Page images
PDF
EPUB

OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

THE ANGLO-SPANISH BRIDE. paid, for which they had a draft upon

(Concluded.)

CHAPTER V.

THAT night, then, the vessel set sail; and the wind being fair, after touching on the French coast, and taking in the papers necessary for its admission into a Spanish port, in thirty days it entered within the bar of Cadiz, where Isabella's parents and herself disembarked; and the former, being speedily recognized by the whole city, were welcomed with every mark of satisfaction. They received a thousand congratulations on their recovery of Isabella, as also on their own deliverance out of the hands of the Moors who had captured them (for that circumstance had been learned from the captives whom Ricaredo's generosity had liberated), and on the liberty which the English had granted them.

Already did Isabella begin to shew strong signs of one day recovering her former beauty. For a little more than a month they remained at Cadiz, resting from the fatigues of their voyage; and then they went to Seville, to see if the ten thousand ducats would be duly

the French merchant. Two days after their arrival, they looked out for him, found him, and delivered to him the letter they had brought from the French merchant of London. He recognized it as genuine; and told them, that he could not pay the money until the letters and the advice should duly reach him from Paris; but that he was in daily expectation of their arrival.

Isabella's parents hired a good house, fronting the convent of Santa Paula; for one of the nuns in that religious house was their niece, remarkable for the exquisite sweetness of her voice; and so they chose that situation, both in order to have her near them, and because Isabella had told Ricaredo, that if he came to look for her, he would find her at Seville, where her cousin, the nun of Santa Paula's, would tell him the place of her abode; and that in order to find her cousin, he would only need to inquire for the nun with the finest voice in the whole convent-which token he would be sure not to forget.

It was forty days longer before the

advices from Paris arrived; and two days after their arrival, the French merchant delivered the ten thousand ducats to Isabella, and she to her parents; with which sum, together with something more, which they realized by disposing of some of Isabella's numerous jewels, her father resumed his mercantile profession, to the wonder of those who were acquainted with his heavy losses. In a few months, his ruined credit began to be re-established, and Isabella's charms regained their former perfection so thoroughly, that when female beauty was the theme, all awarded the palm to La Espanolu Inglesa, by which name, as well as by her beauty, she was known to the whole city.

Through the hands of the French merchant at Seville, Isabella and her parents wrote to the Queen of England an account of their arrival, with all the expressions of gratitude and submission called for by the many favours they had received from her. They like wise wrote to Clotaldo and the lady Catalina; Isabella calling them her father and mother, and her parents, their master and mistress. From the queen they had no reply; but from Clotaldo and his lady they received one, congratulating them on their safe arrival, and informing them that their son Ricaredo, the next day after they set sail, had departed for France, and thence to other parts, whither it behoved him to go for the security of his conscience; adding other matters in their letter, in terms of great affection, with many kind assurances. To this letter they wrote an answer, no less courteous and affectionate than it was grateful.

Isabella at once imagined, that Ricaredo had quitted England on purpose to come and look for her in Spain. Encouraged by this hope, she lived perfectly happy; and strove to spend her time in such a manner that when Ricaredo should arrive at Seville, the fame of her virtues should reach his ears even before the place of her abode. She seldom or never went out of her own house, except to the convent; nor appeared in any holiday processions, but such as took place there. It was only in her thoughts that she went from her oratory at home, on the Fridays in Lent, the most holy station of the cross, and the seven venideros of the Holy Spirit. She never visited the river; nor went to Triana; nor attended the general rejoicing at the field of Tablada and the Xeres gate, on the great holiday of St.

Sebastian, which multitudes almost countless assemble to celebrate. In short, she never went to any public or other festivity in Seville; she passed the whole time in her seclusion, her prayers, and her virtuous desires, expecting Ricaredo.

This close retirement of hers, inflamed the desires not only of the gallants of that quarter of the town, but of all who had once beheld her; whence her street was haunted by music in the night, and by cantering horsemen in the day. This studious keeping herself from view, and the desire of so many to see her, occasioned, too, the enriching of the toilettes of divers kind ladies who undertook to be the first in soliciting Isabella; and some there were who thought fit to try the effect of magical spells, although they are nothing but absurdity and delusion. But against all, Isabella was proof, as the rock in the midst of the ocean is, against the winds and waves which beat against it, but move it not.

