be given away to a personfor whom he knew she could feel scarce the slightest regard. The countreceived him with cordiality, introducing him to the numerous members ofthe Tavora family, who were there assembled to do honour to the marriageof the heir to the rank and dignities of the head of their haughtyhouse.
The marchioness, Donna Leonora, we have already mentioned, a lady yetretaining many marks of her past beauty. She was of a proud andimperious temper, dividing her thoughts between aims for the yet furtheraggrandisement of her family, and what she considered her religiousduties; indeed, by her active and intriguing disposition, she wascalculated to succeed in undertakings which others of her sex would haveconsidered impracticable; obstacles only serving with her to increasethe ardour of her pursuit.
The marquis, her husband, was a man of dignified and noble carriage, butvery different from her in disposition, being of an amiable and gentletemper, yielding his opinion, alas! too much to her guidance. Theirsecond son, Don Joze, a youth yet scarcely nineteen, was celebrated asmuch for the beauty of his person, as for the elegance of his manner,and for his honourable and noble disposition; and he at once gained thegood opinion of Luis, which afterwards ripened into sincere friendship.
We do not intend to describe the ceremony, which, in the Romish Church,is of short duration. Not a tear was shed by the bride as her fathergave her away, but there was a tremulous motion on her lips, and her eyebore a distracted and pained impression, which it wrung Luis's heart tosee; and no sooner had he performed the duties required of him, than,without waiting for the feast prepared for the guests, he hastened fromthe palace, and mounting his horse, desired Pedro to return home, whilehe endeavoured to dissipate his melancholy feelings by exercise.
He was, at first, doubtful which way to turn his horse's head; but therewas an attraction he could not resist, to wander beneath the walls whichconfined her on whom all his affections had centred; though she might beconcealed from his view, yet he remembered a long line of gratedwindows, through which he had, at times, seen many a young and lovelyface gazing on the bright world without, like a bird from its cage, asif longing for liberty; and some latent hope there was in his breastthat Clara, too, might be tempted by the beauty of the morning toendeavour to inhale the free air of heaven from her prison windows, thenearest approach to liberty she was doomed to enjoy.
The moment this idea occurred to him, he urged on his steed as fast ashe could venture to proceed over the ill-paved and rugged streets, tillhe arrived near the Convent of Santa Clara; he then, slackening hispace, rode under its lofty walls, gazing up anxiously at each window ashe passed, but she whom he sought appeared not. Twice had he passed,and he began to despair of seeing her, fearful also that his remainingthere might attract observation and suspicion on himself, when, like abright light in the black obscurity of the midnight sky, at one of thehitherto dark windows, towards which his eyes were turned, appeared afemale form.
A lover's sight was not to be deceived: his heart beat with rapture, ashe beheld his beloved Clara; nor was she slow, as her glance fell on thestreet beneath, in recognising him who had not been absent from herthoughts since they parted. She dared not speak, even could her voicehave been heard; but her gaze convinced him that his presence caused herno displeasure. Neither could tear themselves away from the spot theyoccupied; yet, alas! it was the nearest interview they could hope toenjoy. For some minutes they remained regarding each other with looksof fond affection, when, on a sudden, the docile animal Luis rodesnorted and neighed loudly, and then trembled violently. A deep lownoise was heard, like carriage wheels passing at a distance; itincreased, as if a thousand chariots were rushing by, shaking the earthby their impetuous course. Clara uttered a shriek of terror; for shebeheld her lover's steed dash furiously onward, to escape from thedreaded approach of impending ruin. The ill-omened sounds increased.His rider in vain checked him with the rein--the animal uttered a cry ofagony, and rearing high in the air, as if struck by a shot in the chest,fell backward with him to the ground. Luis, now in front of theprincipal entrance to the convent, was uninjured; and, disengaginghimself, from his fallen steed, which, rising, galloped madly away, heturned towards the gateway of the building. Again that dread-inspiringconvulsion wrenched the solid ground. Shrieks and cries of terror roseon every side. The great gates were thrown open, and crowds of nunswere seen issuing forth, in the wildest confusion and despair, flyingthey knew not whither, the hopes of self-preservation urging themonward, thoughtless of all they