"Circumstances prevent my declaring myself, lady, at present," returned the stranger; "but confide in my honour, and I will escort you from this wretched hovel to an abode, which, though unworthy to receive you, is yet equal to any the city, in its present ruined state, can afford." "Pardon me, senhor, that I hesitate," said Clara; "for I dare not confide in one unknown; but if you will carry the information to my father that I am here, I shall be deeply grateful." The stranger listened to this answer with signs of impatience. "I would do what you wish, fair lady, but I grieve to say your father, if, as I believe, you are the daughter of Goncalo Christovao, fell a victim to the destroying earthquake." "Oh! say you do not speak the truth; you surely must have been mistaken," she exclaimed; "my father cannot be among the dead!" "It is but too true, lady," was the answer; "and I fear you have few or no friends who have escaped it." On hearing this sad assertion, Clara bent down her head and sobbed violently, while the stranger stood by, beholding her in silence for some minutes, when she suddenly looked up. "I pray Heaven you may have been deceived in the account you give," she said; "but if not, as you are a man, and, as I believe, from your air, of gentle birth, I entreat you to discover one who has already risked his life to save mine, and in whom I may place entire confidence--Don Luis d'Almeida. Go, senhor, inform him that I am here, and he will strive to show his gratitude to you." Clara, in the innocence of her heart, referred naturally to the person on whom all her thoughts and feelings centred; but her words seemed to give anything but satisfaction to her hearer. He stamped vehemently on the ground, as he answered, between his closed teeth,--"Know you not, lady, that you speak of one who is the murderer of your brother? and he, surely, is not a fit guardian for you." She was no longer deceived in the speaker's voice. She rose calmly from her seat:--"Count San Vincente," she said, "the disguise you wear cannot conceal you from me; nor do I believe your words; for I feel firm in the conviction that Don Luis could not have slain my brother. I knew not even that he was reported to have been killed; nor do I believe, from your assertion, that such is the case. Now, leave me, senhor; for I know full well you dare not venture to use violence towards a noble maiden. Find means to inform my friends of my situation, and I will not breathe my suspicions; if not, dread the consequences of this outrage."