A year and a half had already elapsed, when the approaching expiration of the two years' term assigned by Ricaredo, began more than ever to swell the heart of Isabella with anxious expectancy. Already did she fancy her husband arriving-that she had him before her eyeswas asking him what obstacles had detained him so long;-already was she listening to his excuses; already was she forgiving him, embracing him, and receiving him to her inmost heart ;-when there came to her hands a letter from the lady Catalina, dated at London fifty days before, and written in English, as follows:

"My dearest daughter,-you well know Ricaredo's servant, Guillarte. This man went with him on the journey which, in a former letter, I informed you that Ricaredo had taken to France and elsewhere, the day after your departure.

"This same Guillarte, then, at the end of six months, during which we had no tidings of my son, entered our gates yesterday with the news that Earl Arnesto had treacherously slain Ricaredo in France. Only think, my daughter, what his father and I, and his wife, must have felt at this intelligence, which was such as left us no room to doubt of our misfortune.

"What Clotaldo and myself have once more to beg of you, my dearest daughter, is, that you will earnestly commend the soul of Ricaredo to God's mercy—a

benefit well merited by one who, as you know, loved you so well. You will also pray our Lord to grant us patience and a happy end—as we will supplicate him to grant them to thee, and to thy parents many years to live."

From the hand-writing, and the signature, Isabella could not doubt that the account of her husband's death was true. She knew his man Guillarte very well; she knew that he was accustomed to speak the truth, and could neither have had will nor occasion to fabricate that story of his master's death; still less could his mother the lady Catalina have invented it since she had now no interest in sending her such melancholy news. In short, she could neither find nor imagine anything to banish from her the conviction that the tidings of her calamity

were true.

When she had finished reading the letter without shedding a tear, or shewing any sign of grief-with a calm countenance, and seemingly tranquil bosom -she rose from a couch on which she was seated, walked into an oratory, and kneeling down before the sacred image of her crucified Redeemer, she vowed to take the monastic veil-which she might do, now that she considered herself a widow. Her parents prudently dissembled the pain which the mournful news had given them, that they might be able to console Isabella in the bitterness of hers. But she, as if her own grief were over, assuaged as it was by the holy and religious resolution she had taken, administered consolation to her parents.

She informed them of her intention; and they advised her not to execute it until the two years which Ricaredo had himself assigned as the term of his arrival should have expired; as the fact of his death would then be confirmed be yond a doubt, and she might change her condition with the greater security. To this Isabella consented; and the six months and a half which had to elapse before the two years should be completed, she employed in religious exercises, and in making the arrangements for her admission into the convent, having made choice of that of Santa Paula, in which her cousin was.

The two years' term at length expired, and the day for taking the veil arrived; the news of which spread through the city; and of those who knew. Isabella by sight, those who, attracted by her fame only, crowded the convent and the short space between it and her parents' house, the friends whom her father invited, and

others whom they brought with them, was composed for Isabella one of the most distinguished attendances that had ever been seen in Seville on the like occasion.

There were present the assistente, or chief magistrate of the city, the provisor of the cathedral, and the archbishop's vicar, with all the noblesse of title that were then in the town; so great a desire had they all to look upon the splendour of Isabella's beauty, which for so many months had been eclipsed from their view.

As it is the custom for young women when about to take the veil, to go as elegantly dressed as possible--as preparing to cast off all remains of worldly vanity-Isabella resolved to apparel herself as brilliantly as she could; and so she put on the very same dress that she had worn when she went for the first time before the queen of England, the richness and splendour of which have already been described. The pearls and the magnificent diamond ring were brought forth, together with the valuable necklace and girdle. In this array, and with her graceful step, giving occasion for all who beheld her to bless God in her glorious countenance, Isabella set out from her home on foot, as its close vicinity to the convent rendered the use of carriages unnecessary.

