en generous, and unsuspecting, and for this she was betrayed and
abandoned. Her injuries had so far wrought upon her distempered brain,
that she was now about to commit a crime, for which she would be cursed,
despised, and perhaps brought to an ignominious end.

Theodora remained a short time in a doubtful mood, and a heavenly spirit
seemed to struggle with the malignant fiend that instigated her. She
held the lamp in her trembling hand over the sleeping form of her lover,
and by the sickly light she discovered his features as if inspired by
some happy dream. His breath came thick upon her face, as she bent over
the couch. Smiles were upon his lips, and a gentle motion shook his
frame.

"He loves her!" groaned the despairing Theodora,--"he loves her dearly,
and I am come to----"

At this moment the deep toned bell of the palace sounded the hour, and
interrupted her dreadful sentence. Solemnly the peal rung through the
place like the death-knell of the perjured lover; but he, unconscious of
his impending fate, slept securely and dreamt of love and happiness. For
now his lips move, and in the broken articulation of deep but pleasing
sighs, the name of her who occupied his mind, burst from his swelling
bosom. It was the name of Leonor; the baneful sound went piercing to
Theodora's heart, and roused all the furies that held dominion there.
The kindly feelings which had returned, now withered fast away. She
starts with frenzy; she grows paler, and revenge alone prevails; her
bosom rises and falls with fearful emotion; wildly her eyes roll. She
resolutely grasps the dagger; the moment is arrived; one blow, and the
despoiler of her happiness would cease to exist: she fiercely raised her
arm, but at the instant all her strength withered: nerveless she dropped
the weapon from her powerless hand: no! she could not strike; for she
was a woman maddened by deep injuries, but she still loved her
betrayer, and the fountain of her gentle nature again bedewed her heart.
She could not strike the man who had, without remorse, inflicted on her
the pangs of a thousand deaths: she smiles in bitterness, and hangs over
the couch of her unconscious lover, her clustering hair loosely flowing
over the pillow; a piteous sigh escapes her, and, bending lower, she
kisses the lips that had betrayed her.

Gomez Arias awakes.--Is this a vision? Surely a phantom mocks his sight;
the spectre of _her_ he had forsaken stands before him: it is indeed the