 harshness and contempt ; in such a case, self-respect rises to 
 sustain us, and we value our own tenets the more, from 
 their startling contrast with those which could command the 
 cruelty we endure ; but Father Denis used harshness nei 
 ther of manner nor of words. Firmly impressed in his own 
 mind, that it was utterly vain for a soul to hope for salva 
 tion unless it believed in Jesus, the Virgin, the saints and 
 holy martyrs, he brought heart and soul to his task ; and 
 the more he saw of Marie, the more painfully did he deplore 
 her blind infatuation, and the more ardently desire, to save 
 her from the eternal perdition which, as a Jewess, must 
 await her. He poured forth such soul-breathing petitions, 
 
222 THE VALE OF CEDARS ; 
 
 for saving grace to be vouchsafed to her, in her hearing, that 
 Marie felt as if she would have given worlds, only to realize 
 the belief for which he prayed ; but the more her heart was 
 wrung, the more vividly it seemed that her own faith, the 
 religion of her fathers through a thousand ages, impressed 
 itself upon her mind and heart, rendering it more and more 
 impossible for her to forswear it, even at the very moment 
 that weak humanity longed to do it, and so purchase peace. 
 Naturally so meek and yielding, so peculiarly alive to the 
 voice of sympathy and kindness, it was inexpressibly and 
 harrowingly distressing to be thus compelled to resist both ; 
 to think also of all Isabella s gentle, cherishing, and mani- 
 fested affection ; and to know that the only return she de 
 manded, she dared not, might not give. To some disposi 
 tions these considerations would have been of no weight 
 whatever ; to Marie they were so exquisitely painful, that 
 she could scarcely understand how it was that, feeling them 
 thus acutely, she could yet so clearly, so calmly, reply to 
 Father Denis, bring argument for argument, and never waver 
 in her steadfast adherence to, and belief in her own creed. 
 The very lessons of her youth, which she had thought for 
 gotten in the varied trials which had been her portion since, 
 returned with full she fancied superhuman force and 
 clearness to her mind, rendering even the very wish to em 
 brace the Catholic religion, futile. There was a voice with 
 in her that would be heard, aye above every human feeling, 
 every strong temptation. She could not drown its clear 
 ringing tones ; even where her mental sufferings seemed to 
 cloud and harrow up the brain, to the exclusion of every 
 distinct idea, that voice would breathe its thrilling whisper, 
 telling her it was vain to hope it, she could not be in heart a 
 Catholic ; and so she dared not be in words. 
 
 A romance is no place for polemical discussion, and we 
 will therefore leave those painful arguments unrecorded. 
 Suffice it, that Marie s intimate acquaintance with the Holy 
 Scriptures in their original tongue the language of her own 
 people gave her so decided an advantage over the old monk, 
 that, after nearly three months trial, he sought his Sove 
 reign, and, with the most touching humility, acknowledged 
 his utter incapacity, for the conversion of Donna Marie, and 
 implored her to dismiss him, and select one more fitted for 
 the task. 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 223 
 
 Astonished, and bitterly disappointed, Isabella cross- 
 questioned him as to the cause of this sudden feeling of inca 
 pacity, and his answers but increased her desire to compel Ma 
 rie to abandon Judaism, and become in semblance at least, 
 a Catholic ; believing fully that, this accomplished, the Holy 
 Spirit would do the rest, and she would at least have saved 
 her soul. She retained the father in the palace; desiring 
 him to inform his charge that one fortnight s grace would be 
 allowed her, to ponder on all the solemn truths he had ad 
 vanced, and on her own decision whether she would not 
 rather yield to kindness, than tempt the severity her obsti 
 nacy demanded ; but, save this enjoyment, he was to com 
 mune with her no further. "With a trembling spirit the 
 Queen again sought the counsel of her confessor, and re 
 ported the information of the holy father. Torquemada 
 listened, with a curling lip and contracted brow. He was 
 not surprised, he said, for it was exactly what he had expected. 
 It was a part of their blaspheming creed, to blind by sorcery, 
 the eyes and minds of all those who had ever attempted to 
 win them over by kind and reasonable argument. Father 
 Denis had been bewitched, as all were, who ever attempted 
 to convert, by other than the harshest means. Her grace 
 must see the necessity of severity, and surely could not 
 refuse the using it any longer. But Isabella did refuse, till 
 her last resource had been tried ; and all she asked was, if 
 she might hold forth a powerful temporal temptation to 
 obtain the end she so earnestly desired ? Torquemada hesi 
 tated ; but at length, on being told the severe alternative 
 which Isabella would enforce, if her first proposal were re 
 jected, reluctantly acceded; still persisting that nothing 
 but the rack and the flame, or fatal expulsion, would ever 
 purge Spain from the horrible infection of so poisonous a 
 race. Isabella heard him with a shudder ; but, thankful 
 even for this ungracious sanction, waited, with trembling im 
 patience, the termination of the given fourteen days ; hoping, 
 aye praying in her meek, fervid piety, that the mistaken one 
 might be softened to accept the proffered grace, or her own 
 heart strengthened to sacrifice all of personal feeling for the 
 purifying by fire and consequent salvation, of that immortal 
 soul now so fearfully led astray. 
 
 It was with little hope that the father again sought Marie. 
 
224 
 
 Bewitched he might be, but he was so impressed with tha 
 fervid earnestness of her gentle spirit ; with the lofty enthu 
 siasm that dictated her decision ; so touched with the uncom 
 plaining, but visible suffering, which it cost her to argue with ? 
 and reject the voice of kindness that it required a strong 
 mental effort in the old man, to refrain from conjuring his 
 Sovereign, to permit that misguided one to remain unmolest 
 ed, and wait, till time, and prayer, from those so interested 
 in her, should produce the desired effect. But this feeling 
 was so contrary to the spirit of the age, that it scarcely 
 needed Torquemada s representations to convince him, Uiat 
 he was experiencing the effect of the invisible sorcery with 
 which the race of Israel always blinded the eyes of their 
 opponents. The kind old man was awed and silenced by his 
 stern superior. Liberty of conscience was then a thing un 
 heard of ; and therefore it was, that so much of the divine 
 part of our mingled nature was so completely concealed, 
 that it lost alike effect or influence. It was not even the 
 subjection of the weak to the strong ; but the mere superi 
 ority of clerical rank. The truest and the noblest, the most 
 enlarged mind, the firmest spirit would bend unresistingly to 
 the simple word of a priest ; and the purest and kindest im 
 pulses of our holier nature be annihilated, before the dic 
 tates of those, who were supposed to hold so infallibly, in 
 their sole keeping, the oracles of God. The spiritual in man 
 was kept in rigid bondage ; the divinity worshipped by the 
 Catholics of that age, represented to the mass like the Egyp 
 tian idol, with a key upon his lips his attributes, as his law, 
 hid from them, or imparted by chosen priests, who explained 
 them only as suited their individual purposes. Is it marvel, 
 then, that we should read of such awful acts committed in 
 Religion s name by man upon his brother ? or that we should 
 see the purest and loveliest characters led away by priestly 
 influence to commit deeds, from which now, the whole mind 
 so recoils, that we turn away disappointed and perplexed at 
 the inconsistency, and refuse the meed of love and admira 
 tion to those other qualities, which would otherwise shine 
 forth so unsullied ? The inconsistency, the seeming cruelty 
 and intolerance, staining many a noble one in the middle 
 ages, were the effects of the fearful spirit of the time ; but 
 their virtues were their own. Truth if sought, must triumph 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 225 
 
 over prejudice. By inspection and earnest study of facts 
 of causes, as well as of events, the mind disperses the mists 
 of educational error, and enables us to do justice, even to 
 the injurer ; and enlarges and ennobles our feelings towards 
 one another ; till we can attain that perfection of true, 
 spiritual charity, which would look on all men as children of 
 one common parent. Liable, indeed, to be led astray by 
 evil inclination, and yet more by evil circumstances ; but 
 still our brethren, in the divine part of our nature ; which, 
 however crushed, hidden, lost to earth, is still existing still 
 undying. For such is the immortal likeness of our universal 
 Father ; in which He made man, and by which He marked 
 mankind as brethren ! 
 
 Marie s answer was as Father Denis feared. She had 
 pondered on all he had said, and the dread alternative 
 awaiting her ; but the impossibility of embracing Catholicism 
 was stronger than ever. The unfeigned distress of the old 
 monk pained and alarmed her, for it seemed to her as if he 
 were conscious that some dreadful doom was hanging over 
 her, which he shrunk from revealing. She had not long to 
 remain in that torturing suspense : a few hours later in the 
 same day, she was summoned to Isabella s presence. The 
 sensation of terror was so intense as to render obedience, 
 for the minute, utterly impossible. Every limb shook, and 
 again came the wild longing for power to believe as they 
 desired ; for a momentary cessation of the voice of conscience, 
 to embrace the proffered cross, and be at rest. But it would 
 not cease ; and, scarcely able to support herself, she stood 
 before the dread Princess in whose hand was her earthly 
 fate. 
 
226 THE VALE OF CEDARS 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " She clasped her hands ! the strife 
 Of love faith fear, and the vain dream of life, 
 Within her woman-heart so deeply wrought 
 It seemed as if a reed, so slight and weak, 
 Must, in the rending storm, not quiver only 
 break 1" 
 
 MRS. HEMAKS. 
 