They found the concourse of people, however, so great as to make them regret that they had not ordered the carriages; for it was with difficulty that they could make their way to the convent. Some blessed her parents; others blessed heaven that had gifted her with so much beauty; some stood on tiptoe to look at her; others, having seen her once, ran forward to look at her again;

and the person who seemed to do so the most eagerly-so much so, indeed, that it was remarked by many-was a man in the dress worn by captives lately redeemed, with a badge of the order of the Trinity on his breast, in token of his having been ransomed by the alms of his deliverers.

This captive, then, at the very moment when Isabella was just stepping under the porch of the convent, into which, according to custom, the prioress and nuns, with the cross, were come out to receive her, cried out aloud, "Stay, Isabella, stay-for while I am alive, thou canst not take the veil."

At this exclamation, Isabella and her parents looked round, and saw the redeemed captive in question, making his

way towards them through the crowd; and a round light-blue hat which he wore, falling from his head, discovered a profusion of tangled locks, hanging in golden ringlets, and a complexion of mingled white and carnation, which at once told all who beheld him, that he was a foreigner. At length, stumbling along as well as he was able, he arrived where Isabella was; and laying hold of her hand, he said, hurriedly-"Do you know me, Isabella? In me you see your husband Ricaredo."

"Yes," said Isabella, "I do know you-if, indeed, you be not a phantom, come only to disturb me."

Her parents took hold of him, looked earnestly in his face; and soon recognized Ricaredo himself in the person of the captive; while he, falling on his knees before Isabella, entreated her that the strangeness of the garb in which she beheld him might not hinder her full recognition, nor his fallen fortune prevent her from keeping the word which they had pledged to each other.

Isabella, notwithstanding the impression made upon her mind by the letter from Ricaredo's mother, containing the news of his death, was inclined to give more credit to the evidence of her eyes, as to the fact before her; and so, embracing the captive, she said, "You, my dearest sir, are undoubtedly he who alone can hinder my religious determinationyou are undoubtedly the partner of my soul-for you are indeed my husbandyour image is engraven on my memory, and treasured in my heart. The tidings which my lady, your mother, wrote me of your death, although, indeed, they did not take my life, made me devote it to the cloister, which at this very moment I was going to enter. But since God, by interposing so just an impediment, shews his will to be otherwise, it is not in our power, nor does it become me, to oppose it. Come, sir, to my parents' house, which is your own; and there I will become yours, according to the forms which our holy catholic faith requires.'

All this discourse being heard by the bystanders, and among the rest by the assistente, and the archbishop's vicar and provisor, filled them with wonder and amazement; and they desired to be immediately informed what all that story was about, who that stranger was, and what marriage they were talking of.

To this, Isabella's father made answer, that the story required a different place, and some little time, wherein to tell it;

and so he begged of all those who desired to know it, that they would go back to his house, since it was so short a distance; and that there it should be related to them in such wise, that they should rest satisfied of its truth, and in admiration at so great and extraordinary an event.

Here one of the spectators called out aloud :-" Sirs, that youth is a great English corsair-I know him well-it was he that, a little more than two years ago, took from the Algerine pirates the Portuguese ship coming from the Indies. Without doubt he is the samefor I know him, because he gave me my liberty, and money wherewith to go to Spain-and not to me only, but to three hundred captives besides."

These words caused a fresh sensation among the multitude, and made them all additionally eager to hear the explanation of so intricate a matter. In fine, the principal among the persons present, including the assistente and the two ecclesiastical dignitaries, attended Isabella back to her own house, leaving the nuns in sorrow, disappointment, and tears, at the loss which they sustained in failing to add the beauteous Isabella to their sisterhood.

CHAP. VI.

Having entered a large saloon in her parents' house, Isabella made those who accompanied her be seated. And although Ricaredo was ready to enter upon the relation of his story, yet he thought he had better entrust it to the judicious lips of Isabella than to his own, which were not very fluent in the Castilian language.

