and her whole frame shook like the
aspen leaf; "alive! where? where is he?"

"In this city, and will come to the palace presently. More I cannot tell
you, lady;--permit me now to withdraw, and oh! that you might do the
same!"

Roque, as we have already observed, was far from being of a cruel and
hardened disposition, and his acquiescence in the unprincipled actions
of his master arose more from dread of his character than perversity of
heart. He was now strangely perplexed, anticipating the disastrous
results which might spring from the unlooked-for meeting of Gomez Arias
and the forsaken victim of his satiated passion. He almost regretted
having removed the error under which Theodora laboured with regard to
her lover's death.

Meantime Theodora, partly recovered from the violent shock which her
feelings had sustained, felt a chill of doubt and a vague apprehension
of evil that deadened the first impression of transporting pleasure
which the certainty of her Lope's existence had produced. She
endeavoured to give a solution to the enigma, but met with none
congenial to her feelings. The circumstance of her lover being in
Granada, and apparently unconcerned for her fate, withered the budding
hopes within her bosom, for she fondly imagined that Gomez Arias could
never be separated from her but by death. This suspense was terrible,
and Roque's demeanor tended to increase her anxiety. She fixed her
starting eyes on him, and holding his hand with a fearful grasp, in a
voice wild with emotion, she exclaimed:--"Roque! Roque! in the name of
Heaven, unravel this mystery."

She hesitated a moment, but the very poignancy of her anguish gave her
force to demand--"Did Gomez Arias, then, leave me in the power of the
Moors without attempting my defence?"

Roque made no answer.

Theodora became intensely excited, and with the piercing voice of
despair:--"Then it is true!" she exclaimed, "your silence confirms my
fears!"

A ghastly smile was on her lip, and a deadly paleness overspread her
features.

Roque now perceived the utter impossibility of keeping his master's
cruelty any longer a secret from his victim: yet he dreaded to acquaint
her with the whole extent of her misery; he trembled for the
consequences that such an avowal would produce upon her feelings, and he
knew that with a fond woman of extraordinary sensibility and elevated
sentiments, the death of a lover might be more easily supported than his
dereliction. On