“Sir!”

“Well, Senorita Isabella.”

“Enough of this,” she said, hastily and much excited.  “I must leave you now, captain.  It is neither fitting that I should hear, nor that you should utter such words as these to Isabella Gonzales.  Farewell!”

“Lady, farewell,” replied the prisoner, more by instinct than by any comprehension that she was actually about to leave him.

“I pray you, Captain Bezan, do not think that I cherish any unkind thoughts towards you,” she said, turning when at the door; “on the contrary, I am by no means unmindful of my indebtedness to you; but far be it from me to sanction a construction of my feelings or actions which my heart will not second.”

“Lady, your word is law to me,” replied the submissive prisoner.

When she had gone, and the rough grating of the turnkey’s instruments had done sounding in his ear, Captain Bezan remained a moment looking upon the slot where she had stood, with apparent amazement.  He could not realize that she had been there at all; and hardest of all, that she had left him so abruptly.  But her “farewell” still rang in his ears, and throwing himself upon his rude seat, with his face buried in his hands, he exclaimed: 

“Welcome, welcome death!  I would that thou wert here already!”

After a few moments thus passed, as it were, in the very depths of despair, he rose and walked his dreary cell in a sad and silent reverie, a reviewal of all these matters.

“How I have mistaken that beautiful creature, how idolized, how loved her!  I knew that there was much, ay, very much, of pride in her heart.  I knew the barriers that rose between her and me; but, alas, I thought them not so very at high, so very impregnable.  I would not, could not, have believed that she would have left me thus.  It was our last farewell.  She might have been more kind; might, without much risk of loss of pride have permitted me such a parting as should have rendered my last hours happy!  Alas! alas! what toys of fortune we are; what straws for every breeze to shake-for every wind to shatter!

“We set our hearts upon an object, and blinded by our warm desires, believe, like children, that which we hope for.  I have never paused to think in this matter of my love, I have been led ont too precipitately by the brilliancy of the star that I followed; its light blinded me to all other influences; and, too truly, I feel it, blinded me to reason also.  Isabella Gonzales, the belle of this brilliant city, the courted, beloved, rich, proud Isabella Gonzales; what else might I have expected, had one moment been permitted to me for reason, for cool reflection.  I was mad in my fond and passionate love; I was blind in my folly, to ever dream of success.  But the end will soon be here, and I shall be relieved from this agonizing fever at my heart, this woeful pain of disappointed love, of broken-heartedness.”

He folded his arms, and permitting his head to sink upon his breast, sat down, the very picture of despair.