THE young girl, faint and tired, sunk into a corner of the carriage. The two female attendants took their seats opposite her, and they drove off. The road from Aranjuez to Madrid was long, dusty, and wearisome. Nevertheless, it was crowded with people who were all bound for the same place; some in carriages, and others on horseback, many of them wearing the king's livery. Ministers, ambassadors, and elegant cavaliers, with their suites of pages, grooms, and valets, passed our youthful traveller on their way to the great city.

"Santa Maria! one would think there was some grand procession to-day, there is such a motley crowd on the roads of Aranjuez," said one of the duennas, putting her head out of the window on her side.

"All these people are returning from the CountDake's levee," replied the other; "the greatest signor in Spain thinks it an honour to pay court to him. He is more king than the king himself."

"In his late majesty's reign the grandees did not thus haunt the ante-chamber of the Prime Minister. See, there goes the Duke of Arcos, with his attendants; he has not been of the king's hunting party, neither has the Marquis of Penafiel, nor the Count de Montollano, nor a great many others, who are only to be seen in the apartments of the Count-Duke. Even the Medina Sidonias are amongst his most assiduous courtiers."

At the sound of this name the stranger, who had appeared to be asleep, started, and turning deadly pale, asked in a voice, tremulous with deep emotion, "If the Duke de Sidonia was at the court?"

"Yes, madam; the Duke seldom leaves the state, where he rules like a viceroy; and more absolutely -God pardon me-than the king himself. His son, Don Alonzo de Guzman, is also at the court; but he arrived only a few days ago, on account of his marriage."

"Married, is he?" interrupted the girl, making an effort to smile.

"No, madam; but he soon will be, for there are grand preparations making for the wedding." "And pray, who is the noble lady destined to wear the ducal coronet of the Sidonias ?"

"The richest heiress in the kingdom-Donna Maria de Giron, the only daughter of the Duke d'Ossuna. It is said that there is to be a splendid ball given on the occasion, to which the whole

"I have seen the preparations, which are on a magnificent scale," said the other duenna; "the splendours of ancient chivalry are not to be compared to them. Don Alonzo every day invents some new gallantry for his betrothed."

"He is then much in love with her ?" asked the maiden in an agitated voice.

"He has done that for her sake which proves it. It is said that he rode all the way from Seville to Madrid, merely to see her on her balcony at the last auto de fé, and returned again the same evening," answered the duenna.

"Alas!" murmured she, and again sunk back without once speaking till the carriage arrived at Madrid, and stopped at the door of a small but cheerful house, situated in one of the most private walks of the Prado.

"You are at home, madam," said one of the duennas, as she assisted the young girl to alight, and then, leading the way into the house, she showed her up stairs to a room elegantly and tastefully furnished. With a timid glance of surprise and admiration at the magnificence which surrounded her, Louisa (as we must now call her) followed her conductress from that to an inner apartment. Here everything bespoke the late presence of some soft luxurious beauty, whose only occupation was that of love and pleasure, and only cares those of the toilet. Its walls were hung with pale pink satin, fluted from the top to the bottom, where it terminated with a rich border of embossed silver. Rare paintings, in costly gilt frames, ornamented the spaces over the doors and the mantelpiece. The carpet, which covered the room, was of rich white velvet ground, bordered with wreaths of flowers, whilst in its centre was a basket of fruit, exquisitely painted, and tastefully grouped. The chairs were white and gold, and ranged in regular order round the room, not dispersed as they are in these days in the studied confusion of an upholsterer's wareroom. A centretable, of lapis-lazuli, mounted in ormulu, stood in the middle of the apartment, and close by it were two easy chairs, also mounted in gold, and covered with white satin, embroidered in coloured silks. Before one of the windows, which opened out upon a verandah filled with flowers, was a toilettable covered, to match the hangings, with pink satin, over which was thrown a point-lace coverlet. A circular looking-glass, set in filigree silver, surmounted this, and on each side of the mirror were chandeliers filled with wax tapers, that shed a perfume and a softened light through this elegant and luxurious apartment.

To this table was the young stranger conducted by the duenna; but recoiling from it in dismay, Louisa at first refused to take her seat before it.

"This is not prepared for me," said she. "Whose room is it? who lives in this house ?" Only yourself, madam. It was inhabited by Donna Clara Calderon."

"And who is that lady? does she belong to the court ?"

"No, madam," replied the duenua, with a strange smile; "she was a beautiful person, whom the king once loved."

"Indeed; and she being a subject he could not marry her, and which obliged them to forget each other, I suppose ?" said the young girl, with ingenuous compassion.

