n of
his passion only excited the same emotion of loathing and detestation.

At length the fatal day drew nigh. "To-morrow," said Don Ambrosio, as
he left her one evening, "to-morrow is the auto da fe. To-morrow you
will hear the sound of the bell that tolls your father to his death.
You will almost see the smoke that rises from the funeral pile. I
leave you to yourself. It is yet in my power to save him. Think
whether you can stand to-morrow's horrors without shrinking! Think
whether you can endure the after-reflection, that you were the cause
of his death, and that merely through a perversity in refusing
proffered happiness."

What a night was it to Inez!--her heart already harassed and almost
broken, by repeated and protracted anxieties; her strength wasted and
enfeebled. On every side, horrors awaited her; her father's death, her
own dishonour--there seemed no escape from misery or perdition. "Is
there no relief from man--no pity in heaven?" exclaimed she. "What
--what have we done, that we should be thus wretched?"

As the dawn approached, the fever of her mind arose to agony; a
thousand times did she try the doors and windows of her apartment, in
the desperate hope of escaping. Alas! with all the splendour of her
prison, it was too faithfully secured for her weak hands to work
deliverance. Like a poor bird, that beats its wings against its gilded
cage, until it sinks panting in despair, so she threw herself on the
floor in hopeless anguish. Her blood grew hot in her veins, her tongue
was parched, her temples throbbed with violence, she gasped rather
than breathed; it seemed as if her brain was on fire. "Blessed
Virgin!" exclaimed she, clasping her hands and turning up her strained
eyes, "look down with pity, and support me in this dreadful hour!"

Just as the day began to dawn, she heard a key turn softly in the door
of her apartment. She dreaded lest it should be Don Ambrosio; and the
very thought of him gave her a sickening pang. It was a female clad in
a rustic dress, with her face concealed by her mantilla. She stepped
silently into the room, looked cautiously round, and then, uncovering
her face, revealed the well-known features of the ballad-singer. Inez
uttered an exclamation of surprise, almost of joy. The unknown started
back, pressed her finger on her lips enjoining silence, and beckoned
her to follow. She hastily wrapped herself in her veil, and obeyed.
They passed with quick, but noiseless steps th