 ISABELLA S expressive countenance was grave and calm ; but 
 it was impossible to doubt the firmness of her purpose, 
 though what that purpose might be, Marie had no power to 
 read. She stood leaning against the back of one of the 
 ponderous chairs ; her head bent down, and her heart so 
 loudly and thickly throbbing that it choked her very breath. 
 
 " We have summoned thee hither, Marie," the Queen 
 said at length, gravely, but not severely, " to hear from thine 
 own lips the decision which Father Denis has reported to us; 
 but which, indeed, we can scarcely credit. Wert thou other 
 than thou art one whose heavy trials and lovable qualities 
 have bound thee to us with more than common love we 
 should have delivered thee over at once to the judgment of 
 our holy fathers, and interfered with their sentence no far 
 ther. We are exposing ourselves to priestly censure even for 
 the forbearance already shown ; but we will dare even that, 
 to win thee from thine accursed creed, and give thee peace 
 and comfort. Marie canst thou share the ingratitude the 
 obstinacy of thy benighted race, that even with thee we 
 must deal harshly? Compel me not to a measure from 
 which my whole heart revolts. Do not let me feel that the 
 charge against thy people is true, without even one excep 
 tion, and that kindness shown to them, is unvalued as unfelt." 
 
 A convulsive sob was the sole reply. Marie s face was 
 buried in her hands ; but the tears were streaming through 
 her slender fingers, and her slight figure shook with the par 
 oxysm. 
 
 " Nay, Marie, we ask not tears. We demand the proof 
 of grateful affection on thy part ; not its weak display. And 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 227 
 
 what is that proof? The acceptance of a faith without which 
 there can be no security in this life, nor felicity hereafter ! 
 The rejection of a fearfully mistaken terribly accursed 
 creed ; condemning its followers to the scorn and hate of 
 man, and abiding wrath of God." 
 
 lit To the scorn and hate of man? Alas, gracious Sove 
 reign, it is even so ; but not to the abiding wrath of God, " 
 answered Marie, suppressing with a desperate effort, her pain 
 ful emotion. " The very scorn and loathing we encounter con 
 firms the blessed truth, of our having been the chosen children 
 of our God, and the glorious promise of our future restora 
 tion^ We are enduring now on earth the effects of the fear 
 ful sins of our ancestors ; but for those who live and die true 
 to His law, there is a future after death laid up with Him ; 
 that, how may we forfeit for transitory joy ?" 
 
 "If it^ were indeed so, we would be the last to demand 
 such forfeit," answered the Queen ; "but were it not for the 
 blinding veil of wilful rejection cast over the eyes and hearts 
 of thy people, thou wouldst know and feel, that however thy 
 race were once the chosen of God, the distinction has been 
 lost for ever, by their blaspheming rejection of Jesus and his 
 virgin mother ; and the misery its consequence on earth, 
 is but a faint type of that misery which is for everlasting. 
 It is from this we would save thee. Father Denis has brought 
 before thee the solemn truths which our sainted creed ad 
 vances, in reply to the mystifying fallacies of thine ; and, he 
 tells me, wholly without effect. My arguments, then, can be 
 of such little weight, that I have pledged myself to my con 
 fessor to attempt none. We summoned thee merely to tell 
 our decision in this matter ; of too vital importance to be left 
 to other lips. Once more let me ask and understand thee 
 rightly ! have all the Holy Father s lessons failed to con 
 vince, even as all our affection has failed to move, thee ?" 
 
 " Would would to Heaven I could believe as thou de- 
 mandest !" answered Marie. " Would that those lessons had 
 brought conviction ! The bitter agony of your Grace s dis 
 pleasure of feeling that, while my heart so throbs and swells 
 with grateful devotion that I would gladly die to serve thee, 
 yet the proof thou demandest I cannot give ; and I must go 
 down to an early grave, leaving with thee the sole impression 
 that thou hadst cherished a miserable ingrate, whom, even as 
 
228 THE VALE OF CbDARS ] 
 
 thou hast loved, so thou must now hate and scorn. Oh, ma 
 dam! try me by other proof! My creed maybe the mis 
 taken one it seems to thee ; but, oh ! it is no garment we 
 may wear and cast off at pleasure. Have mercy, gracious 
 Sovereign ! condemn me not as reprobate hardened more 
 insensible than the veriest cur, who is grateful for the kind 
 ness of his master ! because I love my faith better even than 
 thy love the dearest earthly joy now left me." 
 
 " Methinks scarcely the dearest," replied Isabella, affect 
 ed, in spite of her every effort for control ; " but of that hers 
 after. Marie, I have pledged myself to my confessor, not to 
 let this matter rest. He has told me that my very affection 
 for thee is a snare, and must be sacrificed if it interfere with 
 my duty ; not alone as member of Christ s church, but as 
 Sovereign of a Catholic realm, whose bounden duty it is to 
 purge away all heresy and misbelief. I feel that he is right, 
 and, cost what it may, Christ s dictates must be obeyed. 
 The years of fraud of passing for what thou wert not I 
 forgive, for thy noble husband s sake ; but my confessor has 
 told me, and I feel its truth, that if we allow thy return to 
 thy people as thou art now, we permit a continuance of such 
 unnatural unions, encourage fraud, and expose our subjects 
 to the poisonous taint of Jewish blood and unbelief. A 
 Christian thou must become. The plan we have decided 
 upon must bring conviction at last ; but it will be attended 
 with such long years of mental and physical suffering, that 
 we shrink from the alternative, and only thine own obstinacy 
 will force us to adopt it." 
 
 She paused for above a minute ; but though Marie s very 
 lips had blanched, and her large eyes were fixed in terror on 
 the Queen s face, there was no answer. 
 
 " Thou hast more than once alluded to death," Isabella 
 continued, her voice growing sterner ; " but, though such may 
 be the punishment demanded, we cannot so completely ban 
 ish regard as to expose thy soul, as well as body, to undying 
 flames. Thou hast heard, perchance, of holy sisterhoods, 
 who, sacrificing all of earthly joys and earthly ties, devote 
 themselves as the willing brides of Christ, and pass their 
 whole lives in acts of personal penance, mortification, self- 
 denial, and austerity ; which to all, save those impelled by 
 this same lofty enthusiasm, would be unendurable. T ^ 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 229 
 
 convent of St. Ursula is the most strictly rigid and unpity- 
 ing of this sternly rigid school ; and there, if still thou wilt 
 not retract, thou wilt be for life immured, to learn that reve 
 rence, that submission, that belief, which thou refusest now. 
 Ponder well on all the suffering which this sentence must 
 comprise. It is even to us a Christian -so dreadful, that 
 we would not impose it, could we save thy deluded spirit by 
 any other means. The Abbess, from the strict and terrible 
 discipline of long years, has conquered every womanly weak 
 ness ; and to a Jewess placed under her charge, to be brought 
 a penitent to the bosom of the Virgin, is not likely to de 
 crease the severity of treatment and discipline, the portion 
 even of her own. Once delivered to her charge, we interfere 
 no further. Whatever she may command short of actual 
 torture, or death thou must endure. Marie ! wilt thou 
 tempt a doom like this ? In mercy to thyself, retract ere it 
 be too late !" 
 
 " If I can bear the loss of thy favor, my Sovereign, I can 
 bear this," replied Marie, slowly and painfully. "There 
 is more suffering in the thought, that your Grace s love is 
 lost for ever ; that I shall never see your Highness more ; 
 and thou must ever think of me as only a wretched, feeling- 
 less ingrate, than in all the bodily and mental anguish such 
 a life may bring." 
 
 " Marie !" exclaimed Isabella, with an irrepressible burst 
 of natural feeling. And Marie had darted forwards, and was 
 kneeling at her feet, and covering her hand with tears and 
 kisses, ere she had power to forcibly subdue the emotion and 
 speak again. 
 
 " This must not be," she said at length ; but she did not 
 withdraw the hand which Marie still convulsively clasped, 
 and, half unconsciously it seemed, she put back the long, 
 black tresses, which had fallen over her colorless cheek, look 
 ed sadly in that bowed face, and kissed her brow. " It is 
 the last," she murmured to herself. " It may be the effects 
 of sorcery it may be sin ; but if I do penance for the weak 
 ness, it must have way." 
 
 " Thou hast heard the one alternative," she continued 
 aloud ; " now hear the other. We have thought long, and 
 watched well, some means of effectually obliterating the 
 painful memories of the past, and making thy life as happy 
 
23C THE VALE OF CEDARS ] 
 
 as it has been sad. We have asked and received permission 
 from our confessor to bring forward a temporal inducement 
 for a spiritual end ; that even the affections themselves may be 
 made conducive to turning a benighted spirit from the path of 
 death into that of life ; and, therefore, we may proceed more 
 hopefully. Marie ! is there not a love thou valuest even 
 more than mine ? Nay, attempt not to deny a truth, which 
 we have known from the hour we told thee that Arthur Stan 
 ley was thy husband s murderer. What meant those wild 
 words imploring me to save him ? For what was the avowal 
 of thy faith, but that thy witness should not endanger him ? 
 Why didst thou return to danger when safety was before 
 thee ? peril thine own life but to save his ? Answer me 
 truly : thou lovest Stanley, Marie ?" 
 
 " I have loved him, gracious Sovereign." 
 
 "And thou dost no longer? Marie, methinks there 
 would be less wrong in loving now, than when we first sus 
 pected it," rejoined the Queen, gravely. 
 
 " Alas ! my liege, who may school the heart ? He was 
 its first first affection ! But, oh ! my Sovereign, I never 
 wronged my noble husband. He knew it all ere he was taken 
 from me, and forgave and loved me still ; and, oh ! had he 
 been but spared, even memory itself would have lost its pow 
 er to sting. His trust, his love, had made me all all his 
 own ! 
 
