"And did she love my lord back again?"
"Thou askest me what I cannot with certainty answer," replied the cavalier, "for she was snatched away from me, before I had yet overcome the natural scruples of my pride to discourse of love to one who seemed so much beneath the dignity of my birth and fortunes."
"And my lord gave her no cause to think she had obtained favour in his eyes?"
"In this thou dost not err; for, saving some gifts, which were, indeed, more the boons of a patron than the tribute of a lover, I did nothing to address me to her affections. In all things, as I may say, I did rather assume the character of one who would befriend and protect her from wrong, than of a man seeking after her love."
"But, if she accepted my lord's gifts, she must have loved him," said Jacinto.
"They were very trifles," rejoined the cavalier, "saving only one, indeed, which, as she must have perceived, could not have been more properly bestowed than upon one so innocent and friendless as herself. This was a very antique and blessed jewel,—a cross of rubies,—fetched by mine ancestor, Don Rodrigo of Arragon, more than three hundred years ago, from the Holy Land, after having been consecrated upon the Sepulchre itself. It was thought to be a talisman of such heavenly efficacy, in the hands of an unspotted virgin, that no harm could ever come to her, who wore it upon her neck. For mine own part, though I could tell thee divers stories of its virtue, recorded in our house, yet was I ever inclined to think, that a natural purity of heart was, in all cases, a much better protection of innocence than even a holy talisman. Nevertheless, when I beheld this orphan Moor, I bethought me of the imputed virtues of those rubies; and I put them upon her neck, as thinking her friendless condition gave her the strongest claim to all such blessed protection."
"A cross of rubies!" cried the page; "it is she!"
"And thou canst tell me of her resting-place? and of her present condition?" cried the overjoyed cavalier. "I remember, that, at the temple of Tlascala, thou didst aver, that, notwithstanding the apparent baseness of her origin, it had been discovered that she was descended of very noble parentage!"
"What I can tell thee, and what I will," said Jacinto, gravely, "will depend upon thine own actions. If thou leavest this place, without my father's consent, hope not that thou shalt know any thing more than has been spoken. If thou art content to remain a little time in captivity, and to yield me the obedience which I demand, thou shalt find, that a child of a contemned race may possess wisdom unknown to men of happier degrees. Thou hast acknowledged thyself the captive of my father; wilt thou promise obedience to me?"
Don Amador surveyed the boy with a bewildered stare: