rds the shore; one man was seated in it; he reached the shore, and I
recognized Gerald. That was a dreadful moment. Alvarez now slowly joined
him; they remained together for nearly an hour. I saw Gerald give the
Spaniard a letter, which appeared to make the chief subject of their
conversation. At length they parted, with the signs rather of respect
than familiarity. Don Diego returned homeward, and Gerald re-entered the
boat. I watched its progress over the waves with feelings of a dark and
almost unutterable nature. "My enemy! my rival! ruiner of my hopes!--_my
brother_!--_my twin brother_!" I muttered bitterly between my ground
teeth.

The boat did not make to the open sea: it skulked along the shore, till
distance and shadow scarcely allowed me to trace the outline of Gerald's
figure. It then touched the beach, and I could just descry the dim shape
of another man enter; and Gerald, instead of returning homewards, pushed
out towards the islet. I spent the greater part of the night in the open
air. Wearied and exhausted by the furious indulgence of my passions,
I gained my room at length. There, however, as elsewhere, thought
succeeded to thought, and scheme to scheme. Should I speak to Gerald?
Should I confide in Alvarez? Should I renew my suit to Isora? If the
first, what could I hope to learn from my enemy? If the second, what
could I gain from the father, while the daughter remained averse to me?
If the third,--there my heart pointed, and the third scheme I resolved
to adopt.

But was I sure that Gerald was this Barnard? Might there not be some
hope that he was not? No, I could perceive none. Alvarez had never
spoken to me of acquaintance with any other Englishman than Barnard;
I had no reason to believe that he ever held converse with any other.
Would it not have been natural too, unless some powerful cause, such
as love to Isora, induced silence,--would it not have been natural that
Gerald should have mentioned his acquaintance with the Spaniard? Unless
some dark scheme, such as that which Barnard appeared to have in common
with Don Diego, commanded obscurity, would it have been likely that
Gerald should have met Alvarez alone,--at night,--on an unfrequented
spot? What that scheme _was_, I guessed not,--I cared not. All my
interest in the identity of Barnard with Gerald Devereux was that
derived from the power he seemed to possess over Isora. Here, too, at
once, was explained the pretended Barnard's desire of co