 " I believe thee, my poor child ; but how came it that, 
 loving Stanley, thy hand was given to Morales ?" 
 
 For the first time, the dangerous ground on which she 
 stood flashed on the mind of Marie ; and her voice faltered 
 as she answered " My father willed it, Madam." 
 
 " Thy father ! And was he of thy faith, yet gave his child 
 to one of us ?" 
 
 " He was dying, Madam, and there was none to protect 
 his Marie. He loved and admired him to whom he gave me ; 
 for Ferdinand had never scorned nor persecuted us. He had 
 done us such good service that my father sought to repay 
 him ; but he would accept nothing but my hand, and swore 
 to protect my faith none other would have made such prom 
 ise. I was weak, I know, and wrong ; but I dared not then 
 confess I loved another. And, once his wife, it was sin even 
 to think of Arthur. Oh, Madam ! night and day I prayed 
 lat we might never meet, till all of love was conquered." 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 231 
 
 " Poor child," replied Isabella, kindly. " But, since thou 
 wert once more free, since Stanley was cleared of even 
 the suspicion of guilt, has no former feeling for him return 
 ed ! He loves thee, Marie, with such faithful love as in man 
 I have seldom seen equalled ; why check affection now ?" 
 
 " Alas ! my liege, what may a Jewess be to him ; or his 
 love to me, save as the most terrible temptation to estrange 
 me from my God ?" 
 
 " Say rather to gently lure thee to Him, Marie," replied 
 Isabella, earnestly. " There is a thick veil between thy heart 
 and thy God now ; let the love thou bearest this young Eng 
 lishman be the blessed means of removing it, and bringing 
 thee to the sole source of salvation, the Saviour Stanley wor 
 ships. One word one little word from thee, and thou 
 shalt be Stanley s wife ! His own ; dearer than ever from 
 the trials of the past. Oh ! speak it, Marie ! Let me feel I 
 have saved thee from everlasting torment, and made this life 
 in its deep, calm joy a foretaste of the heaven that, as 
 a Christian, will await thee above. Spare Stanley aye, and 
 thy Sovereign the bitter grief of losing thee for ever !" 
 
 " Would would I could !" burst wildly from the heart- 
 stricken Marie ; and she wrung her hands in that one mo 
 ment of intense agony, and looked up in the Queen s face, 
 with an expression of suffering Isabella could not meet. 
 " Would that obedience, conviction, could come at will ! His 
 wife? Stanley s. To rest this desolate heart on his? To 
 weep upon his bosom ? feel his arm around me ? his love 
 protect me ? To be his all his 1 And only on condition 
 of speaking one little word 1 Oh ! why can I not speak it ? 
 Why will that dread voice sound within, telling me I dare 
 not cannot for I do not believe? How dare I take the 
 Christians s vow, embrace the cross, and in my heart remain 
 a Jewess still?" 
 
 " Embrace the cross, and conviction will follow," replied 
 the Queen. " This question we have asked of Father Tomas, 
 and been assured that the vows of baptism once taken, 
 grace will be found from on high ; and to the heart, as well 
 as lip, conversion speedily ensue. Forswear the blaspheming 
 errors of thy present creed consent to be baptized and 
 that very hour sees thee Stanley s wife !" 
 
 u No, no, no ! Oh ! say not such words again ! My liege, 
 
232 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 my gracious liege, tempt not this weak spirit more !" im 
 plored Marie, in fearful agitation. " Oh ! if thou hast ever 
 loved me, in mercy spare me this !" 
 
 " In mercy is it that we do thus speak, unhappy girl." re 
 plied Isabella, with returning firmness ; for she saw the de 
 cisive moment had come. u We have laid both alternatives 
 before thee ; it rests with thee alone to make thine own 
 election. Love on earth and joy in Heaven, depends upon 
 one word : refuse to speak it, and thou knowest thy doom !" 
 
 It was well, perhaps, for Marie s firmness, that the 
 Queen s appealing tone had given place to returning severi 
 ty ; it recalled the departing strength the sinking energy 
 the power once more to endure I For several minutes there 
 was no sound : Marie had buried her face in her hands, .and 
 remained half kneeling, half crouching on the cushion at 
 the Queen s feet, motionless as stone ; and Isabella inter 
 nally as agitated as herself was, under the veil of unbending 
 sternness, struggling for control. The contending emotions 
 sweeping over that frail woman-heart in that fearful period 
 of indecision we pretend not to describe : again and again the 
 terrible temptation came, to say but the desired word, and 
 happiness was hers such intense happiness, that her brain 
 reeled beneath its thought of ecstasy ; and again and again 
 it was driven back by that thrilling voice louder than ever 
 in its call to remain faithful to her God. It was a fearful 
 contest ; and when she did look up, Isabella started ; so ter 
 ribly was its index inscribed on those white and chiselled 
 features. 
 
 She rose slowly, and stood before the Sovereign, her hands 
 tightly clasped together, and the veins on her forehead raised 
 like cords across it. Three times she tried to speak ; but 
 only unintelligible murmurs came, and her lips shook as 
 with convulsion. " It is over," she said at length, and her 
 usually sweet voice sounded harsh and unnatural. " The 
 weakness is conquered, gracious Sovereign, condemn, scorn, 
 hate me as thou wilt, thou must : I must endure it till my 
 heart breaks, and death brings release ; but the word thou 
 demandest I cannot speak ! Thy favor, Arthur s love, I re 
 sign them all ! Tis the bidding of my God, and he will 
 strengthen me to bear it. Imprison, torture, slay, with the 
 lingering misery of a broken heart, but I cannot deny my 
 faith !" 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 
 
 Disappointed, grieved, as she was at this unexpected re 
 ply Isabella was too much an enthusiast in religion herself 
 not to understand the feeling which dictated it ; and much 
 as she still abhorred the faith, the martyr spirit which could 
 thus immolate the most fervid, the most passionate emotions 
 of woman s nature at the shrine of her God, stirred a sym 
 pathetic chord in her own heart, and so moved her, that the 
 stern words she had intended to speak were choked within 
 
 " We must summon those then to whose charge we are 
 pledged to commit thee," she said with difficulty ; and hasti 
 ly rung a silver bell beside her. _ "We had hoped such would 
 not have been needed ; but, as it is J 
 
 She paused abruptly; for the hangings were hastily 
 pushed aside, and, instead of the stern figure of Torquemada, 
 who was to have obeyed the signal, the Infanta Isabella 
 eagerly entered ; and ran up to the Queen, with childish and 
 caressing glee at being permitted to rejoin her. The con 
 fessornot imagining his presence would be needed, or that 
 he would return to his post in time had restlessly obeyed 
 the summons of a brother prelate, and, in some important 
 clerical details, forgot the mandate of his Sovereign. 
 
 Marie saw the softened expression of the Queens 
 face- the ineffectual effort to resist her child s caresses, 
 and retain her sternness : and, with a sudden impulse, she 
 threw herself at her feet. 
 
 " Oh ! do not turn from me, my Sovereign ! she 
 implored, wildly clasping Isabella s knees. "I ask 
 nothing nothing, but to return to my childhoods 
 home, and die there ! I ask not to return to my people ; 
 they would not receive me, for I have dared to love the 
 stranger ; but in my own isolated home, where but two aged 
 retainers of my father dwell, I can do harm to none mingle 
 with none ; let me bear a breaking heart for a brief brief 
 while ; and rest beside my parents. I will swear to thee 
 never to quit that place of banishment swear never more to 
 mingle with either thy people or with mine to be as much 
 lost to man, as if the grave had already closed over me, or 
 convent walls immured me! Oh, Madam! grant me but 
 this ! Will it not be enough of suffering to give up Arthur ? 
 to tear myself from thy cherishing love? to bear my 
 
234 THE VALE OF CEDARS) 
 
 misery alone? Leave me, oh ! leave me but my faith the 
 sole joy, sole hope, now left me ! Give me not up to the harsh 
 and cruel father the stern mother of St. Ursula ! If I can 
 sacrifice love, kindness all that would make earth a heaven 
 will harshness gain thine end ? Plead for me," she con 
 tinued, addressing the infant-princess, who, as if affected by 
 the grief she beheld, had left her mother to cling round 
 Marie caressingly ; " plead for me, Infanta ! Oh, Madam ! 
 the fate of war might place this beloved and cherished one 
 in the hands of those who regard thy faith even as thou dost 
 mine ; were such an alternative proffered, how wouldst thou 
 she should decide ? My Sovereign, my gracious Sovereign, 
 oh, have mercy !" 
 
 " Mamma ! dear Mamma !" repeated the princess at the 
 same moment, and aware that her intercession was required, 
 though unable to comprehend the wherefore, she clasped her 
 little hands entreatingly ; " grant poor Marie what she 
 wishes ! You have told me a Queen s first duty is to be 
 kind and good ; and do all in her power to make others 
 happy. Make her happy, dear Mamma, she has been so 
 sad !" 
 
 The appeal to Isabella s nature was irresistible ; she 
 caught her child to her heart, and burst into passionate 
 tears. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " I will have vengeance ! 
 
 I ll crush thy swelling pride ! I ll still thy vaunting ! 
 I ll do a deed of blood ! 
 
