the air of a man engaged in an effort beyond his powers, and sorely perplexed about the means to effect it. This expression, so full of sincerity, struck me forcibly. It operated as a balance against all my former prepossessions. But still the more confidence I felt in him, the more I was impressed by his fears. I repeated after him, “How is it possible for me to escape ultimately? I may, by your assistance, traverse those intricate passages, whose cold dews I feel already distilling on me. I may emerge into light, ascend and descend the wall, but, after that, how am I to escape?--how am I even to live? All Spain is but one great monastery,--I must be a prisoner every step that I take.”--“Your brother must look to that,” said he abruptly; “I have done what I have undertaken.” I then pressed him with several questions relating to the details of my escape. His answer was monotonous, unsatisfactory, and evasive, to a degree that again filled me first with suspicion, and then with terror. I asked, “But how have you obtained possession of the keys?”--“It is not your business to inquire.” It was singular that he returned the same answer to every question I put to him, relative to his becoming possessed of the means to facilitate my escape, so that I was compelled to desist unsatisfied, and revert to what he had told me.--“But, then, that terrible passage near the vaults,--the chance, the fear that we may never emerge to light! Think of wandering amid sepulchral ruins, of stumbling over the bones of the dead, of encountering what I cannot describe,--the horror of being among those who are neither the living or the dead;--those dark and shadowless things that sport themselves with the reliques of the dead, and feast and love amid corruption,--ghastly, mocking, and terrific. _Must_ we pass near the vaults?”--“What matter? perhaps I have more reason to dread them than you. Do _you_ expect the spirit of your father to start from the earth to blast you?” At these words, which he uttered in a tone intended to inspire me with confidence, I shuddered with horror. They were uttered by a parricide, boasting of his crime in a church at midnight, amid saints, whose images were silent, but seemed to tremble. For relief I reverted to the unscaleable wall, and the difficulty of managing the ladder of ropes without detection. The same answer was on his lips,--“Leave that to me,--all that is settled.” While he answered thus, he always turned his face away, and broke his words into monosyllables. At last I felt that the case was desperate,--that I must trust every thing to him. _To him!_ Oh, my God! what I felt when I said this to myself! The conviction thrilled on my soul,--I am in his power. And yet, even under the impression, I could not help recurring to the impracticable difficulties that appeared to obstruct my escape. He then lost patience,--reproached me with timidity and ingratitude; and, while