In this manner the procession reached at length the Plaza de Bivarrambla. At the sight of the scaffold, Gomez Arias gave an involuntary start, for he was unable to stifle the impression which the first view of that dreadful spot made on his mind. He soon, however, recovered his usual composure, and cast an inquiring and intense look on the assembled multitude. Sorrow and consternation were every where visible, but all was tranquil and quiet. The last lingering hope now vanished from the breast of Gomez Arias, and he seemed resigned to the fate that awaited him. The murmur of the multitude was hushed into a deadly silence. Don Lope dismounted, ascended the scaffold, and turning to his soldiers, he said—
"Farewell, my brave companions; this is the last expedition in which we shall meet; but in this, as well as in all the former, Gomez Arias will display the coolness and courage which becomes a soldier." He then with equal resolution was about to bare his neck for the fatal stroke, when a piercing scream was heard at a distance in the crowd. Presently a female form was seen flying towards the scaffold—
"A pardon! a pardon!" shouted various voices; and the multitude joyfully opened a passage to the unfortunate. She ran with frantic speed, until she arrived at length, exhausted, at the foot of the scaffold, exhibiting in the disorder of her person and the wild expression of her features, all the workings of terror, anxiety, and joy. Every one stood mute with astonishment when they beheld in this apparition the wretched Theodora, who flew up the steps of the scaffold, holding aloft in her trembling hand a paper; then throwing herself into the arms of her husband—
"Oh it is not too late," she cried eagerly; "I have brought your pardon. Here! here! You are safe—it is the Queen's signet."
Count de Tendilla took the paper from her hand, and read joyfully aloud the pardon of Gomez Arias. Theodora looked wildly around, her large beautiful eyes fraught with terror: she gazed upon the appalling scene, as though still fearful that the execution would not be suspended.
"Read! read!" she cried vehemently to Count de Tendilla: "it is the Queen's order. A messenger will soon arrive; but I am here first. I came to save my husband."
These few electric words were followed by a shout of tumultuous applause from the assembled throng.
The messenger indeed arrived. Theodora uttered a wild scream of joy, and her feelings, unable any longer to support the efforts she had made, overpowered her, and she fainted in the arms of Gomez Arias.
Even Gomez Arias, that man so hardened to all the tender pleadings of gratitude, was at length overcome. As he beheld her who had returned his coldness with affection, and repaid his cruelty with kindness—as he considered that miracle of love and goodness lying lifeless in his arms, a tear stood trembling in his eye—one solitary tear; but that testimonial of feeling in Gomez Arias was equivalent to years of sorrow in other men. He tenderly pressed Theodora to his heart, and the fond embrace seemed to recall her suspended animation. She opened her languid eyes and was happy; for she saw the object of all her care and affection now watching with tender solicitude her returning life.
"Oh Theodora," cried Don Lope, in a voice almost inarticulate with emotion, "I am unworthy of you. How can I ever atone for so many wrongs? This is indeed a noble vengeance."