The Prime Minister

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I see how it is,” said the Captain; “there is but one way for it. What hour is it? Not ten: then the Minister will yet see me. He is a stern ruler when political necessity demands it, but he has yet a kind heart. Let me see, I know all the story.” Without waiting to hear what anybody might say, the Captain hurried away.

Scarcely had he gone, when Pedro rushed into the room, embracing his master’s knees, in his joy at seeing him alive, and at liberty; but Luis was obliged to hurry him away, to bring a change of raiment from his lodgings, and to procure horses, and make other preparations for his journey.

We need not give the interesting conversation which ensued between the uncle and nephew; one important part of it was, that the former informed the latter that he would find five hundred pounds at his immediate disposal on his arrival in England; and that he had already settled the bulk of a far larger fortune than his family had ever possessed upon him, nor did he doubt, if he was in time to prevent Donna Clara from taking the veil, that her father would longer hesitate to bestow her upon him.

The Captain now returned in high spirits. “I told him the whole story, how the fidalgo had shut up his daughter in a convent, and how you wished to release her: so, as he hates the system of convents, and, I verily believe, would like to thwart what he imagines the fidalgo’s wishes, he has given you a passport, and an order for horses wherever you may require them, besides an order to the Lady Abbess to deliver Donna Clara de Christovaö into the charge of Don Luis d’Almeida: so now, the sooner you are off, after taking a little rest, the better. I sail to-morrow by day-break; and shall land at Oporto, while my ship cruises outside. I will wait for you, and take you on board after you have seen the lady, and restored her to her home.”

This plan being arranged, and Pedro having returned, and reported that he had selected a couple of strong horses for the journey, the Captain repaired on board his ship; and Luis endeavoured to snatch an hour’s sleep before the horses were in readiness. Long before daylight he was in the saddle, after taking an affectionate farewell of his newly-found uncle. He had a journey of full one hundred and fifty miles before him, over rough roads, with dangers of all sorts; but he thought not of them, his only consideration being how he could most quickly perform the distance. The time of year was in his favour, but three days was the very least he could hope to do it in, and all depended on finding fresh horses on the road.

“Pedro!” he exclaimed; “we ride for life and death! You will not desert me? We must place Leiria to the south of us before we rest.”

“Fear me not, my dear master, I will follow wherever you lead,” answered Pedro, with enthusiasm; and away the two horsemen galloped; and before the sun rose, Lisbon was many leagues behind them. So well did the horses perform their work, that it was still daylight when they reached the gates of Leiria. The Count, with the magic order from the Minister, instantly went in search of fresh steeds. Of course, no one had them, till he fortunately encountered an old acquaintance, who indicated to him where they were to be found; and, with delight, he soon discovered two, fresh and strong for the road. The surprise of the inhabitants was great indeed to see the travellers again in their saddles, and galloping out of the town. Night overtook them just as they reached the little inn, where, two years before, their adventure with the banditti had occurred; but they thought not of danger, as they threw themselves from their saddles, and, seeing their horses carefully attended to, were, it must be confessed, after a hasty supper, soon fast asleep. The buxom maiden of former years had now become the landlady, nor did Pedro forget to whisper Frè Diogo’s name in her ear, for which he got a good box on his own. Again they were on the road, and “Onward, onward!” was Luis’s cry. Coimbra was reached safely, and once more they were fortunate in finding even better steeds than before. Pedro was already almost knocked up with the fatigue, but the lover felt it not, as he galloped onward. He thought but of one thing the whole time, the quickest way to reach the end of his journey.

Alas! the end was not to be so prosperous. Within five leagues of Oporto both the horses began to stumble through fatigue, and at last that of Luis came to the ground. He was himself, fortunately, uninjured, but for some minutes the horse refused to move, and at last they found it utterly impossible to proceed further. A small inn was at hand, where they took shelter, and from whence, the next morning, they again set out.

The sun was already high in the heavens when they came in sight of Oporto, rising on its cluster of hills directly opposite to them. The sight of a goal, where his hopes were to be blest or blasted for ever, inspired Luis with renewed ardour. He dashed down the steep hill, through the town of Villa Nova, and reached a pontoon bridge which connects it with Oporto. He crossed without an accident, and the first person he encountered on the opposite side was Captain Pinto.

“Not a moment is to be lost, Luis,” he exclaimed, pointing to his boat, a fast pulling, six-oared gig. “Up that way, and then up a flight of steep steps, you will reach the church—the ceremony has begun, but cannot have concluded.”