 Now all idle forms are over 
 Now open villany, now open hate- 
 Defend thy life !" 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 " Let me but look upon her face once more 
 Let me but say farewell, my soul s beloved, 
 And I will bless thee still." 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 SOME time had elapsed since King Ferdinand and his splendid 
 army had quitted Saragossa. He himself had not as yet head- 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 235 
 
 ed any important expedition, but fixing his head-quarters at 
 Seville, dispatched thence various detachments under experi 
 enced officers, to make sallies on the Moors, who had already 
 enraged the Christian camp by the capture of Zahara. Arthur 
 Stanley was with the Marquis of Cadiz, when this insult was 
 ably avenged by the taking of Albania, a most important post, 
 situated within thirty miles of the capital. The Spaniards 
 took possession of the city, massacred many of the inhabit 
 ants, placed strong restrictions on those who surrendered, and 
 strongly garrisoned every tower and fort. Nor were they 
 long inactive : the Moors resolved to retake what they con 
 sidered the very threshold of their capital ; hastily assembled 
 their forces, and regularly entered upon the siege. 
 
 While at Seville, the camp of Ferdinand had been joined 
 by several foreign chevaliers, amongst whom was an Italian 
 knight, who had excited the attention and curiosity of many 
 of the younger Spaniards from the mystery environing him. 
 He was never seen without his armor. His helmet always 
 closed, keeping surlily aloof, he never mingled in the brilliant 
 jousts and tournaments of the camp, except when Arthur 
 Stanley chanced to be one of the combatants : he was then 
 sure to be found in the lists, and always selected the young 
 Englishman as his opponent. At first this strange pertina 
 city was regarded more as a curious coincidence than actual 
 design ; but it occurred so often, that at length it excited 
 remark. Arthur himself laughed it off, suggesting that the 
 Italian had perhaps some grudge against England, and 
 wished to prove the mettle of her sons. The Italian deigned 
 no explanation, merely saying that he supposed the Spanish 
 jousts were governed by the same laws as others, and he was 
 therefore at liberty to choose his own opponent. But Arthur 
 was convinced that some cause existed for this mysterious 
 hostility. Not wishing to create public confusion, he con 
 tended himself by keeping a watch upon his movements. 
 He found, however, that he did not watch more carefully 
 than he was watched, and incensed at length, he resolved on 
 calling his enemy publicly to account for his dishonorable 
 conduct. This, however, he found much easier in theory 
 than practice. The wily Italian, as if aware of his intentions, 
 skilfully eluded them ; and as weeks passed without any re 
 currence of their secret attacks, Stanley, guided by his own 
 
frank and honorable feelings, believed his suspicions ground 
 less, and dismissed them altogether. On the tumultuary en 
 trance of the Spaniards, however, these suspicions were re-ex 
 cited. Separated by the press of contending warriors from 
 the main body of his men, Stanley plunged headlong into the 
 thickest battalion of Moors, intending to cut his way through 
 them to the Marquis of Cadiz, who was at that moment en 
 tering the town. His unerring arm and lightness of move 
 ment bore him successfully onward. A very brief space 
 divided him from his friends : the spirited charger on which 
 he rode, cheered by his hand and voice, with one successful 
 bound cleared the remaining impediments in his way, but at 
 that moment, with a piercing cry of suffering, sprung high in 
 the air and fell dead, nearly crushing his astonished master 
 with his weight. Happily for Stanley, the despairing anguish 
 of vhe Moors at that moment at its height, from the triumph 
 ant entry of the Spaniards into their beloved Alhama, aggra 
 vated by the shrieks of the victims in the unsparing slaughter, 
 effectually turned the attention of those around him from his 
 fall. He sprung up, utterly unable to account for the death 
 of his steed : the dastard blow had been dealt from behind, 
 arid no Moor had been near but those in front. . He looked 
 hastily round him: a tall figure was retreating through the 
 thickening meUe, whose dull, red armor, and deep, black 
 plume, discovered on the instant his identity. Arthur s 
 blood tingled with just indignation, and it was with difficulty 
 that he restrained himself from following, and demanding 
 on the instant, and at the sword s point, the meaning of the 
 deed. 
 
 The sudden start, and muttered execration of the Italian, 
 as Stanley joined the victorious group around the Marquis, 
 convinced him that his reappearance, and unhurt, was quite 
 contrary to his mysterious enemy s intention. The exciting 
 events of the siege which followed, the alternate hope and 
 fear of the Spaniards, reduced to great distress by the Moors 
 having succeeded in turning the course of a river which 
 supplied the city with water, and finally, the timely arrival 
 of succors under the Duke of Medina Sidonia, which com 
 pelled the Moors to raise the siege and disperse the rejoic 
 ing attendant on so great and almost unexpected a triumph, 
 all combined to prevent any attention to individual concerns. 
 
OR. THE MARTYR. 237 
 
 The Italian had not crossed Arthur s path again, except in 
 the general attack or defence ; and Stanley found the best 
 means of conquering his own irritation towards such secret 
 machinations, was to treat them with indifference and con 
 tempt. 
 
 The halls of Alhama were of course kept strongly manned; 
 and a guard, under an experienced officer, constantly occu 
 pied the summit of a lofty tower, situated on a precipitous 
 neight which commanded a view of the open country for 
 miles, and overlooked the most distant approach of the 
 Moors. As was usual to Moorish architecture, the tcwer 
 nad been erected on a rock, which on one side shelved down 
 so straight and smooth, as to appear a continuance of the 
 tower-wall, but forming ./rom the battlements a precipice 
 some thousand feet in depth. The strongest nerve turned 
 sick and giddy to look beneath, and the side of the tower 
 overlooking it was almost always kept unguarded. 
 
 It was near midnight when Stanley, who was that night 
 on command, after completing his rounds, and perceiving 
 every sentinel on duty, found himself unconsciously on the 
 part of the tower we have named. So pre-occupied was his 
 mind, that he looked beneath him without shrinking; and 
 then retracing his steps some twenty or thirty yards from the 
 immediate and unprotected edge, wrapped his mantle closely 
 round him, and lying down, rested his head on his arm, and 
 permitted the full dominion of thought. He was in that 
 dreamy mood, when the silence and holiness of nature is so 
 much more soothing than even the dearest sympathy of man ; 
 when er^ry passing cloud and distant star, and moaning 
 wind, speaks with a hundred tongues, and the immaterial 
 spirit holds unconscious commune with beings invisible, and 
 immaterial as itself. Above his head, heavy clouds floated 
 over the dark azure of the heavens, sometimes totally ob 
 scuring the mild light of the full moon ; at others merely 
 shrouding her beams in a transparent veil, from which she 
 would burst resplendently, sailing majestically along, seem 
 ing the more light and lovely from the previous shade. One 
 brilliant planet followed closely on her track, and as the 
 dark masses of clouds would rend asunder, portions of the 
 heavens, studded with glittering stars, were visible, seeming 
 like the gemmed dome of some mighty temple, whose walls 
 
238 
 
 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 and pillars, shrouded in black drapery, were lost in the dis 
 tance on either side. Gradually, Stanley s thoughts became 
 indistinct ; the stars seemed to lose their radiance, as covered 
 by a light mist ; a dark cloud appearing, in his half dormant 
 fancy, to take the gigantic proportions of a man, hovered on 
 the battlement. It became smaller and smaller, but still it 
 seemed a cloud, through which the moonlight gleamed ; but 
 a thrill passed through him, as if telling of some impalpable 
 and indefinable object of dread. With a sudden effort he 
 shook off the lethargy of half sleep, and sprung to his feet, at 
 the very moment a gleaming sword was pointed at his throat. 
 " Ha, villain ! at thy murderous work again !" he exclaimed, 
 and another moment beheld him closed in deadly conflict 
 with his mysterious foe. A deep and terrible oath, and then 
 a mocking laugh, escaped his adversary ; and something in 
 those sounds, nerved Stanley s arms with resistless power : 
 he was sure he could not be mistaken, and he fought, not 
 with the unguarded desire of one eager to obtain satisfaction 
 for personal injury but he was calm, cool, collected, as 
 threefold an avenger. For once, the demon-like caution of 
 the supposed Italian deserted him : discovery was inevitable, 
 and his sole aim was to compass the death of the hated 
 foreigner with his own. He tried gradually to retreat to 
 the very edge of the precipice, and Stanley s calm and cau 
 tious avoidance of the design lashed him into yet fiercer 
 desperation. Thick and fast, fell those tremendous blows. 
 The Italian had the advantage in height and size, Stanley in 
 steady coolness and prudent guard ; the Italian sought only 
 to slay his adversary, caring not to defend himself; Arthur 
 evidently endeavored merely to unhelm the traitor, and 
 bring him but slightly wounded to the ground. For several 
 minutes there was no cessation in that fearful clash of steel ; 
 the strokes were so rapid, so continued, a hundred combat 
 ants might have seemed engaged. A moment they drew 
 back, as if to breathe ; the Italian, with a despairing effort, 
 raised his weapon and sprung forwards ; Arthur lightly 
 leaped aside, and the murderous stroke clove but the yield 
 ing earth. Another second, and ere the Italian had regained 
 his equilibrium, Arthur s sword had descended with so true 
 and sure a stroke that the clasp of the helmet gave way, the 
 dark blood bubbled up from the cloven brow, he reeled and 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 239 
 
 fell ; and a long, loud shout from the officers and soldiers, 
 who, at the sound of arms, had flocked round, proclaimed 
 some stronger feeling than simply admiration of Stanley s 
 well-known prowess. 
 
