of her imprisonment in the Carmelite Convent, she
redoubled her speed, blaming herself for having been beguiled by the
beauty of the evening to prolong her walk farther than she intended on
setting out--when the increasing haste of the footsteps behind her
excited the keenest alarms within her bosom--for she now felt convinced
that she was pursued.

The cottage was already in sight, and a hundred paces only separated her
from its door, when a well-known voice--a voice which caused every fiber
in her heart to thrill with surprise and joy--exclaimed: "Flora! beloved
one; fly not! Oh! I could not be deceived in the symmetry of thy
form--the graciousness of thy gait--I knew it was thou."

And in another moment the maiden was clasped in the arms of Francisco,
Count of Riverola. Impossible were it to describe the ecstatic bliss of
this meeting--a meeting so unexpected on either side: for a minute
before, Flora had deemed the young nobleman to be far away, fighting in
the cause of the cross, while Francisco was proceeding to make inquiries
at the cottage concerning his beloved, but with a heart that scarcely
dared nourish a hope of her reappearance.

"Oh! my well-beloved Flora!" exclaimed Francisco; "and are we indeed
thus blest, or is it a delusive dream? But tell me, sweet maiden, tell
me whether thou hast ceased to think of one, from whose memory thine
image has never been absent since the date of thy sudden and mysterious
disappearance."

Flora could not reply in words--her heart was too full for the utterance
of her feelings; but as she raised the veil from her charming
countenance, the tears of joy which stood upon her long lashes, and the
heavenly smile which played upon her lips, and the deep blushes which
overspread her cheeks spoke far more eloquently of unaltered affection
than all the vows and pledges which might have flowed from the tongue.

"Thou lovest me--lovest me--lovest me still!" exclaimed the enraptured
count, again clasping her in his arms, and now imprinting innumerable
kisses on her lips, her cheeks, and her fair brow. Hasty explanations
speedily ensued, and Francisco now learnt for the first time the cause
of Flora's disappearance--her incarceration in the convent--and the
particulars of her release.

"But who could have been the author of that outrage?" exclaimed the
count, his cheeks flushing with indignation, and his hand instinctively
grasping his sword; "whom could you, sweet maiden, have of