fully, as thou hast done,
And well, I know, wilt keep the promise made.
But virgin fear induced _me_ to withhold
My confidence, until it was too late.
My heart was given and my troth was plighted;
Don Felipe, such was his cherish'd name,
Implored my silence; our frequent meetings
Were sanctified by marriage: then I learn'd
It was an old and deadly feud that barr'd
His long sought entrance to our house; but soon
He hoped our marriage publicly t'announce,
And strife of years to end, and peace restore
By our acknowledged union.
Alas! two days before this much-sought hour,
My brothers were inform'd I did receive
My husband in my chamber. He was surprised
And murder'd--basely in my presence slain!

_Isid._ Oh Heavens!

_Inez._ They would not listen to my frantic words!
They would not credit our asserted union!
They dragg'd me to a convent in their wrath,
And left me to my widowhood and tears,
Tore my sweet infant from my longing arms,
And while I madly scream'd, and begg'd for pity,
The abbess spoke of penitence and prayer.
Reason, for weeks, forsook me: when again
I was awaken'd to a cruel world,
They would have forced me to assume the veil.

_Isid._ To me, that force had been most needlessly
Exerted. What haven could the world offer
So meet for such a wreck of happiness?
What could induce you to repel that force?

_Inez._ The hope, that one day I might find my boy--
A hope which still I cherish. Years have fled;
My brothers fell by those who sought revenge,
And I remain'd, sole scion of our noble house,
In line direct. Then did I seek my child.
Those who attended at the birth inform'd me
It had a sanguine bracelet on the wrist.
By threats and bribes at last I ascertained
My child had been removed unto the hospital
Built in this city for receiving foundlings.
Full of a mother's joy, a mother's fear,
I hasten'd there, alas! to disappointment!
All clue of him was lost, and should my boy survive,
The heir of Guzman's noble house may be
Some poor mechanic's slave!
(_In anguish throws herself into a chair._)

_Isidora_ (_kneels beside Inez_).
Indeed 'tis dreadful. I marvel not you grieve
To think that he survives in hapless penury,
Unconscious of his right, perchance unfitted,
And if recover'd, prove no source of joy,
But one of deep regret, that a young stock
Which culture and the graft of education
Would now have loaded on each bough with fruit,
Neglect hath left degenerate and worthless.
How should I