my comfort and
happiness: but you must forgive the weakness and fears of a fond woman's
heart. Forgive me, Lope, if these feelings should sometimes create ideas
galling at once to my peace, and derogatory to thy constancy and love. I
have laboured hard to subdue them, but, alas! the exertion has
constantly proved above my strength; I must give them utterance. Oh,
Lope," she added; mournfully, "I fear you are not the same. Pardon
me,--you are not the same, as when I first surrendered to you all my
affections, fondly imagining you were mine for ever."

"Not the same!" ejaculated Gomez Arias; "have my attentions been less
constant than from the first rapturous moment when you allowed me to
call you my own?"

A deep long rending sigh burst from the bosom of Theodora, and her whole
frame seemed to suffer from a painful recollection.

"No," she said, smiling sadly through her tears, "you watch with
solicitude over me, and you are lavish of endearments; but, alas! the
pure and soul-warm part of your affection I fear is flown."

"By my honor," said Gomez Arias, "I could never have expected these
unkind expressions from you."

"Oh! Lope," cried the affrighted girl; "do not heed me; think not of the
remarks to which my foolish fears give rise; I am ashamed of them
myself. I will no more disturb your mind; no, never more shall the
voice of complaint sound in your ears, and call forth the resentment of
your wounded feelings.--Ah! Gomez Arias, compose yourself, and be not
angry with your poor--your helpless Theodora."

As she uttered this affectionate appeal, her beautiful eyes were fixed
on Don Lope, with an expression in which all the tender, all the genuine
feelings of her heart seemed to be collected. Gomez Arias was softened;
his features relaxed from that sudden asperity which had for a moment
usurped the more habitual complacency of his countenance, and he
endeavoured to dispel from the mind of Theodora the impression which
such unkindness might produce.

They had now arrived at the summit of the little hill. It was a most
delightful spot. A sward of short pliant grass carpeted a romantic
little plain, skirted on one side by a portion of a forest, through
which the sun cast short and interrupted glances of his parting
splendour. Above the heads of the travellers, rose in dark grandeur the
majestic form of the Alpujarras; and beneath them, as far as the eye
could reach, was spread an extensive range of sylvan scenery,