not been substantiated, when she caught the eye of the accusant fixed upon her with a look of demoniac malignity which chased the blood from her cheek, and made her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth. Her fortitude was nearly deserting her, and her love of justice giving way to her fear of Garcia’s cruel revenge, when a stir was heard at the entrance of the court, and Caya, with disordered dress, dishevelled hair, and eyes of fire, rushed up to the foot of the tribunal, and throwing herself on her knees on the marble step, clasped the feet of Elvira, and looked up into the queen’s face without speaking a word. “What does this Moorish devil in our hall of justice?” said Garcia, in a stern voice: “remove her.” No one stirred, for all were intently watching the scene. Caya still knelt without speaking, looking up to the queen’s face; but now the large tears were gathering in her eyes, under their jet-black lashes, and now they rolled down upon her dark cheek, which was no longer lustrous with the hue which Sancho in his youthful years had loved to look upon. Elvira gently stooped her head towards the suppliant, and was about to speak to her, when Garcia, with increased vehemence in his tone, again demanded her removal, and Elvira, shudderingly, drew back. “Oh, listen not to him!” at length gasped Caya; “heed not his cruel voice. Thou wilt not give my boy to his bloody vengeance; thou wilt not put his precious limbs upon the wheel; thou wilt not tear his manly sinews with red-hot pincers! Oh, queen, give me back my Ramiro!” “Nay, Caya, what will become of me?--there is misery before me whichever way I turn!” said Elvira, as she saw Garcia approaching. “Stand back!” shouted Caya, springing to her feet, and speaking to Garcia; then turning to Elvira, “I charge thee let him not touch me--if thou valuest the life of thy son, admonish him to beware of hurting a hair of the Moorish woman’s head, or of that of her child: and not of _my_ child alone--of the child of Sancho of Navarre. And thee, too, Elvira. I charge to beware how thou givest over to judgment the offspring of thy lord! Hast thou no pity, Elvira? Look not to Garcia--look to _me_. Dear Elvira (and here Caya ventured to take the queen’s hand), pity thy poor Caya, thy servant, and Sancho’s servant, who never willingly offended thee. Thou wilt--I see thou wilt. I am thy friend once more--thy _sister_!” she whispered, as her tears flowed upon the neck of the subdued Elvira, and she clasped her to her bosom. The queen, then, confirmed in her decision by the assenting looks and murmurs of the lord deputy and the majority of the council, declared Ramiro guiltless of the crime imputed to him, and the assembly broke up. “Caya,” said Elvira, as they retired together, “I have done much for thee this day. I have leaned towards thy child against my own. I have made an enemy of the fruit of my own womb for the sake of a rival in my husband’s love.”