onted moisture gather in his eyes, or his heart swell with an
emotion never felt before.

"Now blessings on thy true woman's heart, my Isabel!" exclaimed the
King, tenderly drawing her from the couch of the dead. "I dare vouch
not one of us, mourning the noble dead, has, till now, cast a thought
upon the living. And who shall breathe these fearful tidings? Who
prepare the unfortunate Marie for the loss awaiting her, and yet tarry
to behold and soothe her anguish?"

"That will I do," replied the Queen, instantly. "None else will
prepare her so gently, so kindly; for none knew her husband's worth so
well, or can mourn his loss more deeply. She shall come hither. And
the murderer," she continued after a brief pause, and the change
was almost startling from the tender sympathy of the Woman to the
indignant majesty of the Queen--"Ferdinand, have they told me true as
to his person--is he secured?"

"Ay," answered the King, briefly and bitterly: and from respect to his
feelings, Isabella asked no more. Orders were issued for the body to
be laid in one of the state apartments; a guard to be stationed at the
entrance of the chamber, and measures taken to keep the events of that
fatal night profoundly secret, lest confusion should be aroused in the
easily excited populace, or her terrible loss too rudely reach the
ears of the most painfully bereaved. These orders were punctually
obeyed.

CHAPTER XV.

"Yet again methinks
Some unknown sorrow, ripe in Future's womb,
Is coming towards me; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles. At something it grieves
More than the parting with my lord."

SHAKSPEARE.

Long did Marie Morales linger where her husband had left her after his
strangely passionate farewell. His tone, his look, his embrace haunted
her almost to pain--all were so unlike his wonted calmness: her full
heart so yearned towards him that she would have given worlds, if she
had had them, to call him to her side once more--to conjure him again
to forgive and assure her of his continued trust--to tell him she was
happy, and asked no other love than his. Why had he left her so early?
when she felt as if she had so much to say--so much to confide. And
then her eye caught the same ominous cloud which had so strangely
riveted Don Ferdinand's gaze, and a sensation of awe stole over her,
retaining her by the casement as by some spell which she vainly strove
to resist; until the forked lightnings began to i