Once only, after your introduction to the cottage, did I think of confiding to you my love and rivalship; you remember one night when we met by the castle cave, and when your kindness touched and softened me despite of myself. The day after that night I sought you, with the intention of communicating to you all; and while I was yet struggling with my embarrassment and the suffocating tide of my emotions, you premeditated me by giving me _your_ confidence. Engrossed by your own feelings, you were not observant of mine; and as you dwelt and dilated upon your love for Isora, all emotions, save those of agony and of fury, vanished from my breast. I did not answer you then at any length, for I was too agitated to trust to prolix speech; but by the next day I had recovered myself, and I resolved, as far as I was able, to play the hypocrite, “he cannot love her as I do!” I said; “perhaps I may, without disclosure of my rivalship and without sin in the attempt, detach him from her by reason.” Fraught with this idea, I collected myself, sought you, remonstrated with you, represented the worldly folly of your love, and uttered all that prudence preaches--in vain, when it preaches against passion! Let me be brief. I saw that I made no impression on you; I stifled my wrath; I continued to visit and watch Isora. I timed my opportunities well: my constant knowledge of your motions allowed me to do that; besides, I represented to the Spaniard the necessity, through political motives, of concealing myself from you; hence, we never encountered each other. One evening, Alvarez had gone out to meet one of his countrymen and confederates. I found Isora alone, in the most sequestered part of the garden; her loveliness, and her exceeding gentleness of manner, melted me. For the first time audibly my heart spoke out, and I told her of my idolatry. Idolatry! ay, _that_ is the only word, since it signifies both worship and guilt! She heard me timidly, gently, coldly. She spoke; and I found confirmed from her own lips what my reason had before told me,--that there was no hope for me. The iron that entered also roused my heart. “Enough!” I cried fiercely, “you love this Morton Devereux, and for him I am scorned.” Isora blushed and trembled, and all my senses fled from me. I scarcely know in what words my rage and my despair clothed themselves: but I know that I divulged myself to her; I know that I told her I was the brother, the rival, the enemy of the man she loved,--I know that I uttered the fiercest and the wildest menaces and execrations,--I know that my vehemence so overpowered and terrified her that her mind was scarcely less clouded--less lost, rather--than my own. At that moment the sound of your horse’s hoofs was heard. Isora’s eyes brightened and her mien grew firm. “He comes,” she said, “and he will protect me!” “Hark!” I said, sinking my voice, and, as my drawn sword flashed in one hand, the other grasped her arm with a savage