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 burning 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.
Hovering about the palace, he heard of Isabella's merciful intentions
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 tire 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 treacherously dealing the blow, had awakened him, and
bade him confess his crimes--one especially; and acknowle