bject
themselves to the Christian government, retired into Africa, and amongst
this number we must count the magnanimous El Feri de Benastepar; for,
as no account was received of his death, it was supposed he had
abandoned the country.

Thus peace was at length restored, and the city of Granada became again
the center of gaiety and happiness, and this was not a little enhanced
by the anticipation of the union of Leonor de Aguilar with the gallant
Don Antonio de Leyva: the nuptials being only delayed until a due
allowance of time had been devoted to the memory of the noble Don Alonso
de Aguilar.

Meantime Don Manuel de Monteblanco and his unfortunate daughter had
retired to their mansion at Guadix. Shortly after the mortal remains of
Gomez Arias had been consigned to the earth, Don Manuel prevailed on his
unhappy daughter to abandon a city fraught with such dreadful
associations. Theodora submissively obeyed the desires of her solicitous
and kind parent, but alas! the sorrow that slowly consumed her heart was
not to be removed by change of place: the lovely victim carried within
her the deadly poison that was to consign her to an early grave.
Theodora became the prey of a deep-rooted melancholy. The kind attention
of friends, the tender expostulation of her father, might momentarily
withdraw her mind from the subject of her constant meditations; tokens
of regard, and the soft caresses of pity might elicit a transient smile;
but soon, alas! her mind would revert to its mournful occupation; soon
her smile would give way to sadness.

During the day, she wandered about the large mansion like a restless
spirit whose duties in life are fulfilled, and who longs to take its
flight. Sometimes she took her lute, and in wild and plaintive voice she
would sing those romances which Gomez Arias had loved to hear. Then she
would ramble through the garden, and visit those spots endeared by the
recollection of her love. Sometimes, too, in the stillness of night, a
most piercing scream would issue from her chamber, and arouse the
unfortunate Monteblanco from his couch, to hush the fevered imagination
of his daughter, continually haunted by the image of the murdered Gomez
Arias.

Day after day the disconsolate father watched the progress of the
malady. Gradually Theodora was wasting in form, and her intellectual
powers seemed to share in the wreck of her outward appearance. Nothing
could disturb the gloomy monotony of her thoughts. Mu