"Oh, Lope, deliver me from him."
"No, young lady," returned the Moor, "you must now come with me."
"Oh, heaven!" she shrieked, "no, no, he cannot—he will not thus abandon me!—Oh, Lope!—my dear—my own beloved!—undeceive this barbarous, this abhorred Moor."
She appealed to her lover in the fervour of deep anguish,—he turned from her to depart; the moment was bitter; he felt the rankling pangs of remorse. The wretched girl clung to him,—he made one desperate struggle to disengage himself.
"Moor, take her," he cried with throbbing emotion, "but oh! deal thou more kindly by her than I have done. Here," he continued, "receive this, and see that she is treated with the regard which her beauty merits, and her misfortunes deserve. Act faithfully to thy pledge, or dread the worst effects of my vengeance."
He threw a large purse of gold upon the ground, which Malique lost no time in securing, whilst Cañeri, addressing Gomez Arias,—
"Christian," he said, "I fear not thy vengeance, and I value not thy gifts; the word of a Moor is plighted; I love the beauteous female, and these considerations will afford the best security for my conduct."
He then advanced to take the hand of Theodora, but she flew from him with a look of wildness that might have moved the very stones to pity.
"Oh! no, no, never! Gomez Arias, you may be cruel, but cannot be infamous.—Oh, do not, do not deliver me into the hands of the detested enemy of our country—the ferocious, the false Cañeri."
"What!" exclaimed Gomez Arias, surprised, "is this, then, Cañeri, the rebel chief?"