Theodora is happy in the Elysium of love; a thousand
tender emotions swell that fond bosom, where an ardent flame burns under
the cover of pure snow.--As she gazes on Gomez Arias her melting eye is
lighted up with unusual fire, and her whole frame appears gently
agitated with a delicious tremor. The smile that quivers on her lip
feelingly responds to the ardent glance of her passionate admirer, and
the sudden rush of crimson that overspreads her lily cheek bespeaks the
thrilling transports of genuine love in the first stages of youthful
innocence and delight. Don Lope takes her soft yielding hand, and
tenderly presses it to his bosom, he gazes fervently on her countenance;
in sweet intoxication he inhales her youthful breath. Caressingly his
arm encircles her sylphic waist. She gently inclines her head towards
him, and both seemed overshadowed by the long beautiful tresses which
float in wild luxuriance. From Don Lope's flashing eye the innocent
Theodora drinks large draughts of sweet but deadly poison; a tear of
tenderness starts to overwhelm her eye and falls on the lover's hand; a
deep sigh escapes her bosom, and they meet in a fervent embrace.
Happy!--thrice happy moments!--dear to the genuine sensibility of
humanity, dearly cherished and oft alas! but too dearly purchased! Few
words the lovers spoke, for when the heart is replete with rapture,
there is an eloquence in silence far above the cold trammels of
language. Gomez Arias forgot the dream of future ambition in the reality
of present bliss. He was loved, loved passionately by one who was the
most perfect pattern of innocence and beauty; loved more than he thought
it was in the nature of woman to love. Hope assured its brightest
colours, and Don Lope anticipated all the transports of delight possible
for man to enjoy. He was supremely happy in expectation; for the
expectation of bliss is perhaps even more gratifying than the reality.
Thus the rose in its opening bloom, is sweeter than when its charms are
expanded to the sight, for the hour of maturity is but the signal of
decay. Alas! we eagerly follow the sparkling joy, snatch it with
enthusiasm, and it withers in the grasp!

Time sped; yet the lovers still remained as if entranced in a
delightful reverie of love, in the mutual interchange of soft sighs and
eloquent glances, when suddenly the door burst open, and Roque rushed in
with visible emotion. The faithful Argus came to announce the near
approach of Mon