[3] A town in the straits of Gibraltar, the most southern point of
        the continent of Europe.

From these towers there are no visible means of escape:  in the chambers, the windows are merely circular holes in walls at least six feet in thickness; and the outside walls being entirely smooth, there are no means of descent from the summit unless by a fearful leap of a hundred and sixty feet into the sea; for on the side towards the town, a wall of twenty feet high shuts out the prospect of land; serving at the same time as a hindrance to any communication, and as an aggravation of punishment, by shutting out from the eye of the prisoner, the cheerful lights of human habitations, or perhaps even, it might be, the dim view of human forms.  It only requires to be added to this description, that a ponderous iron chain stretches from one tower to the other, across the mouth of the port, depending from fastenings situated about two feet below the summit of each, but forming a curve by its own weight; and in the centre, reaching to within twenty or thirty feet of the surface of the water, from which point, other chains are attached, reaching horizontally to the towers on either side.  It is needless to say, that during the day this great chain is lowered into the water when vessels desire to enter; but at night, it is again raised; and there being rumours of war at this period, no ships were admitted during the night,—­the chain being a security against an enemy entering, and cutting out vessels under favour of the darkness.

[By aid of a telescope, he recognises on the opposite tower a fair prisoner, “the lovely Isabel,” who had been confined there upwards of a year for conspiring to murder her first husband.  The hero by aid of the chain, swings to Isabel’s tower, where they concert an escape.]

As Isabel pressed closer to me, I felt, that, although far from agreeable to sojourn in such a place, even with Isabel, this would yet be greatly preferable to solitude.  But to such a project, many serious difficulties presented themselves:  I represented to Isabel, that if I did not reach the opposite tower that night, it would be discovered, when the food put into my cell remained untasted, that I was gone; and as the conclusion would necessarily be, that I had leaped into the sea, no more food would be put into my cell, and consequently, when I did return, I should die of hunger.  “But,” said Isabel, “why return ever?  Providence seems to delight in throwing us together,—­and if, as unhappily seems too true, the doom of both of us be to live and die in these towers, why should we not——­”

“Live and die together, you would say;” and, in truth, there was reason in this proposal of Isabel.  “Why, indeed, should we not?” said I; but in yielding so readily to this suggestion, I looked farther than Isabel did.  Isabel had doubtless many charms,—­and here, I should at least have nothing to fear from rivals; but that which weighed with me fully as much as the prospect of a honey-moon, was this,—­that a man who is supposed to be dead, has greater facilities of escape,—­and so, without at that time saying any thing upon this subject to Isabel, I acquiesced in the proposal of changing my quarters, and being her guest for the present.