left behind; and from the door of theadjacent church, a like panic-struck mass were rushing forward--men,women, and children--the wealthy and the poor--the noble and thebeggar--ladies in their silken robes, and priests in their sacerdotalvestments, in one confused concourse, all trying to pass each other; theaged and the feeble overthrown and trampled on by the young andvigorous. But the implacable spirit of destruction made no distinctionbetween age or sex, strength or weakness; none could withstand the vastmasses of masonry which came hurtling on their heads; some few escapedunscathed amid the tremendous shower, but every moment fresh hundredslay crushed beneath the superincumbent ruins. But Luis, where was heamid the wild uproar and confusion? One only object, one thought filledhis imagination. Clara, his own beloved, was within those totteringwalls! Could he save her? Not an instant's idea of self-preservationcrossed his mind. He flew, as he rose from the ground, towards thegate. His eye ranged over the affrighted countenances of the recluses,but she was not among them. It was impossible she could have reachedthe entrance in time. He endeavoured to urge his way among them, toenter the house of destruction, but none stayed him to ask whither hewent. He cried forth Clara's name, but no one could understand oranswer him. A fair girl came flying past him, shrieking with fear: avast stone fell from the gateway, and, in an instant, that lovely formlay, crushed beneath it, a shapeless mass. He stayed not in his course;but, as he rushed on, "Oh God!" he cried, "such might be Clara's fate!"His bosom seemed bursting with his dreadful feelings: he shrieked, buthis voice appeared choked, and without strength. The Father Confessorpassed, followed by the Lady Abbess, for whom he stayed not, though,with cries, she implored him to aid her; yet both escaped, and thankedHeaven their righteousness had saved them, while two innocent girlsshared the destiny of the former. Luis looked not behind him at theirfate; far more terrible dangers were before him, and she whom he soughtwas in the midst of them! Words cannot paint the horrors whichsurrounded him; and with far greater rapidity did he rush onward thanthe time we must take to describe his progress. He, at length, brokehis way past the affrighted females, and terror-stricken monks, whoimpeded his course; but the strength with which his eagerness to proceedinspired him, was even greater than that which their fear gave to thelatter; and, triumphing over all obstacles, he reached a largequadrangle, on the right of which appeared a broad staircase, which heknew must lead in the direction where Clara had been. Was she therenow? He stayed not to reckon chances. Love gave him the instinct ofthe Indian to traverse the trackless desert: he hesitated not a momentto consider the path he was to take; for all his thoughts and energieswere concentrated on one point, to discover the spot where Clara was tobe found. He flew up the stone steps, which yet stood firm, thoughbroad fissures appeared in the walls on each side; he traversed, withthe speed of the frighted deer, a long corridor, leaping over many achasm already formed in the floor, the ceiling, at every step, fallingin on him from above; the ends of the stout beams bending down,threatening instant destruction, as their supports, giving way, wereleaning towards the street. His breathing was nearly stopped by theexertion, and by the clouds of dust which surrounded him, and which alsoobscured his sight; yet on he rushed, when, in an instant, his energieswere paralysed; the blood forsook his heart; a female form lay beforehim--oh, Heavens! was it Clara? He stooped down. No, no, that mangledshape could not be hers. A deep wound was in the temple, the fair hairwas clotted with blood--he dared not give another glance. No, no, itcould not have been her--those, surely, were the robes
of a nun. Hefled onward; he felt confident that he must have reached theneighbourhood of the window beneath which he had remained gazing at her.Another corridor led him to the right; a door stood open--he rushedin--the roof had given way, but he leaped over the intervening rubbish.Within a deep recess of solid masonry was a window, but he saw no onethere. It could not be his judgment which guided him; for, at thatawful time, 'twere vain to suppose human judgment could be exercised, orcould avail aught. Yet some power drew him on--that inscrutable, thatmagnetic influence which attracts two souls together--that all-pervadinginstinct of love!
He paused not till he reached the window. His hopes had not deceivedhim. Sunk on the ground, her fair head resting against the stonewindow-seat, he beheld the beloved object of his search. He raised herup--he clasped her in his arms. "Oh, Luis! is he safe?" she whispered,as her head sunk on his
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