_Cora._ Do not think so!—we have neither of us done wrong!—we loved each other—we could not avoid loving; was it in the power of either to repress our mutual feelings? Can either of us then be criminal?—Chance, or perhaps our God himself, first brought us together—all is of his appointment, and I am resigned to my fate. Even man is kind to us, since he facilitates our union. As a Virgin of the Sun I could not have become your wife, but in death we shall be united. Resume your fortitude then, oh Alonzo!—How often have I sprung with you over the rugged stones at the breach?—Death is no more than a spring over a few rugged stones; and these once passed, we shall find love and freedom waiting to receive us on the other side. _Alonzo._ Amiable creature!—thy guiltless soul can look with composure both towards the past and future.—But for me!—— _Cora._ How, if I can prove that you may more justly look with composure towards futurity, than Cora?—Your mother is far hence, and should she hear of you no more, will believe that your days were ended by shipwreck, sickness, or some common disaster, and this idea will console her for your loss; while her maternal fancy will see in her son nothing but what was fair and good, will frequently recur with transport to the noble actions he has already performed, and form to itself a thousand charming images of what he would have achieved had his life been longer spared. But I!—I have a father, at present, indeed, in a remote province; but who will soon learn for what offence, and in what manner, his daughter died. It is that thought alone which makes death dreadful to me!—He is so good, so venerable, and loves me so tenderly!—Were he to witness this scene, it would break his heart. _Alonzo._ (_Aside_) Oh Heaven! then she knows not—— _Cora._ Within the last hour I fell upon my knees and prayed most fervently, that some calm and easy death might snatch my father from the world, before his daughter’s fate could reach his ears. Suddenly a sweet serenity was diffused over my soul, as if the mild rays of a new sun had fallen upon me; and I hoped this was an assurance that my prayer was heard. My remaining wish is, that what I must suffer may be over quickly, lest solemn and protracted preparations should excite my rebel senses to mutiny, and shake my fortitude. _Alonzo._ Oh it is the thought of what you have already endured, and must still endure, which alone oppresses my soul. _Cora._ Let not my sufferings oppress you; believe me, I am resigned. SCENE III.—_Enter TELASCO, with ZORAI in chains._ _Cora._ (_Uttering a loud and piercing shriek_) Oh, I am heard!—Behold my father’s spirit!—Yet his features are full of indignation!—his countenance is terrible!—Alonzo, awake me from this dream! _Alonzo._ Would to God it were, indeed, only your father’s shade!—but, alas! it is he himself.—Oh what an hour of horror! _Cora._ (_Casting a look of awe towards Telasco_) My father!