 " Seize him ! seize him ! or by Heaven he will escape us 
 yet !" were among the few words intelligible. " The daring 
 villain, -to come amongst us ! Did he think for ever \o elude 
 Heaven s vengeance ? Bind, fetter, hold him ; or his assist 
 ant fiends will release him still !" 
 
 Fiercely the fallen man had striven to extricate hin,self ; 
 but Stanley s knee moved not from his breast, nor his sword 
 from his throat, until a strong guard had raised and sur 
 rounded him : but the horrible passions imprinted on those 
 lived features were such, that his very captors turned away 
 shuddering. 
 
 " Hadst thou not had enough of blood and crime, thou 
 human monster, that thou wouldst stain thy already blacken 
 ed soul with another midnight murder ?" demanded Stanley, 
 as he sternly confronted his baffled foe. " Don Luis Garcia, 
 as men have termed thee, what claim have I on thy pursu 
 ing and unchanging hate ? With what dost thou charge me ? 
 What wrong ?" 
 
 " Wrong !" hoarsely and fiercely repeated Don Louis. 
 " The wrong of baffled hate ; of success, when I planned thy 
 downfall ; of escape, when I had sworn thy death ! Did the 
 drivelling idiots, who haunted, persecuted, excommunicated 
 me from these realms, as some loathed reptile, dream that I 
 would draw back from my sworn vengeance for such as they? 
 Poor, miserable fools, whom the first scent of danger would 
 turn aside from the pursuit of hate ! I staked my life on 
 thine, and the stake is lost ; but what care I ? My hate shall 
 follow thee ; wither thy bones with its curse ; poison every 
 joy ; blight every hope ; rankle in thy life blood f Bid thee 
 seek health, and bite the dust for anguish because it flies 
 thee ! And for me. Ha, ha ! Men may think to judge me 
 torture, triumph, slay! Well, let them." And with a 
 movement so sudden and so desperate, that to avert it was 
 impossible, he burst from the grasp of his guards ; and with 
 one spring, stood firm and triumphant on the farthest edge 
 of the battlement. " Now follow me who dares !" he ex 
 claimed; and, with a fearful mocking laugh, flung himself 
 
240 THE VALE OF CEDARS j 
 
 headlong down, ere the soldiers had recovered his first sud 
 den movement. Stanley alone retained presence of mind 
 sufficient to dart forward, regardless of his own imminent 
 danger, in the vain hope of arresting the leap : but quick as 
 were his movements, he only reached the brink in time to 
 see the wretched man, one moment quivering in air, and lost 
 the next in a dark abyss of shade. 
 
 A cry of mingled disappointment, horror, and execration, 
 burst from all around ; and several of the soldiers hastened 
 from the battlements to the base of the rock, determined on 
 fighting the arch-fiend himself, if, as many of them firmly 
 believed, he had rendered Don Luis invulnerable to air, and 
 would wait there to receive him. But even this heroic reso 
 lution was disappointed : the height was so tremendous, and 
 the velocity of the fall so frightful, that the action of the air 
 had not only deprived him of life, but actually loosed the limbs 
 from the trunk, and a fearfully mangled corpse was all that 
 remained to glut the vengeance of the infuriated soldiers. 
 
 The confusion and excitement attending this important 
 event, spread like wildfire ; not only over Alhama, but reach 
 ing to the Duke s camp without the city. To send off the 
 momentous information to the King, was instantly decided 
 upon; and young Stanley, as the person principally con 
 cerned, selected for the mission. 
 
 Ferdinand was astonished and indignant, and greatly 
 disappointed that justice had been so eluded ; but that such 
 a monster, whose machinations seemed, in their subtlety and 
 secrecy, to prevent all defeat, no longer cumbered Spain, was 
 in itself a relief so great both to monarch and people, as after 
 the first burst of indignation to cause universal rejoicings. 
 
 It so happened that Ferdinand had been desirous of 
 Stanley s presence for some weeks ; letters from Isabella, 
 some little time previous, had expressed an earnest desire for 
 the young man s return to Saragossa. if only for a visit of a 
 few days. This was then impossible. Three months had 
 elapsed since Isabella s first communication ; within the last 
 two she had not again reverted to Stanley; but the King, 
 thinking she had merely refrained from doing so, because of 
 its present impossibility, gladly seized the opportunity of his 
 appearance at Seville, to dispatch him, as envoy extraordi 
 nary, on both public and private business, to the court of 
 Arragon. 
 
OR, 
 
 241 
 
 Isabella was surrounded by her ministers and nobles 
 when Stanley was conducted to her presence ; she received 
 him with cordiality and graciousness, asked many and eager 
 questions concerning her husband and the progress of his 
 arms, entered minutely into the affair of Don Luis, congrat 
 ulated him on his having been the hand destined to unmask 
 the traitor and bring him low ; gave her full attention on 
 the instant to the communications from the King, with which 
 he was charged ; occupied some hours in earnest and 
 thoughtful deliberation with her counsel, which, on perusal 
 of the King s papers, she had summoned directly. And yet, 
 through all this, Arthur fancied there was an even unusual 
 degree of sympathy and kindliness in the tone and look with 
 which she addressed him individually ; but he felt intuitive 
 ly it was sympathy with sorrow, not with joy. He was COL 
 vinced that his unexpected presence had startled and almost 
 grieved her ; and why should this be, if she had still the 
 hope with which she had so infused his spirit, when they had 
 parted. His heart, so full of elasticity a few hours previous, 
 sunk chilled and pained within him, and it was with an effort 
 impossible to have been denied, had it not been for the 
 Queen s unspoken but real sympathy; he roused himself 
 sufficiently to execute his mission. 
 
 But Isabella was too much the true and feeling woman, 
 to permit the day to close without the private interview she 
 saw Stanley needed ; reality, sad as it was, she felt would 
 be better than harrowing suspense ; and, in a fe\t kindly 
 words, the tale was told. 
 
 " I should have known it !" he exclaimed, when the first 
 shock of bitter disappointment permitted words. " My own 
 true, precious Marie ! How dared I dream that for me thou 
 wouldst sacrifice thy faith ; all, all else joy, hope, strength ; 
 aye, life itself but not thy God ! Oh, Madam," he contin 
 ued, turning passionately to the Queen, " thou hast not con 
 demned her to misery for this ! Thou hast not revoked thy 
 former heavenly mercy, and delivered her over to the stern 
 fathers of our holy church? No, no! Isabella could not 
 have done this !" 
 
 Nor have we," replied the Queen, so mildly that Arthur 
 flung himself at her feet, conjuring her to pardon his disre 
 spectful words. " G-ive her to thee, without retracting hey 
 11 
 
242 THE VALE OF CEDARS , 
 
 fearful misbelief, indeed we dared not, but further miserj 
 has not been inflicted. We have indeed done penance for 
 our weakness, severe penance ; for Father Tomas asserts that 
 we have most grievously sinned ; and more, have pledged 
 ourselves most solemnly, that what he may counsel for the 
 entire uprooting of this horrible heresy, and accursed race, 
 shall be followed, cost what it may, politically or privately ; 
 but to refuse the last boon of the unhappy girl, who had so 
 strangely, perchance so bewilderingly, wound herself about 
 my heart Stanley, I must have changed my nature first !" 
 
 " Her last boon ! Gracious Sovereign " 
 
 " Nay, her last to her Sovereign, my friend. It may be 
 that even yet her errors may be abjured, and grace be 
 granted in her solitude, to become in this world as the next, 
 what we have prayed for ; but we dare not hope it ; nor 
 must thou. She besought permission to return to the home 
 of her childhood, pledging herself never to leave it, or min 
 gle with her people or ours more." 
 
 " And she is there ! God in Heaven bless, reward your 
 Highness for the mercy !" burst impetuously from Arthur. 
 
 " I trust she is, nay, I believe it ; for Jewess as she is, 
 she would not pledge me false. In the garb of the novice, 
 as she saved thee, Father Denis conducted her to the fron 
 tiers of Castile. More we know not, for we asked not the site 
 of her home." 
 
 There was a few minutes pause, and then, with beseech 
 ing eloquence, Arthur conjured the Sovereign to let him see 
 her once, but once again. He asked no more, but he felt as 
 if he could not sustain the agony of eternal separation, with 
 out one last, last interview. He pledged his honor, that no 
 temptation of a secret union should interfere with the sen 
 tence of the Queen ; that both would submit ; only to permir 
 them once more to meet again. 
 
 Isabella hesitated, but not for long. Perhaps the secret 
 hope arose that Stanley s presence would effect that for which 
 all else had failed; or that she really could not resist his 
 passionate pleadings. 
 
 " One word of retraction, and even now she is thine. 
 And I will bless thee that thou gavest her to me again," she 
 said in parting ; but her own spirit told her the hope was 
 vain. 
 
OR, THE MARTY!!. 243 
 
 Half an hour after this agitating interview Arthur Stan 
 ley was again on horseback, a deep hectic on either cheek ; 
 his eye bloodshot and strained, traversing with the speed of 
 lightning the open country, in the direction of Castile. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 " Oh ! love, love, strong as death from such an hour 
 Pressing out joy by thine immortal power ; 
 Holy and fervent love ! Had earth but rest 
 For thee and thine, this world were all too fair : 
 How could we thence be weaned to die without despair ! 
 
