de of the obligation. To yourself you owe nothing; for had
it not been for this happy circumstance, by this time you would have
been numbered with the dead. Go, and rejoice with your friends over your
fortunate deliverance, and then I will receive you as becomes a victor."

A shout of unfeigned approbation burst from every one. Theodora seemed
intoxicated with happiness. She looked on Gomez Arias, and in those
features which had so successfully enraptured her young heart, again saw
a display of tenderness to recompense her affection. All her sufferings
were forgotten; the cup of misery had been drained, and happiness,
boundless, uninterrupted happiness, was to be hers for ever. Gomez
Arias, moved with kindly and generous feelings which had long been
dormant in his heart, had as yet been unable to give utterance to his
demonstrations of gratitude. He now disengaged himself from the hands of
Theodora, moved forwards, and threw himself at the feet of the queen.
Every eye was joyfully turned on him, when suddenly one of the friars,
who had attended him at the scaffold, broke from the surrounding group.
In his hand gleamed a poniard, and before any arm could arrest the blow,
he buried the fatal weapon in the breast of Gomez Arias, who started on
his feet, reeled, and fell at the foot of the throne. In an instant
every thing was wild confusion. Theodora, with a piercing scream, threw
herself beside her murdered husband, while several leaches hastened to
the assistance of the fallen knight.

The queen alone seemed to preserve her presence of mind amidst the
uproar that prevailed.

"Seize the assassin!" she exclaimed, and the guards immediately secured
his person. He was one of the Franciscans who had accompanied Gomez
Arias to the scaffold. He still held in his sinewy hand the ensanguined
poniard, and with the savage laugh of a fiend exulted over his deed.

"Now, God be thanked!" exclaimed the leach who had examined the wound of
Gomez Arias, "if my skill fail me not, the knight may yet live."

"Never!" cried the friar, in a voice that chilled the reviving hopes of
every one; "Never! your skill is vain--the dagger is poisoned."

A shudder of horror ran through the court.

"Man of darkness," exclaimed Count de Tendilla, "fiend under the holy
garb of religion, what could prompt thee to such a crime? But a short
time since I saw thee attend thy victim to administer to him hope and
consolation."

"Yes," replied the friar, g