“Hush!” whispered Inez, perceiving that he was about to speak: “remember, thy surly keeper, though without the door, may be within ear-shot. Moreover, what I have to say must be told with despatch.” “Every word thou sayest,” answered Hildebrand, “is life and blood to me. Speak on!” But though he was so anxious to hear what she had to say, Hildebrand’s attention was not so wholly engrossed by this object, above every other, that he could look on Inez herself without emotion. Her appearance was not calculated to encourage or confirm his reviving fortitude. On throwing back her cowl, her long black hair, which was wont to be arranged with such exquisite taste, appeared loose and dishevelled, and had evidently been pushed behind her small ears with a rude and careless haste. Her eyes were red with recent weeping, and, withal, by their quick and furtive glances, betrayed an anxiety and restlessness, if not terror, that it was distressing to behold. Her other features, as far as the light rendered them apparent, looked equally anxious, and her face was pale as death. A single glance was sufficient to reveal these particulars to Hildebrand; and by the time Inez was ready to answer him, he was able, with a slight effort, to give her statement his undivided attention. “I have ventured hither,” she said, “not without imminent hazard, lest thou shouldst think I had deserted thee, and so grow desperate. There is a young cavalier in this city, right trusty in his disposition, whom I know well--indeed, he is my cousin; and, through him, I think I may do thee some service.” “What may he be?” inquired Hildebrand, eagerly catching at the slightest prospect of succour. “Little of himself,” answered Inez; “for he is a mere youth. Nevertheless, with thy aid, and under thy counsel, he may do thee great service. I will make it a suit to the corregidor (who is a bachelor, and will be well content to do me grace) to grant him a pass to visit thee. When he is here, thou mayst confer with him, and see how he can help thee!” A conference with such a person did not promise to be attended with any material and decided benefit; but, in fortune’s extremity, we are inclined to look on every change, whatever may be its aspect, with an eye of favour, and to tender countenance and welcome to the most flimsy prospect. Incidents that, like the images that the sun calls up on a reflective lake, become mere shadows on inspection, originally assume the shape and attitude of substantial advantages; and when the turbulent flood of life is rushing mercilessly over us, a very thread of hope, which the eye can hardly distinguish, appears to be a cable, and we seek to haul ourselves from the depths by floating straws. Hildebrand caught at the proposition of Inez as if it had opened a channel for escape. “How can I ever requite thee, dearest lady?” he said. “I prithee, see the cavalier use despatch in coming.” “Have no fear for that,” answered Inez, with unabated agitation.