 "But woe for him who felt that heart grow still 
 
 Which with its weight of agony had lain 
 Breaking on his. Scarce could the mortal chill 
 
 Of the hushed bosom, ne er to heave again, 
 And all the curdling silence round the eye, 
 Bring home the stern belief that she could die." 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 THE glowing light of a glorious sunset lingered on the Vale 
 of Cedars, displaying that calm and beautiful retreat in all 
 the fair and rich luxuriance of former years. Reuben and 
 Ruth, the aged retainers of the house of Henriquez, had 
 made it their pride and occupation to preserve the cherished 
 retreat, lovely as it had been left. Nor were they its only 
 inmates ; their daughter, her husband, and children, afte^ 
 various struggles in the Christian world, had been settled in 
 the Vale by the benevolence of Ferdinand Morales their 
 sole duty, to preserve it in such order, as to render it a 
 fitting place of refuge for any who should need it. Within 
 the last twelve months, another inmate had been added to 
 them, Weary of his wanderings, and of the constant 
 course of deception which his apparent profession of a monk 
 demanded, Julien Morales had returned to the home of his 
 childhood, there to fix his permanent abode ; only to make 
 such excursions from it, as the interests of his niece might 
 demand. Her destiny was his sole anxious thought. Her 
 
244 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 detention by Isabella convinced him that her disguise had 
 been penetrated, and filled him with solicitude for her spir 
 itual, yet more than her temporal welfare. Royal protection 
 of a Jewess was so unprecedented, that it could only argue 
 the hope nay, perhaps conviction of her final conversion. 
 And the old man actually tried to divorce the sweet image 
 of his niece from his affections, so convinced was he that her 
 unhappy love for Arthur, combined with Isabella s authority, 
 nnd, no doubt, the threat of some terrible alternative should 
 she refuse, would compel her acceptance of the proffered 
 cross, and so sever them for ever. How little can man, even 
 the most gentle and affectionate, read woman ! 
 
 It was the day completing the eleventh month after Don 
 Ferdinand s murder, when Julien Morales repaired earlier 
 than usual to the little temple, there to read the service for 
 the dead appointed for the day, and thence proceeded to his 
 nephew s grave. An unusual object, which had fallen on, or 
 was kneeling beside the grave, caught his eye, and impelled 
 him to quicken his pace. His heart throbbed as he recog 
 nized the garb of a novice, and to such a degree as almost to 
 deprive him of all power, as in the white, chiselled features, 
 resting on the cold, damp sod, he recognized his. niece, and 
 believed, for the first agonizing moment, that it was but clay 
 resting against clay ; and that the sweet, pure spirit had 
 but guided her to that grave and flown. But death for a 
 brief interval withdrew his grasp ; though his shaft had 
 reached her, and no human hand could draw it back. Father 
 Denis had conducted her so carefully and tenderly to the 
 frontiers of Castile, that she had scarcely felt fatigue, and en 
 countered no exposure to the elements ; but when he left her, 
 her desire to reach her home became stronger, with the seem 
 ing physical incapacity to do so. Her spirit gave way, and 
 mental and bodily exhaustion followed. The season was unu 
 sually damp and tempestuous, and, though scarcely felt at the 
 time, sowed the seeds of cold and decline, from which her na 
 turally good constitution might, in the very midst of her trials, 
 otherwise have saved her. Her repugnance to encounter the 
 eyes or speech of her fellows, lest her disguise should be pe 
 netrated, caused her to shrink from entering any habitation, 
 except for the single night which intervened, between the pe 
 riod of the father s leaving her and her reaching the secret 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 245 
 
 entrance to the Vale. Her wallet provided her with more 
 food than her parched throat could swallow; and for the 
 consuming thirst, the fresh streams that so often bubbled 
 across her path, gave her all she needed. The fellowship of 
 man, then, was unrequired. and. as the second night fell, so 
 comparatively short a distance lay between her and her 
 home, that buoyed up by the desire to reach it, she was not 
 sensible of her utter exhaustion, till she stood within the lit 
 tle graveyard of the Yale ; and the moon shining softly and 
 clearly on the headstones, disclosed to her the grave of her 
 husband. She was totally ignorant that he had been borne 
 there ; and the rush of feeling which came over her, as she 
 read his name the memories of their happy, innocent, child 
 hood, of all his love for her that had he been but spared, all 
 the last year s misery might have been averted, for she would 
 have loved him, ay, even as he loved her ; and he would 
 have guarded, saved so overpowered her, that she had sunk 
 down upon the senseless earth which covered him, conscious 
 only of the wild, sickly longing, like him to flee away and be 
 at rest. She had reached her home ; exertion no longer 
 needed, the unnatural strength ebbed fast, and the frail tene 
 ment withered, hour by hour, away. Arid how might Julien 
 mourn ! Her work on earth was done. Young, tried, frail 
 as she was, she had been permitted to show forth the glory, 
 the sustaining glory, of her faith, by a sacrifice whose mag 
 nitude was indeed apparent, but whose depth and intensity 
 of suffering, none knew but Him for whom it had been made. 
 She had been preserved from the crime if possible more 
 fearful in the mind of the Hebrew than any other apos- 
 tacy : and though the first conviction, that she was indeed 
 " passing away" even from his affection, was fraught with ab 
 solute anguish, yet her uncle could not, dared not. pray for 
 life on earth. And in the peace, the calm, the depth of qui 
 etude which gradually sunk on her heart, infusing her every 
 word and look and gentle smile, it was as if her spirit had 
 already the foretaste of that blissful heaven for which its 
 wings were plumed. As the frame dwindled, the expression 
 of her sweet face became more and more unearthly in its 
 exquisite beauty, the mind more and more beatified, and the 
 heart more freed from earthly feeling. The reward of her 
 constancy appeared in part bestowed on earth, for death it 
 
246 THE VALE OF CEDARS J 
 
 self was revealed to her not as the King of Terrors, but as 
 an Angel of Light, at whose touch the lingering raiment of 
 mortality would dissolve, and the freed soul spring up re 
 joicing to its home. 
 
 It was the Feast of the Tabernacle and the Sabbath eve. 
 The tent formed of branches of thick trees and fragrant 
 shrubs was erected, as we have seen it in a former page, a 
 short distance from the temple. Marie s taste had once again 
 been consulted in its decorations ; her hand, feeble as it was, 
 had twined the lovely wreaths of luscious flowers and arranged 
 the glowing fruit. With some difficulty she had joined in the 
 devotional service performed by her uncle in the little tem 
 ple borne there in the arms of old Reuben, for her weak 
 ness now prevented walking and on the evening of the Sab 
 bath in the Festival, she reclined on one of the luxurious 
 couches within the tent, through the opening of which, she 
 could look forth on the varied beauties of the Yale, and the 
 rich glorious hues dyeing the western skies. The Sabbath 
 lamps were lighted, but their rays were faint and flickering 
 in the still glowing atmosphere. A crimson ray from the 
 departing luminary gleamed through the branches, and a 
 faint glow either from its reflection, or from that deceivin, 
 beauty, which too often gilds the features of the dying- 
 rested on Marie s features, lighting up her large and lus 
 trous eyes with unnatural brilliance. She had been speak 
 ing earnestly of that life beyond the grave, belief in which 
 throughout her trials had been her sole sustainer. Julien 
 had listened, wrapt and almost awe-struck, so completely did 
 it seem as if the spirit, and not the mortal, spoke. 
 
 "And thine own trials, my beloved one," he said, "Has 
 the question never come, why thou shouldst thus have been 
 afflicted?" 
 
 " Often, very often, my father, and only within the last 
 few weeks has the full answer come ; and I can say from my 
 inmost heart, in the words of Job, It is good that I have 
 been afflicted/ and that I believe all is well. While on earth, 
 we must be in some degree of earth, and bear the penalty of 
 our earthly nature. The infirmities and imperfections of 
 that nature in others, as often as in ourselves, occasion hu 
 man misery, which our God, in his infinite love, permits, to 
 try our spirit s strength and faith, and so prepare us for that 
 
Oil, THE MAKTYll. 247 
 
 higher state of being, in which the spirit will move and act, 
 when the earthly shell is shivered, and earthly infirmities 
 are for ever stilled. In the time of suffering we cannot think 
 thus ; but looking back as I do now when the near vicinity 
 of another world bids me regard my own past life almost as 
 if it were another s I feel it in my inmost heart, and bless 
 God for every suffering which has prepared me thus early 
 for his home. There is but one feeling, one wish of earth 
 remaining," she continued, after a long pause of utter ex 
 haustion. " It is weak, perhaps, and wrong ; but if if Ar 
 thur could but know that fatal secret which made me seem 
 a worse deceiver than I was I know it cannot be, but it so 
 haunts me. If I wedded one Christian, may he not think 
 there needed not this sacrifice sacrifice not of myself, but 
 
 of his happiness. Oh ! could I but Hush ! whose step 
 
 is that ?" she suddenly interrupted herself ; and with the 
 effort of strong excitement, started up, and laid her hand on 
 her uncle s arm. 
 
 " Nay, my child, there is no sound," he replied soothing 
 ly, after listening attentively for several moments. 
 
 " But there is. Hark, dost thou not hear it now ? G-od 
 of mercy ! thou hast heard my prayer it is his !" she ex 
 claimed, sinking powerlessly back, at the moment that even 
 Julien s duller ear had caught a rapid step ; and in another 
 minute the branches were hastily pushed aside, and Stanley 
 indeed stood upon the threshold. 
 
