A low growl from the dog who shared the robe, announced an intruder, and the next moment the Padre joined them.  He was joyfully hailed by De Garcia as an ally; but a dark look of hatred gleamed from Inez’s eyes, as they rested on his form:  it vanished instantly, and she welcomed him with a smile.  She was cognizant of his interview with Nevarro, for her window overlooked the street in which it took place.  She knew, too, his powers of intrigue; that they were enlisted against her; and a glance sufficed to show the path to be pursued.  Long ago her penetrating eye had probed the mask of dissimulation which concealed, like the “silver veil” of Mokanna, a great deformity:  how much greater because, alas! a moral one.

Father Mazzolin inquired, with apparent interest, the cause of contention.  The Don gave a detailed account, and wound up by applying to him for support, in favor of Nevarro.  The look of sorrowful astonishment with which he listened, compelled Inez to fix her large Spanish eyes on the ground, lest he should perceive the smile which lurked in their corners, and half played round her lip.

He rebuked her gently, and spoke briefly of the evils which would result, if she persisted in her wilful and ungrateful course.  Inez listened with a meekness which surprised both parent and Padre; and when the latter rose to go, approached, and, in a low tone, requested him to meet her, that day week, in the confessional.

Woman’s heart is everywhere the same, and in the solitude of her own apartment, Inez’s softer feelings found full vent.  She sat with her face in her hands, one long deep; sigh, which struggled up, telling of the secret pain that was withering her joys and clouding her future.  Suddenly she started up, and passionately exclaimed,

“It is hard that his love should be wasted, on one whose heart is as cold and stony as this wall;” and she struck it impatiently.  Then drawing forth the glove, which on Manuel’s entrance had been so hastily secreted, she pressed it repeatedly to her lips, returned it to its hiding-place, and sought her couch.

CHAPTER VII.

  “What cause have we to build on length of life: 
   Temptations seize when fear is laid asleep;
   And ill-foreboded is our strongest guard.”

   Young.

St. ——­’s dawn was welcomed by joyous peals from the church-bells, and the occasional firing of a few muskets, by way of accompaniment.  The sun rose with a brilliance which would have awakened deep tones in Memnon’s statue, and gilded mountain and valley.  Beautiful beyond description the city looked in his golden light, and

  “All nature seemed rejoicing.”