“Then, will I not confess the charge,” answered Hildebrand. “Are not my father and my poor self thy friends, then?” asked Evaline. “There be few I tender so lovingly,” returned Hildebrand. “But what meanest thou?” “We cannot help thee, thou thinkest?” said Evaline. “In what matter, fair mistress?” “In the matter that moved thee to that sorrowful sigh,” returned Evaline, in a low but earnest tone, and, at the same time, looking anxiously in his face. Hildebrand changed colour. “No! no!” he said:--“that is past help. But did I sigh? Trust me, ’twas unknowingly.” “In good sooth, it makes me sad that we can lend thee no help,” observed Evaline. “I pitched my every thought on a shadow,” said Hildebrand, in a low voice. “Henceforth, the world, with its fair train of accidents, will be no more than a desert in my regard, and life but a dream. I am lost in it!” “Alas!” sighed Evaline, deeply moved. “Thou art too pitiful,” pursued Hildebrand. “Yet are those sweet tears, which my dejection hath brought to thine eyes, most soothing balsam to me, and more inspiring than new hope. By my troth, they make my heart swell again!” “That do I not credit,” faltered Evaline. “Wilt thou credit that thou art my heart’s hope and keeper?” asked Hildebrand, taking up her hand, and pressing it in his. “Nay, turn not away, sweet mistress! Remind thee, thou holdest in thy hands a human life--thy lips are to pass judgment on a soul! But wherefore do I discourse thus? It does thee wrong, sweet Evaline! I will”---- “Oh, hold! hold!” said Evaline, in broken accents. “Dost thou--canst thou love me, then?” cried Hildebrand. “Oh, yes! yes!” faltered Evaline, hiding her burning face on his shoulder. Hildebrand, trembling with passion, turned his arm round her waist, and pressed her to his bosom. All his fears had now vanished, and, in the fervid kiss that he imprinted on her cheek, he had a foretaste of the felicity that he was yet to look forward to. How brief are our moments of unmingled happiness! As Hildebrand, with the ardour and eagerness of a welcomed lover, pressed his lips to the glowing cheek of his mistress, he thought he heard some one open the chamber-door; and, turning quickly round, his eye met that of Don Rafaele. CHAPTER XIII. There was something in the look of Don Rafaele that made Hildebrand’s very heart quake again. Yet it was but momentary; for no sooner did the Spaniard, in the manner already set forth, meet his glance, than he withdrew his observation, and turned abruptly away. Stepping back through the doorway, he drew the door, which he still held in his hand, close after him, and left the lovers to themselves.