 " Marie and thus !" he passionately exclaimed ; and 
 flinging himself on his knees beside her, he buried his face 
 
 on her hand, and wept in agony. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Nearly an hour passed ere Marie could rally from the 
 agitation of Arthur s unexpected presence sufficiently to 
 speak. She lay with her hand clasped in his, and his arm 
 around her realizing, indeed, to the full, the soothing con 
 solation of his presence, but utterly powerless to speak that 
 for which she had so longed to see him once again. The ex 
 tent of her weakness had been unknown till that moment 
 either to her uncle or herself, and Julien watched over her in 
 terror lest the indefinable change which in that hour of still 
 ness was perceptibly stealing over her features should be in 
 deed the dim shadow of death. To Arthur speech was 
 
248 THE VALE OF CEDARS) 
 
 equally impossible, save in the scarcely articulate expressions 
 of love and veneration which he lavished on her. What he 
 had hoped in thus seeking her he could not himself have de 
 fined. His whole soul was absorbed in the wild wish to see 
 her again, and the thoughts of death for her had never en 
 tered his heart. The shock, then, had been terrible, and to 
 realize the infinite mercy which thus bade sorrow coase, was 
 in such a moment impossible. He could but gaze and clasp 
 her closer and closer, yet, as if even death should be averted 
 by his love. 
 
 " Uncle Julien," she murmured, as she faintly extended 
 her hand towards him, " thou wilt not refuse to clasp hands 
 with one who has so loved thy Marie ! And thou, Arthur, oh ! 
 scorn him not. Without him the invisible dungeons of the 
 Inquisition would have been my grave, and thine that of a 
 dishonored knight and suspected murderer;" 
 
 The eyes of her companions met, and their hands were 
 grasped in that firm pressure, betraying unity of feeling, and 
 reciprocal esteem, which need no words. 
 
 " Raise me a little, dearest Arthur ; uncle Julien, put 
 back that spreading bough. I would say something more, 
 and the fresher air may give me strength. Ah ! the evening 
 breeze is so fresh and sweet ; it always makes me feel as if 
 the spirits of those we loved were hovering near us. We 
 hold much closer and dearer communion with the beloved 
 dead in the calm twilight than in the garish day. Arthur, 
 dearest, thou wilt think of me sometimes in an hour like 
 this." 
 
 " When shall I not think of thee ?" he passionately re 
 joined. " Oh, Marie, Marie ! I thought separation on earth 
 the worst agony that could befall me ; but what what is it 
 compared to the eternal one of death ?" 
 
 " No, no, not eternal, Arthur. In heaven I feel there is 
 no distinction of creed or faith ; we shall all love God and 
 one another there, and earth s fearful distinctions can never 
 come between us. I know such is not the creed of thy peo 
 ple, nor of some of mine ; but when thou standest on the 
 verge of eternity, as I do now, thou wilt feel this too." 
 
 " How can I gaze on thee, and not believe it ?" he re* 
 plied. " The loudest thunders of the church could not shake 
 my trust in the purity of heaven, which is thine." 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 24* 
 
 " Because thou lovest, Arthur. Thy love for Marie is 
 stronger than thy hatred of her race ; and, oh ! if thou lovest 
 thus, I know thou hast forgiven." 
 
 " Forgiven !" he passionately reiterated. 
 
 " Yes, dearest Arthur. Is the past indeed so obliterated 
 that the wrong I did thee is forgotten even as forgiven 1 But, 
 oh, Arthur ! it was not so unjustifiable as it seemed then. 
 I dared not breathe the truth in Isabella s court. I dare 
 not whisper it now save to thee, who would die rather than re 
 veal it. Arthur, dearest Arthur, it was no Christian whom 
 I wedded. We had been betrothed from early childhood, 
 though I knew it not ; and when the time came, I could not 
 draw down on me a father s curse, or dash with agony a heart 
 that so cherished, so loved me, by revelation of a truth which 
 could avail me nothing, and would bring him but misery. 
 Ferdinand was my cousin a child of Israel, as myself." 
 
 " Now heaven bless thee for those words, my own, true 
 precious Marie !" exclaimed Stanley, in strong emotion, and 
 clasping her still closer, he pressed his quivering lips to her 
 forehead, starting in agony as he marked the cold, damp 
 dews which had gathered upon it, too truly the index of de 
 parting life. He besought her to speak no more the exer 
 tion was exhausting her ; she smiled faintly, drank of the re 
 viving draught which Julien proffered, and lay for a few mi 
 nutes calm and still. 
 
 " I am better now," she said, after an interval. " It was 
 only the excitement of speaking that truth, which I have so 
 long desired to reveal to clear my memory from the caprice 
 and inconstancy with which even thy love must have charged 
 me ; and now, Arthur, promise me that thou wilt not mourn 
 me too long : that thou wilt strive to conquer the morbid 
 misery, which I know, if encouraged, will cloud thy whole life, 
 and unfit thee for the glorious career which must otherwise 
 be thine. Do not forget me wholly, love, but deem it not a 
 duty to my memory never to love again. Arthur, dearest, 
 thou canst bestow happiness on another, and one of thine 
 own faith, even such happiness as to have been thy wife would 
 have given me. Do not reject the calm rest and peaceful- 
 ness, which such love will bring to thee, though now thou 
 feelest as if the very thought were loathing. She will speak 
 to tbee of me ; for Jewess as she knew me. she has loved and 
 11* 
 
250 
 
 tended me in suffering, and so wept my banishment, that my 
 frozen tears had well nigh flowed in seeing hers. Seek her 
 in Isabella s court, and try to love her, Arthur if at first 
 merely for my sake, it will soon, soon be for her own." 
 
 Impressively and pleadingly, these words fell on Arthur s 
 aching heart, even at that moment when he felt to comply 
 with them was and must ever be impossible. When time 
 had done its work, and softened individual agony, they re 
 turned again and yet again ; and at each returning, seemed 
 less painful to obey. 
 
 " And Isabella, my kind, loving, generous mistress," she 
 continued, after a very long pause, and her voice was so faint 
 as scarcely to make distinguishable the words, save for the still 
 lingering sweetness, and clearness of her articulation " Oh ! 
 what can I say to her ? Arthur, dearest Arthur, thou must 
 repay the debt of gratitude I owe her. Her creed condemns, 
 but her heart loves me aye, still, still ! And better (though 
 she cannot think so) than had I for earthly joy turned traitor 
 to my God. Oh, tell her how with my last breath I loved 
 and blessed her, Arthur ; tell her we shall meet again, where 
 Jew and Gentile worship the same God ! Oh that I could 
 
 but have proved proved How suddenly it has grown 
 
 dark ! Uncle Julien, is it not time for the evening prayer ?" 
 
 And her lips moved in the wordless utterance of the 
 prayer for which she had asked, forgetting it had some time 
 before been said; and then her head sunk lower and lower 
 on Arthur s bosom, and there was no sound. Twilight lin 
 gered, as loth to disappear, then deepened into night, and the 
 silver lamps within the tents brighter and more brightly il 
 lumined the gloom ; but Arthur moved not, suppressing even 
 his breath, lest he should disturb that deep and still repose. 
 It was more than an hour ere Julien Morales could realize 
 the truth, and then he gently endeavored to unclasp Arthur s 
 almost convulsive hold, and with kindly force to lead him 
 from the couch. The light of the lamp fell full upon that 
 sweet, sweet face ; and, oh ! never had it seemed so 
 lovely. The awful stillness of sculptured repose was in 
 deed there ; the breath of life and its disturbing emotions 
 had passed away, and nought but the shrine remained. 
 But like marble sculptured by God s hand, that sweet face 
 gleamed seeming, in its perfect tracery, its heavenly repose, 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 251 
 
 to whisper even to the waves of agony, " Be still my spirit 
 
 is with God !" 
 
 ****** * * * 
 
 Julien Morales and Arthur Stanley the aged and the 
 young the Jewish recluse and Christian warrior knelt 
 side by side on the cold earth, which concealed the remains 
 of one to both so inexpressibly dear. The moonlit shrubs 
 and and spangled heaven alone beheld their mutual sorrow, 
 and the pale moon waned, and the stars gleamed paler and 
 pttler in the first gray of dawn ere that vigil was concluded. 
 And then both arose and advanced to the barrier wall ; the 
 spring answered to the touch, and the concealed door flew 
 back. The young Christian turned, and was folded to the 
 heart of the Jew. The blessing of the Hebrew was breathed 
 in the ear of the Englishman, and Stanley disappeared. 
 
 Oh, love ! thou fairest, brightest, most imperishable type 
 of heaven ! what to thee are earth s distinctions ? Alone in 
 thy pure essence thou standest, and every mere earthly feel 
 ing crouches at thy feet. And art thou but this world s 
 blessing? Oh! they have never loved who thus believe. 
 Love is the voice of God, Love is the rule of Heaven ! As 
 one grain to the uncounted sands, as one drop to the unfath- 
 omed depths is the love of earth to that of heaven ; but 
 when the mortal shrine is shivered, the minute particle will 
 re-unite itself with its kindred essence, to exist unshadowed 
 and for ever. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 " Why then a final note prolong, 
 Or lengthen out a closing song, 
 Unless to bid the gentles speed 
 Who long have listened to my rede 7" 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 THE fickle sun of " merrie England " shone forth in unusual 
 splendor ; and, as if resolved to bless the august ceremony 
 on which it gazed, permitted not a cloud to shadow the lus 
 trous beams, which darted their floods of light through the 
 
252 THE VALE OF CEDARS; 
 
 gorgeous casements of "Westminster Abbey, in whose sacred 
 precincts was then celebrating the bridal of the young heir 
 of England, with a fair and gentle daughter of Spain. It 
 was a scene to interest the coldest heart not for the state 
 and splendor of the accoutrements, nor the high rank of the 
 parties principally concerned, nor for the many renowned 
 characters of church, state, and chivalry there assembled 5 it 
 was the extreme youth and touching expression, impressed 
 on the features, of both bride and bridegroom. 
 
