ome cruel artifice!" Don Ambrosio repeated
his asseverations, and with them also his dishonourable proposals; but
his eagerness overshot its mark: her indignation and her incredulity
were alike awakened by his base suggestions; and he retired from her
presence, checked and awed by the sudden pride and dignity of her
demeanour.

The unfortunate Inez now became a prey to the most harrowing
anxieties. Don Ambrosio saw that the mask had fallen from his face,
and that the nature of his machinations was revealed. He had gone too
far to retrace his steps, and assume the affectation of tenderness and
respect; indeed, he was mortified and incensed at her insensibility to
his attractions, and now only sought to subdue her through her fears.
He daily represented to her the dangers that threatened her father,
and that it was in his power alone to avert them. Inez was still
incredulous. She was too ignorant of the nature of the inquisition, to
know that even innocence was not always a protection from its
cruelties; and she confided too surely in the virtue of her father, to
believe that any accusation could prevail against him.

At length Don Ambrosio, to give an effectual blow to her confidence,
brought her the proclamation of the approaching auto da fe, in which
the prisoners were enumerated. She glanced her eye over it, and beheld
her father's name, condemned to the stake for sorcery!

For a moment she stood transfixed with horror. Don Ambrosio seized
upon the transient calm. "Think, now, beautiful Inez," said he, with a
tone of affected tenderness, "his life is still in your hands; one
word from you, one kind word, and I can yet save him."

"Monster! wretch!" cried she, coming to herself, and recoiling from
him with insuperable abhorrence: "'Tis you that are the cause of
this--'tis you that are his murderer!" Then, wringing her hands, she
broke forth into exclamations of the most frantic agony.

The perfidious Ambrosio saw the torture of her soul, and anticipated
from it a triumph. He saw that she was in no mood, during her present
paroxysm, to listen to his words; but he trusted that the horrors of
lonely rumination would break down her spirit, and subdue her to his
will. In this, however, he was disappointed. Many were the
vicissitudes of mind of the wretched Inez; at one time, she would
embrace his knees, with piercing supplications; at another, she would
shrink with nervous horror at his very approach; but any intimatio