Holidays at the Grange; or, A Week's Delight: Games and Stories for Parlor and FiresideHiggins, Emily Mayer
General
Holidays at the Grange; or, A Week's Delight: Games and Stories for Parlor and Fireside
Higgins, Emily Mayer
Amusements -- Juvenile literature; Children's stories; Indoor games -- Juvenile literature
betrothed; and they agreed that it was better, whatever the consequences
might be, to inform her father of their engagement, and to endeavor to
mollify his heart. As Bernardo had returned from the wars with such
distinction, he had some slight hope that the crime of loving Don
Pedro's daughter might possibly be forgiven.
They were still engaged in these discussions, when the door opened, and
Don Pedro appeared; his face was wild with passion, black with rage. He
roughly snatched Dona Inez from the arms of her lover, to whom she clung
with all the energy of despair, as the shipwrecked mariner holds fast to
the mast or beam which is his only hope of safety, or even to the anchor
which will surely sink him to the lowest depths. Turning to his
followers, who were trained to obey his every command without a
question, he ordered them to convey Don Bernardo to the deepest dungeon
of the castle, and to chain him to the wall; and then to bring the key
to him. Dona Inez, in a phrensy of terror, knelt at his feet, and begged
that all his anger might be visited upon her; but spurning her from him,
he told her that she should feel enough of it yet, and need pray for no
more--he had a punishment still in store for her, and in due time she
should realize what it was to defy his power. He left her in a swoon,
and did not see her again until after ten days, when he entered her
apartment, and grimly smiling, commanded her to accompany him, as he
wished to conduct her to her lover; adding, with a peculiar look, that
if it were her wish, as he was all devotion to her slightest whim, he
would never henceforth separate them. Scarcely knowing what to think,
but dreading the worst from the ironical tone of mock gallantry with
which he spoke, she followed him with faltering steps, a vague terror
dimming her eyes and chilling her heart. He led her through many winding
passages, opening heavy iron gates, until they at length reached the
deep dungeons which are found beneath this castle. There, in a damp
cell, heavily chained to the wall, she beheld, by the light of the torch
Don Pedro carried, her own Bernardo! But, oh, how changed! how
emaciated! He seemed to be asleep. Her father told her to awake him; she
took his hand, but started back--that icy touch had told her all--he was
dead, starved to death by her own father!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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