nd requesting
to see him the next morning.

Late as the hour was, and in spite of the expostulations of the
governor, who wished him to remain the night within the prison, in the
hope to extract from him his secret, Fonseca no sooner received the
order than he claimed and obtained his liberation.

CHAPTER X. WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.

With emotions of joy and triumph, such as had never yet agitated his
reckless and abandoned youth, the Infant of Spain bent his way towards
the lonely house on the road to Fuencarral. He descended from his
carriage when about a hundred yards from the abode, and proceeded on
foot to the appointed place.

The Jew opened the door to the prince with a hideous grin on his hollow
cheek; and Philip hastened up the stairs, and entering the chamber we
have before described, beheld, to his inconceivable consternation and
dismay, the form of Beatriz clasped in the arms of Calderon, her head
leaning on his bosom; while his voice half choked with passionate sobs
called upon her in the most endearing terms.

For a moment the prince stood, spell-bound and speechless, at the
threshold; then, striking the hilt of his sword fiercely, he exclaimed,
"Traitor! is it thus that thou hast kept thy promise? Dost thou not
tremble at my vengeance?"

"Peace! peace!" said Calderon, in an imperious, but sepulchral tone, and
waving one hand with a gesture of impatience and rebuke, while with the
other he removed the long clustering hair that fell over the pale face
of the still insensible novice. "Peace, prince of Spain; thy voice
scares back the struggling life--peace! Look up, image and relic of the
lost--the murdered--the martyr! Hush! do you hear her breathe, or is
she with her mother in that heaven which is closed on me? Live! live! my
daughter--my child--live! For thy life in the World Hereafter will _not_
be mine!"

"What means this?" said the prince, falteringly. "What delusion do thy
wiles practise upon me?"

Calderon made no answer; and at that instant Beatriz sighed heavily, and
her eyes opened.

"My child! my child!--thou art my child! Speak--let me hear thy
voice--again let it call me 'father!'"

And Calderon dropped on his knees, and, clasping his hands fervently,
looked up imploringly in her face. The novice, now slowly returning to
life and consciousness, strove to speak: her voice failed her, but her
lips smiled arms fell feebly but endearingly upon Calderon, and her
round his neck.

"B