The whole company were silent, listening with breathless attention to the words of Isabella, who now commenced her narrative-which I must sum up by saying, that she told them all that had happened to her from the day when Clotaldo stole her from Cadiz, until her return to that place-relating also Ricaredo's battle with the Turks, his generosity to the Christian captives-the troth which they had mutually plighted

his promise to join her within two years and the news she had received of his death, the apparent certainty of which had led her to the resolution which they had witnessed, of entering the cloister. She extolled the generosity of the queen, the religious constancy of Ricaredo and his parents, and ended with saying, that Ricaredo would inform them what had happened to him since

his departure from London, until the present moment that they saw him in the garb of a captive, with a badge denoting that he had been ransomed by alms.

"I have so," said Ricaredo; "and now in few words let me sum up the long story of my vicissitudes.

"After my departure from London, to avoid the marriage which I could not contract with Clisterna, the young Scottish catholic whom, as Isabella has told you, my parents wished me to marry, taking with me Guillarte, the man who, as my mother writes, carried to London the news of my death,-passing through France, I arrived at Rome, where my soul was comforted, and my faith strengthened: I kissed the feet of the supreme pontiff; and confessed my sins to the grand-penitentiary, from whom I received absolution, and the necessary certifications of my confession and repentance, and the entire submission which I had made to our universal mother the Church. I then visited the numberless holy places in that holy city; and of two thousand escudos which I had in gold, I delivered sixteen hundred to an exchange-broker, who gave me an order for that amount upon one Roqui, a Florentine, residing in this city. With the remaining four hundred, intending to come to Spain, I set out for Genoa, where I had learned that there were two galleys belonging to that state, about to depart for Spain.

"I arrived, with my servant Guillarte, at a place called Aquapendente, which, on the way from Rome to Florence, is the last in the papal states; and at an inn there, at which I alighted, I found Earl Arnesto, my mortal enemy, who, with four servants in disguise, and more for the sake of curiosity than religion, was going, I understood, to Rome. Feeling certain that they had not recognized me, I shut myself up in a room with my servant, anxiously awaiting the nightfall, at which hour I had resolved to remove to another inn. This, however, I did not do, for I satisfied myself, from the careless air of the Earl and his attendants, that I had not been discovered. I supped in my chamberfastened the door-laid my sword readycommended myself to God-but thought it better not to go to bed. My servant was sleeping soundly, and I myself was slumbering in a chair, when, a little after midnight, I was awakened by those who sought to make me sleep the sleep everlasting. Four pistols were dis

charged at me, as I afterwards learned, by the Earl and his servants; and, leaving me for dead, having got their horses ready to start, they rode off, telling the innkeeper to bury me, for that I was a man of rank. My servant, as the innkeeper afterwards told me, awoke at the noise; and, in his fright, jumped out at a window looking into a small court, and crying out, "Woe is me !— they've killed my master!" ran out of the inn with such terror, as it should seem, that he never stopped until he got to London-since it was he that carried thither the news of my death.

"The people of the inn came up, and found me pierced with four bullets and a number of small shot, but in such parts that not one of the wounds was mortal. I asked to be confessed, and to receive the other sacraments, like a true catholic. They were administered accordingly; I received surgical aid; and in two months' time, but not before, I was able to continue my journey, and proceed to Genoa, where I found that no passage was to be obtained, except in two feluccas, which were hired by two Spanish gentlemen and myself; the one to go before on the look out, the other to carry ourselves.

"With this precaution, we embarked, and navigated coastwise, not intending to cross the Gulf; but on reaching a point off the French coast called Les Trois Maries, with our first felucca keeping the look-out, there came suddenly out of a creek, two Turkish galiots, which, the one taking us on the side towards the sea, and the other on that next the land when we were preparing to make for it, shut us in between them, and captured us. They no sooner had us on board, than they stripped us even to the skin. They took out of the feluccas everything they contained, and then, instead of sinking them, let them drift ashore, saying that they would serve them some other time to convey another galima, as they call the plunder which they take from the Christians.

"You may well believe me when I say, that I felt my captivity to the bottom of my heart, and more especially the loss of the papers I had brought from Rome, which I carried in a tin case, together with the bill for the sixteen hundred ducats. But my better fortune so ordained it that they fell into the hands of a Christian captive, a Spaniard, who took care of them; for had they come into the possession of the Turks, I should have had to pay for my ransom the

« PreviousContinue »