The same peculiar smile again crossed the fea tures of the duenna.

"No, madam, not quite that; but the king discovered that he had a rival, and in his anger he shut her up in a convent."

As this reply was rather ambiguous, Louisa put her own innocent construction upon it, and suffered herself in silence to be disrobed, when she retired to her silken couch, and soon fell into a deep refreshing slumber.

A little before daybreak she suddenly started and sat up; she fancied that she heard the convent bell ring for matins, and she was on the point of rising to join the other nuns in the chancel, when the rich hangings of her bed, and its silken coverlet, caught her eye, and recalled her to a sense of the reality.

the

The duenna who slept at her feet, aroused by scream she gave when she awoke, asked her if there was anything the matter with her.

"Yes," replied she, "I have had a bad dream." Compose yourself, madam. It is the effects of your long fatiguing journey."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PRADO.

ABOUT fifteen days later, Paco Rosales and his friend Tovalito were to be seen parading up and down the fashionable walk of the Prado. It was not then, as it is now, wide and regularly planted on each side; but straggling, uneven, and broken, with here and there a few trees growing at irregu lar distances, having been planted without regard to order or picturesqueness. The two mendicants, fatigued with walking, had seated themselves in the most retired part of the Prado, opposite a house whose red roof was partly concealed by the thick foliage of the sycamores in which it was embosomed.

"The city of Madrid pleases me," said Paco Rosales, "it has so many resources for rich people, and if you were of my mind, friend Tovalito, we would spend the remainder of our lives in it." "Be it so, then," replied Tovalito, "let us stay here; it matters but little to me where I drag on my miserable life with this mutilated body, which is so much the envy of those of our fraternity whose infirmities are artificial."

Tovalito shook his head at this, and Paco resumed

"Come, what is it thou dost want for? Do we not enjoy all the profits of our calling? Have we not enough to cat and drink, aye, and more too than we want. I allow that wealth and honours are not showered upon us; people do not take off their hats when we pass; we do not wear the feather over our ear, nor the sword by our sides; the young girls do not peep at us from behind their fans; but we do not want for the comforts of this life, nor a few of its pleasures? Are we not exempt from all employments, labour, and anxiety? And have we not the wherewithal to bury us when we are dead? Hurrab, then, for the life of a mendicant! I would not change my condition with the canon of San Isidio."

"Thou mayest well be happy; thou hast neither remorse nor hatred in thy heart," replied Tovalito, gloomily. "Thou hast no thirst for revenge!"

"By Saint André !" answered Paco Rosales, "such feelings only lead to a bad end. The aim of thy revenge is too high for thee ever to attain it."

"Who knows that ?" said Tovalito, putting his hand to his belt-not that he felt for his daggerbnt for some papers which he kept concealed beneath the broad leather girdle round his waist.

"And thou dost still hope to make some grand stroke with those papers ?" said Paco; "but thou shouldst first make out their contents; now, since neither thou nor I know a single letter of the alphabet, we might look for an hundred years at all those fly-blots and hair-strokes, without making out one word of them; it was not worth thy while to charge thy conscience with such a theft." "As for that, friend Paco, my conscience won't keep me awake. I knew the man who had these papers in his bosom; he was a grey friar, who, like myself, carried letters and messages to Lisbon at the time when the Medina Sidonias conspired against the King our master."

"But all that is past," interrupted Paco Rosales, "I understand nothing of State affairs-and I care as little for them; but it appears to me that if the Duke de Medina Sidonia plotted rebellion, he would not have sent his son to Madrid, to espouse the Duchess of Ossuna."

A fine proof, truly, of his allegiance; to form an alliance which will render them masters of the two most considerable towns of Andalusia. I tell thee what, Paco, I have my own surmises. The monk whom we met at Notre Dame de Guadaloupe with these letters came from Madrid.”

"Dost thou think he would contiuue his jour ney after having lost them on the way ?" interrupted Paco.

"No, certainly; for if he were discovered, his gown would not save him, and his cord of Saint Francois might serve to hang him."

"But who can we trust to decipher these papers?"

We will see," said Tovalito.

Verily, Don Alonzo is not the same man at Madrid that I saw him at Valencia," observed Paco Rosales, "things are changed since then, and this marriage does not resemble the one to which we were to have been the witnesses."

"Look!" suddenly interrupted Tovalito, "dost thou not perceive some one behind those blinds, making signs to us to approach ?"

