"'Twas unfortunate though, that love should have brought about his death: in his last moment he said something concerning love; and who knows but this young maiden"—
Theodora heard no more,—she uttered a faint smothered scream, and fell lifeless into the arms of Malique.
"Give help! give help! she faints! poor damsel—Get some water from the brook."
They halted a moment, and sprinkling the reviving liquid over Theodora's face, succeeded in recalling her back to life. Malique then endeavoured to administer words of comfort to the distressed girl, but he was utterly unsuccessful; a settled gloom pervaded her soul, and she discarded the very idea of consolation. Thus they continued to travel during the night, till the first gleams of the dawning day brought to their view the outline of a village enveloped in the morning mist.—As they gently advanced, the scene enlarged, and the shade gradually rolling off, a little quiet town became at length perceptible, shining in the first rays of the sun, and fresh with silvery drops of the dew. The sombre aspect of the Alpujarras began to lose its sterner frown in the loveliness and animation of the morning hour. But alas! it brought no comfort to the desponding heart of Theodora. Deep and poignant as her sorrows were, she felt conscious that a yet more dreadful fate awaited her; she was about to be offered a victim to the lawless desires of a ruffian, and an infidel. Death alone could release her from so degrading a destiny; but even death, that last melancholy consolation, was denied to her. She prayed fervently to heaven, and her supplications, pronounced in the sincerity of her heart, served only to console her. No help came: eagerly she cast her eyes around, and clung with fond endearment to the wildest hopes that ever fancy created.—She hailed with a fluttering expectation the least sound, for in it she was willing to fancy a deliverer. The distant tramp of a horse, or the bark of a dog, failed not to raise hopes which tended only to render her distress more poignant by disappointment.
Her mind, worn out in this conflict, began to lose its powers of consciousness, and as they approached the town, she gradually fell into a state of passive despair. She saw without emotion a group of men standing at the entrance, who, in conjunction with some ragged children, as soon as she was perceived, raised an exulting shout.
A Christian captive! a Christian captive!—And presently three or four armed Moors came forward, to whom Malique related his adventure. They then proceeded altogether through the principal street of the town of Alhacen, which was at that time the headquarters of the Moors, who fell within the jurisdiction of the rebel chief Cañeri. The town presented a most dismal and disconsolate aspect; the inhabitants bearing in their appearance a proof of their miserable wandering life, and seeming all prepared to abandon their precarious tenements at the first summons. Indeed the late losses which they had sustained, and more especially the surrender of Lanjaron, contributed, to keep them in a state of continual alarm. This feeling was considerably augmented by the intelligence they had just now received, that Alonso de Aguilar, the most renowned and the most redoubtable of their enemies, was rapidly advancing against El Feri de Benastepar. However, as they had nothing to lose,—no riches to abandon—no pleasures to relinquish—no comforts to forget, the expression of their countenances exhibited a cold resignation, blended with gloomy ferocity.
The party that conducted Theodora having traversed the town, stopt at its extremity, before a house which appeared somewhat in better order than the rest, in front of which several armed Moors were pacing to and fro.
Malique demanded an immediate interview with Cañeri, which was denied him on the plea that the chief was at the moment deeply engaged in a conference with the most important amongst the Moors. Soon after, however, a short broad-faced ugly fellow made his appearance, and with demonstrations of joy welcomed Malique, who was his kinsman.
"By our holy prophet, Malique, I am glad to see thee return with such a goodly sport:—Cañeri is not to be interrupted now, but thou mayest be sure of a good reward."
Aboukar, for such was the Moor's name, then ushered in his kinsman. Every one seemed to pay great respect and deference to the little man; it was with reason, for he acted in no less a capacity than master of the household to the mountain sovereign of the place. Meantime Theodora was intrusted to the care of an old hag, wife to Aboukar, and a renegade Christian. She conducted her ward to a little narrow apartment, where having placed some refreshments, she recommended Theodora to partake of them, and retired.