 Neither Arthur, Prince of Wales, nor Catherine. Infanta 
 of Arragon, had yet numbered eighteen years, the first fresh 
 season of joyous life ; but on neither countenance could be 
 raced the hilarity and thoughtlessness, natural to their age. 
 The fair, transparent brow of the young Prince, under which 
 the blue veins could be clearly seen, till lost beneath the 
 rich chesnut curls, that parted on his brow, fell loosely on 
 either shoulder ; the large and deep blue eye, which was ever 
 half concealed beneath the long, dark lash, as if some untold 
 languor caused the eyelid to droop so heavily ; the delicate 
 pink of his downless cheek, the brilliant hue on his lips, even 
 his peculiar smile, all seemed to whisper the coming ill, that 
 one so dear to Englishmen would not linger with, them to 
 fulfil the sweet promise of his youth. 
 
 Beauty is, perhaps, too strong a word to apply to the 
 youthful bride. It was the pensive sadness of her mild and 
 pleasing features that so attracted natural enough to her 
 position in a strange land, and the thoughts of early seve 
 rance from a mother she idolized, but recalled some twenty 
 years afterwards as the dim shadow of the sorrowing future, 
 glooming through the gay promise of the present. And there, 
 too, was Prince Henry, then only in his twelfth year, bearing 
 in his flashing eye and constantly varying expression of brow 
 and mouth, true index of those passions which were one day 
 to shake Europe to the centre ; and presenting in his whole 
 appearance a striking contrast to his brother, and drawing 
 around him, even while yet so young, the hottest and wildest 
 spirits of his father s court, who, while they loved the person, 
 scorned the gentle amusements of the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Henry the Seventh and his hapless consort, Elizabeth of 
 York, were, of course, present the one rejoicing in the con 
 clusion of a marriage for which he had been in treaty the 
 
OR, THE MARTYR. 
 
 last seven years, and which was at last purchased at the cost 
 of innocent blood ; the other beholding only her precious 
 son, whose gentle and peculiarly domestic virtues, were her 
 sweetest solace for conjugal neglect and ill-concealed dislike. 
 
 Amongst the many noble Spaniards forming the imme 
 diate attendants of the Infanta, had been one so different in 
 aspect to his companions as to attract universal notice ; and 
 not a few of the senior noblemen of England had been ob 
 served to crowd round him whenever he appeared, and evince 
 towards him the most marked and pleasurable cordiality. 
 His thickly silvered hair and somewhat furrowed brow bore 
 the impress of some five-and-fifty years ; but a nearer exami 
 nation might have betrayed, that sorrow more than years, 
 had aged him, and full six, or even ten years might very well 
 be substracted from the age which a first glance supposed 
 him. Why the fancy was taken that he was not a Spaniard 
 could not have been very easily explained ; for his wife was 
 the daughter of the famous Pedro Pas, whose beauty, wit, 
 and high spirits were essentially Spanish, and was the In 
 fanta s nearest and most favored attendant ; and he himself 
 was constantly near her person, and looked up to by the 
 usually jealous Spaniards as even higher in rank and im 
 portance that many of themselves. How, then, could he be 
 a foreigner ? And marvel merged into the most tormenting 
 curiosity, when, on the bridal day of the Prince of Wales, 
 though he still adhered to the immediate train of the Prin 
 cess, he appeared in the rich and full costume of an English 
 Peer. The impatience of several young gallants could hardly 
 by restrained even during the ceremony ; at the conclusion 
 of which they tumultuously surrounded Lord Scales, declar 
 ing they would not let him go, till he had told them who and 
 what was this mysterious friend : Lord Scales had headed 
 a gallant band of English knights in the Moorish war, and 
 was therefore supposed to know every thing concerning 
 Spain, and certainly of this Anglo-Spaniard, as ever since 
 his arrival in England they had constantly been seen to 
 gether. He smiled good-humoredly at their importunity, 
 and replied 
 
 " I am afraid my friend s history has nothing very mar 
 vellous or mysterious in it. His family were all staunch 
 Lancastrians, and perished either on the field or scaffold ; he 
 
254 
 
 escaped almost miraculously, and after a brief interval of 
 restless wandering, went to Spain and was treated with such 
 consideration and kindness by Ferdinand and Isabella, that 
 he has lived there ever since, honored and treated in all 
 things as a child of the soil. On my arrival, I was struck 
 by his extraordinary courage and rash disregard of danger, 
 and gladly hailed in him a countryman. I learned after 
 wards that this reckless bravery had been incited by a wish 
 for death, and that events had occurred in his previous life, 
 which would supply matter for many a minstrel tale." 
 
 "Let us hear it, let us hear it !" interrupted many eager 
 voices, but Lord Scales laughingly shook his head. 
 
 u Excuse me, my young friends: at present I have neither 
 time nor inclination for a long story. Enough that he loved, 
 and loved unhappily ; not from its being unreturned, but 
 from a concatenation of circumstances and sorrows which 
 may not be detailed." 
 
 " But he is married ; and he is as devoted to Donna 
 Catherine as she is to hito. I heard they were proverbial 
 for their mutual affection and domestic happiness. How could 
 he so have loved before ?" demanded, somewhat skeptically, 
 a very young man. 
 
 " My good friend, when you get a little older, you will 
 cease to marvel at such things, or imagine, because a man has 
 been very wretched, he is to be for ever. My friend once 
 felt as you do (Lord Scales changed his tone to one of im 
 pressive seriousness) ; but he was wise enough to abide by 
 the counsels of the beloved one he had lost, struggle to shake 
 off the sluggish misery which was crushing him, cease to wish 
 for death, and welcome life as a solemn path of usefulness 
 and good, still to be trodden, though its flowers might have 
 faded. Gradually as he awoke to outward things, and sought 
 the companionship of her whom his lost one had loved, he 
 became sensible that, spiritless as he had thought himself, 
 he could yet, did he see fit, win and rivet regard ; and so he 
 married, loving less than he was loved, perchance at the tim 
 but scarcely so now. His marriage, and his present happi 
 ness, are far less mysterious than his extraordinary interfer 
 ence in the event which followed the conquest of the Moors 
 I mean the expulsion of the Jews." 
 
 " By the way, what caused that remarkable edict ?" de- 
 
Oil, THE MARTYR. 255 
 
 manded one of the circle more interested in politics than in 
 individuals. "It is a good thing indeed to rid a land of such 
 vermin ; but in Spain they had so much to do with the suc 
 cessful commerce of the country, that it appears as impolitic 
 as unnecessary." 
 
 " Impolitic it was, so far as concerned the temporal 
 interests of the kingdom ; but the sovereigns of Spain 
 dcided on it, from the religious light in which it was placed 
 before them by Torquemada. It is whispered that Isabella 
 would never have consented to a decree, sentencing so many 
 thousands of her innocent subjects to misery and expulsion, 
 had not her confessor worked on her conscience in an unusual 
 manner ; alluding to some unprecedented favor shown to one 
 of that hated race, occasioned, he declared, by those arts of 
 magic which might occur again and yet again, and do most 
 fatal evil to the land. Isabella had, it appears, when re 
 proached by Torquemada for her act of mercy, which he 
 termed weakness, pledged herself, not to interfere with his 
 measures for the extermination of the unbelief, and on this 
 promise of course he worked, till the edict was proclaimed." 
 
 a But this stranger, what had he to do with it?" demanded 
 many of the group, impatient at the interruption. 
 
 " What he had to do with it I really cannot tell you, but 
 his zeal to avert the edict lost him, in a great measure the 
 confidence of Ferdinand. When he found to prevent their 
 expulsion was impossible, he did all in his power to lessen 
 their misfortune, if such it may be called, by relieving every 
 unbeliever that crossed his path." 
 
 An exclamation of horrified astonishment escaped his 
 auditors. " What could such conduct mean ? did he lean 
 towards unbelief himself " 
 
 " That could hardly be," replied Lord Scales. Unless 
 he had been a Catholic, earnest and zealous as herself, 
 Isabella would never have so esteemed him, as to give him 
 as wife her especial favorite, Catherine Pas, and place him 
 so near the person of her child. When I left Spain, I en 
 treated my friend to accompany me, and resume his heredi 
 tary title and estate, but I pleaded in vain. Some more than 
 common tie seemed to devote him to the interests of the 
 Queen of Castile, whom he declared he would never leave 
 unless in England he could serve her better than in Spain. 
 
256 THE VALE OF CEDARS j 
 
 At that time there was no chance of such au event. He no\v 
 tells me, that it was Isabella s earnest request that he should 
 attend the Princess ; be always near her, ind so decrease 
 the difficulties, which in a foreign land must for a time sur 
 round her. The Queen is broken in health, and dispirited, 
 from many domestic afflictions ; and it was with tears, she 
 besought him to devote his remaining years, to the service of 
 her child, and be to the future Queen of England true, faithful, 
 and upright, as he had ever been to the Queen of Spain. Need 
 I say the honorable charge was instantly accepted, and while 
 he resumes his rank and duties as a Peer of his native land, 
 the grateful service of an adopted son of Spain will ever bo 
 remembered and performed." 
 
 " But his name, his name ?" cried many eager voices. 
 
 " ARTHUR STANLEY, EARL OF DERBY." 
 
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