momentary suffering ; life would speedily escape the tyranny. But the loss of thy Matilda will be a continued source of endless misery, towering far beyond the gales of consolation—Stay, a spark of hope remains, instantly fly to the throne of Spain's monarch, else to the footstool of the papal chair, to implore my wife's release ; and should the ear of compassion be shut, arm thyself with the combustibles of the PAINTER, and in the still hour of midnight raze the convent to its base, chanting amid the fury of the flames the barbarous policy of monastic institutions ! 0! Eliza, but for you, would I carse the interposition of the Abbot of the Franciscans.”

What! exclaimed I, more and more amazed at the language of Mons. B. what of Francisco ? “Ah !" replied Mrs. Edwards, “ it is to the bounty of your friend, that good, that generous, old man, we owe our escape from the Inquisition, and all the horrors of torture and of death."

“ From the dungeons of the Inquisition !” was the general exclamation.

“ Yes," continued Eliza, drawing a letter from her bosom, “behold a letter from your friend ; behold the

paper that will unfold the mystery in which our disappearance is inveloped.” A el Senor Don Carlo Westcote.

“ My dear Charles cannot have forgotten the situation in which he found me the morning of yesterday ; nor can my agitation when he presented me with the picture of Mrs. Edwards, have escaped his memory. Some future period may acquaint you with the whole of my untoward life ; but at present a thousand circumstances must determine me, to

keep the secret shut up within my own bosom ; nor am I at liberty to relate to you the history connected with the person who should so greatly resemble Mrs. Edwards.

“ Attending my duty at the Inquisition I saw that young lady. Could I behold her without concern, without emotions of the liveliest interest in her fate? Could I regard so strong a similitude of features to her, the idea of whose very existence, (however paradoxical it may seem) is as much my torment as the solace of the most inveterate affection ? Impossible ! Solicitous to rid myself of that anxiety which possessed me, and to ascertain a fatal presentiment, I pleaded indisposition, and I was fortunate to procure the assent of the Grand Inquisitor to postpone the trial until the following morning. A delay reluctantly acceded to, on account of the enormity of the offence of which she stood charged, with the length of time the trial had already been pending. The forebodings of my mind were intolerable ; but how was I to ascertain the fact? How to avert the danger which threatened the safety of one, I persuaded myself, to be innocent, from a conviction that the virtues of the mother were implanted in the bosom of the daughter. I quitted the tribunal, however, determined to discover the truth, not only of the accusation, but the identity of the accused, or to perish in the attempt. Whether or no she should prove the individual I had too much reason to presume, I was alike determined to rescue a person whose features were indelibly engraven on my mind. Every instant was a deeper stab to my uneasiness, because the greater became my indetermination as to the mode of acting. In this deplorable state I thought

of you. I had a secret presentiment that you might be the means of effecting what otherwise seemed impracticable, and one moment subverted a spirit of illiberality repugnant to humanity. Subduing the prejudice I have ever borne toward every foreign country, I resolved to hearken to your history, that I might discover how far you had fortitude to undertake the chromeeter I should assign to you. A determination no sooner fixed than I dispatched Father Miguel to hasten its accomplishment. When you appeared, my situation might well have confirmed the opinion I chose to influence, and the result of this plan confirmed me in the innocence of the accused. I saw through a scene of villainy which I shall leave M B. to detail. I saw that the culprit was the lost Mrs. Edwards. And I was satisfied the singular resemblance between the two was altogether the effect of accident.

"The sequel I shall leave your friends to relate; and that I may complete the happiness of you all,. meet me on the morrow, that we may consult on the means of releasing Mad. B.-But remember, the contents of this letter must remain for ever unknown.'

Adieu,

FRANCISCO."

1

All were anxious to peruse the abbott's letter, but I resisted every entreaty. Mrs. Edwards received the account of her husband's suspicions, and subsequent conduct, with less firmness than I expected; but with the rest, she participated in the happiness that awaited My B.

CHAPTER XXX.

“ C'est l'image du Christ qui est le signal de ces horribles “ devastations. L'Empire sacerdotal couvre tout-Etient 6 tout dans ses tenebres !

HE innocence of Eliza brightened at Francisco's

M. B. had favoured us with the following narrative :

“You may remember,” said he, “ that on the evening preceding our extraordinary disappearance, we retired to our different chambers at an hour unusually early ; Matilda had been complaining of drowsiness, and the moment the light was extinguished her eyes closed in the arms of Morpheus. Myself perfectly overcome by sleep, I was fast following her example when I fancied I heard the sound of footsteps. I listened with more attention, and I was confirmed in my opinion that some one was actually in the room ; but extraordinary as this circumstance appeared, so perfectly was I under the influence of some narcotic preparation, that I closed my eyes without inquiring who it was. When I awoke, I found myself in the open air, my hands tied behind my back, a bandage over my eyes, gagged, and carried in a kind of litter. I attempted to raise myself, but some one rudely pushed me down, and cautioned me to be quiet or death should be the forfeit of my imprudence. It was vain to offer resistance, and I waited with fearful

apprehensions the result of an adventure so strange and

ccountable. We had proceeded some consider

able distance, when the grating of an iron door announced our approach 10 the end of our journey. Here we entered, and the door having been carefully fastened, I was ordered to get up, and the bandage was removed from my eyes; but it might as well have remained, for with the exception of the faint rays from a dark lantern, all around was black as Erebus. A dismal cell terminated the passage, and here we halted. A figure grinning horribly a ghastly smile registered my description, and in a voice bearing little resemblance to an human one, ordered me to kneel before him. He next demanded the crime I was charged with ? “ Murder" was the instantaneous reply. “Murder !” exclaimed I, “'tis false as hell.” “ Murder," repeated the miserable recorder, casting his eyes to heaven as he entered the accusation. « Murder! Holy St Dominick, 'tis the blackest of crimes, and next to it is the profanation of denying it within these holy walls ! Aye, aye, you may well shudder, 'tis only the guilty who tremble at accusation. You may, if you choose, persist in your innocence ; il matters not, as we have an expeditious mode of inviting the obstinate to confession. Familiars bear him to his dungeon. A good night's rest to you,” added this imp of villainy and darkness.

“ Left alone to the agonizing reflections that obtruded themselves, I was plunged into the deepest abyss of despair.-Murder! would I repeat, who have I murdered ? It is surely my unlucky star that has directed these ecclesiastical blood-hounds to mine, in place of the house of the guilty person. What an horrible dilemma! Though innocent, I should mostassuredly suffer tortures more excruciating than hu

T