We must once more return to the cell of the younger Gonçalo Christovaö, in the Jungueira prison. The person who entered, narrowly scrutinised the features of all the occupants; the only one of whom that seemed rather uneasy under his glance being the good Frè Diogo.
“What! you here, and in this disguise, my old friend,” he said, laughing. “Are you caught at last, then?”
“I am in no disguise, but in the habit of the order to which I belong, Senhor Antonio,” said the Friar.
“It matters not—my business is not with you, but with the Senhor Conde d’Almeida, if he will favour me with his company,” said the stranger.
Luis started as he spoke, for he recognised the officer of police who had assisted him in his search for Clara; and he fully believed that he had now come to conduct him to some other prison.
“I shall be ready to follow you when I have taken farewell of my friends,” he answered.
Antonio approached him, and whispered in his ear, “Fear not, I come to set you at liberty.”
Delightful words to a prisoner! A thrill of joy shot through the Count’s heart—he might yet be able to rescue Clara! “Stay,” he answered; “a few minutes are precious. Senhor Gonçalo, I have the means of conveying the order to the Lady Abbess to set your fair daughter at freedom.”
Writing materials were soon procured by the kind-hearted gaoler, and the important document being written, and signed by the fidalgo, he committed it to the care of Luis, saying, as he did so, “Should better times come round, and should you regain your liberty, and your fortune, to no one would I more gladly consign my child’s happiness.”
“My liberty I trust to regain, but my fortune, alas! is irretrievably gone,” answered the Count, despondingly.