"It's some charitable person," said Paco, taking off his hat; and going towards the balcony, he began to recite his usual formula. Immediately, a delicate female hand drew the blind partially aside, and threw him out a handful of reals; and a voice, which was too familiar to be mistaken, cried, "My poor Paco, say a prayer for me at Notre Dame de las Nieves."

"Holy Father! who speaks to me," cried Paco in astonishment.

"Return here to-morrow, at the same hour," answered the voice. "God preserve thee. and the blind was again closed.

Go!"

When Paco Rosales returned to his comrade, the expression of his countenance was that of be wildered amazement.

"What dost thou think, Tovalito ?" stammered he; "I can hardly credit my senses-but I knew her voice the instant she spoke-her very words too, and see here-this handful of money."

"Thou art demented, friend Paco, thy travels affect thy brain; it cannot be her-it is impos. sible."

"I tell thee it is either her or her apparition."

"Still more improbable. What! the ghost of a pun haunt the abode of the King's mistress. Ha ha ha!"

Keep thy merriment for another occasion, Tovalito," quietly answered Paco, we shall see tomorrow which of us is in the right."

The next day, at the appointed hour, the door of the mysterious house opened, and a duenna appeared and beckoned to Paco, who had been already parading before it for the last hour and more, to enter. He obeyed her summons with alacrity, and followed her up the richly carpetted staircase to the first landing, where she left him for a few moments, and then returning again, ushered him into the presence of her mistress.

con

On a satin couch, in a half reclining posture, sat a young woman arrayed in rich white brocade, which fell in graceful folds around her slender form. No fictitious ornaments disfigured or cealed her natural beauty, but a simple diamond egret looped up the sleeves of her dress, and thus exposed her fair, rounded arm, above the elbow; her dark glossy hair falling in long ringlets over her white shoulders, completed her attire.

But

in the midst of all this luxury, the lovely brow of the young woman was clouded with deep thought and anxious care, and for some time she remained in silent contemplation of the mendicant, who stood staring around him, dazzled by the sight of so much splendour and magnificence,

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"Approach, Paco," at length cried she, in a voice of suppressed emotion, "dost thou remember me ?"

"Yes, Donna; who could forget Theresa de Vasconcellos, who had once seen her ?"

"I see thou knowest me. But on thy salvation never pronounce my name again, it is that of one dead. Paco, I once trusted thee, I have a secret which I an about to confide to thee. Wilt thou keep it inviolate ?"

"Trust me, lady; I will keep it faithfully; on the word of a Spaniard," said Paco Rosales, putting his hand on his heart.

It is not long since I saw thee," resumed she. "It was one morning during high-mass at the convent of L'Etroit Observance."

"I also saw you, lady, but you then wore the black veil and the crown of thorns."

"Yes," replied she, in a gloomy voice; "but I have fled from my convent. I have violated my Vows."

me.

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All

God have mercy on your soul, then, poor lost creature," cried Paco, in a tone of sincere pity. 'And here I am surrounded by everything that can flatter the pride and seduce the senses. that thou seest around thee is mine. My wishes, my caprices, are sovereign laws. All here obey This soft brocade replaces the serge. My body is no longer mutilated with the stripes of mortification. I no longer rise from my hard couch at midnight, to kneel on the cold flags of a dark chapel; but am I happy? Oh, God! no, Regrets, remorse, despair gnaw at my heart, and steep my soul in horror." "You still think of Don Alonzo, Donna ?" said Paco Rosales.

no.

"Yes, I still think of him," replied she with a bitter smile;" can I forget him? He who has been my ruin. He who has plunged me into an abyss of shame and crime. And whilst I suffer these torments, he is happy, he loves, and is loved again. Paco, dost thou not understand what I wish, what I want of thee?"

"Yes. I understand you, Signora, answered" he, with a meaning smile.

"The risk and danger will be great," replied she; "but a cautious, determined man, with a firm hand and resolute courage, is always master of another man's life. I will reward thee beyond thy most sanguine hopes. I will enrich-ennoble thee, if thou wilt."

"I fear that I have misunderstood, thee, lady," said Paco Rosales, in a tone of incredulous surprise.

"I repeat," answered she, "that I will make a gentleman of him who shall kill Don Alonzo de Guzman."

"To seek a man, and when he is alone, strike him behind his back, would be no such difficult matter," said Paco Rosales, coldly; "it is a revenge easily accomplished, but it is soon over. am acquainted with a man who is the enemy-the implacable enemy of Don Alonzo, and yet he would

I

next to the King, had watched Pizarro with intense impatience and anxiety.

'There, lovely inquisitive one," said he, "read and satisfy thy sex's curiosity."

