[TERESA looks at MONVIEDRO with disgust and

horror. ORDONIO's appearance to be collected from what follows.

MONVIEDRO. (to Valdez and pointing at Ordonio.)

What is he ill, my Lord? how strange he looks!

VALDEZ. (angrily.)

You pressed upon him too abruptly, father!
The fate of one, on whom, you know, he doted.

ORDONIO. (starting as in sudden agitation.)
O Heavens! I?-I doted? (then recovering himself.)
Yes! I doted on him.

[ORDONIO walks to the end of the stage, Valdez follows, soothing him.

TERESA. (her eye following Ordonio.)

I do not, can not, love him. Is my heart hard?
Is my heart hard? that even now the thought
Should force itself upon me ?-Yet I feel it!

MONVIEDRO.

The drops did start and stand upon his forehead!
I will return. In very truth, I grieve

To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me woman!

ALHADRA. (to Teresa.)

O gentle lady! make the father stay,
Until my lord recover. I am sure,
That he will say he is my husband's friend.

TERESA.

Stay, father! stay! my lord will soon recover. ORDONIO, (as they return to VALDEZ.)

Strange, that this Monviedro

Should have the power so to distemper me!

VALDEZ.

Nay, 'twas an amiable weakness, son!

MONVIEDRO.

My lord, I truly grieve

ORDONIO.

Tut! name it not.

A sudden seizure, father! think not of it.

As to this woman's husband, I do know him.
I know him well, and that he is a Christian.

MONVIEDRO.

I hope, my lord, your merely human pity
Doth not prevail -

ORDONIO.

'Tis certain that he was a catholic;

What changes may have happened in three years,
I can not say; but grant me this, good father:
Myself I'll sift him: if I find him sound,
You'll grant me your authority and name
To liberate his house.

MONVIEDRO.

Your zeal, my lord

And your late merits in this holy warfare
Would authorize an ampler trust-you have it.

ORDONIO.

I will attend you home within an hour.

VALDEZ.

Meantime return with us and take refreshment.

ALHADRA.

Not till my husband's free ! I may not do it.

I will stay here.

With your permission, my dear lord,
I'll loiter yet awhile t'enjoy the sea breeze.

[Exeunt Valdez, Monviedro and Ordonio.

ALHADRA.

Hah! there he goes! a bitter curse go with him,
A scathing curse!

(then as if recollecting herself, and with a timid look) You hate him, don't you, lady?

TERESA. (perceiving that Alhadra is conscious she has spoken imprudently.)

Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you.

ALHADRA.

These fell inquisitors! these sons of blood!
As I came on, his face so maddened me,
That ever and anon I clutched my dagger

And half unsheathed it

TERESA.

Be more calm, I pray you.

ALHADRA.

And as he walked along the narrow path

Close by the mountain's edge, my soul grew eager;
'Twas with hard toil I made myself remember
That his Familiars held my babes and husband.
To have leapt upon him with a tyger's plunge,
And hurl'd him down the rugged precipice,

O, it had been most sweet!

TERESA.

Hush! hush for shame!

Where is your woman's heart?

ALHADRA.

O gentle lady!

You have no skill to guess my many wrongs,

Many and strange! Besides, (ironically) I am a

Christian,

And Christians never pardon-'tis their faith!

TERESA.

Shame fall on those who so have shewn it to thee!

ALHADRA.

I know that man; 'tis well he knows not me.
Five years ago (and he was the prime agent)
Five years ago the holy brethren seized me.

TERESA.

What might your crime be?

ALHADRA.

I was a Moresco!

They cast me, then a young and nursing mother,
Into a dungeon of their prison house,
Where was no bed, no fire, no ray of light,
No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air,
It was a toil to breathe it! when the door,
Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed
One human countenance, the lamp's red flame
Cowered as it entered, and at once sunk down.
Oh miserable! by that lamp to see
My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread
Brought daily: for the little wretch was sickly-
My rage had dried away its natural food.
In darkness I remained-the dull bell counting,
Which haply told me, that the all-cheering Sun
Was rising on our Garden. When I dozed,
My infant's moanings mingled with my slumbers
And waked me. If you were a mother, lady,