a; but she furiously darted from him, and sought to fly after her
lover, who was speeding fast away.

"Oh stay!" she continued, crying in a tone of agony; "Oh stay, Lope!
complete your work--in pity kill me. One crime more will not make you
unacceptable to her you love. Return! return! oh Lope, in the name of
heaven!--Not for me, but for the love of Leonor, do not leave me thus!
Oh Lope, do not leave me thus!"

Gomez Arias, as he sped away, heard the piteous appeal dying faintly on
the wind, and he plunged the rowels into his courser's sides, to escape
the harrowing sensation which such accents produced. Soon the mournful
cries were lost in the distance, and the wretched Theodora, at length
exhausted and overpowered, fell senseless on the ground. The Moors
easily succeeded in bearing her away, while poor Roque, who followed
close, seemed, out of pity for her, to be reconciled to his own fate.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

GOMEZ ARIAS;

OR,

THE MOORS OF THE ALPUJARRAS.

A SPANISH HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

BY

DON TELESFORO DE TRUEBA Y COSIO.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

_LONDON_:

HURST, CHANCE, AND CO.

65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD.

1828.

CHAPTER I.

Nul ne sut mieux que lui le grand art de seduire;
Nul sur ses passions n'eut jamais plus d'empire,
Et ne sut mieux cacher, sous des dehors trompeurs,
Des plus vastes desseins les sombres profondeurs.

_Voltaire._

The pathetic and heart-rending lamentations of Theodora rung ominous in
the ears of Gomez Arias long after he had ceased to hear them; but as he
drew near Granada, and beheld its stately edifices, ambition again
dazzled his imagination, and he welcomed the bright images which rose
before his view to dispel the gloomy tendency of his present thoughts.
The stately turrets of the Alhambra enlarging upon his sight, awakened
the most flattering ideas in his ardent mind. Proud of the regard with
which he was honored by his gracious sovereign, and truly estimating the
high connexion he was about to form, he naturally anticipated the most
brilliant and honorable career. The last lingering suggestion of
remorse, which told him of the cruelty and ingratitude by which he had
paved the way to his advancement, now grew less powerful, and
conscience, that terrible monitor of the human heart, hushed her
enfeebled voice, bribed by the rich prize offered for future silence.

Don Lope secretly