She took the paper, and as she eagerly glanced over its contents, a deadly pallor overspread her countenance; her quivering lips became livid; her eyes flashed beneath their long dark lashes, and her bosom rose and fell with the loud throbbings of her heart, as she absolutely rocked upon her chair from the violence of her emotions. When she had read it through, the document fell from her hands, and she fell back in her seat in a dead fainting fit.

The King, surprised and alarmed, caught her in his arms, and thus supported her, whilst the secretary Pizarro, who had waited in the room for further commands, and whom the King now called to his assistance, sprinkled her face with the contents of a scent bottle, which was on the table, and rubbed her hands, until she revived from her

swoon.

When she opened her eyes and met the King's anxious and inquiring gaze as he bent tenderly over her, she turned away with a convulsive shudder, and pointing to the paper which lay unheeded at her feet, faltered out, "the letter, Sire, it concerns your Majesty !"

"What can it be ?" said he, as he took it up, and hastily cast his eye over the first few lines; but as he went on he read with deeper attention, and when he came to the end, astonishment, rage, and disappointment so convulsed his features, that Theresa could hardly recognise him, and for the first time since she knew him she shrunk and trembled before his terrible anger and indignation. "What!" cried be, as he violently threw the fatal document to the ground, "am I for ever to meet with none but ingrates and rebels? The example of the Duke de Braganza is now bearing its fruits. The revolted Catalonians have already called the stranger to their succour, and aided the French to pass the Pyrenees; to-day Andalusia is also ready to rise, and the Duke de Medina Sidonia wants to make it an independent kingdom. By Santiago! the time will come when there will be as many sovereigns as there are provinces in the peninsula. The powerful arms of Ferdinand and Isabella will have vainly united so many States under one sceptre. But no, no. This great Spanish monarchy shall not fall thus while there is one drop of blood in these veins. Thank God! I will die as I have lived, King of all Spain, and not King of Castile, like Henry the Impotent."

"The service which thou hast just rendered the State," said the King, in a softened voice, as he took one of her hands and pressed it between both his own, "is immense; these letters contain the proof of a great conspiracy which is ripe for execution. The Duke de Medina Sidonia and his son have plotted it. My galleons, seized on their arrival, are to furnish the means for the expenses of the war. Cadiz is to be delivered up to the Portuguese, and the same day all Andalusia is to

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proclaim the new King. This letter, addressed to Don Alonzo de Guzman, discovers the whole plot; but tell me, sweetest, how it fell into thy hands?" They were brought to me by a poor mendicant who was on his way from Notre Dame de Guadaloupe; he picked them up in the road where they had been dropped by a Franciscan friar who had preceded him on the way."

We can easily verify all these facts," said the King, "but we must first secure the traitors. This same night they shall be arrested. High as their heads may be placed my justice shall reach them. I now see why Don Alonzo's marriage was to be so hastily concluded. He counted on taking possession of a kingdom. By my soul, he shall find his crown upon the scaffold."

“I have arrived in time for his marriage feast," murmured Theresa.

CHAPTER XV.

THE ROYAL AUDIENCE.

THE following day a strange report circulated in the streets of Madrid. It was said that Don Alonzo had been arrested the night before for high treason. The friends of the house of Guzman were in a state of the utmost consternation and anxiety, and awaited in fear and dismay some terrible example of the Sovereign's justice.

The Duke d'Ossuna, by order of the King, immediately repaired to the palace, and after a private audience with his Majesty, he publicly proclaimed the marriage between his daughter and Don Alonzo to be broken off. Soon after this, the disgrace of the Duke de Medina Sidonia became public news. The King, having deprived him of the government of Andalusia, confiscated his estates, and stripped him of his titles. The town of San Lucar de Barameda, and some other places belonging to this powerful family, reverted to the Crown, and the proud, ambitious duke, thus despoiled of his wealth and princely honours, was either obliged to fly to Portugal, and hide his proscribed head in shame, ignominy, and poverty, or to humiliate himself and sue for mercy and forgiveness from the Sovereign he had betrayed. Don Alonzo was strictly guarded. His confessor alone was allowed access to his prison. Whatever might have been his crime, he could only be tried by his peers, and the members of the council of Castile; and every one awaited with curiosity and anxiety the hour of his trial.

The two mendicants who, by a strange chance, had discovered this unheard of plot with the enemies of the State, had been munificently rewarded, and it only remained with themselves to make a respectable figure in the world; but they were unaccustomed to affluence, and felt themselves rather embarrassed than otherwise by its possession.

In the meantime Theresa waited with gloomy impatience the dénouement of this drama, in which