The two friends--for so they had become--now descended the tower, and walked on the green grass. It was a delightful evening--the sun was setting among clouds of every gorgeous hue--his orb was then hidden behind a dark mass, whose edges were crimsoned by his rays; above the cloud the sky was of the darkest black-blue, and beyond this his beams shot out in iridescent lines, like the rays that emblazon the heraldic scroll--higher still mackerel clouds floated in the blue ether, dyed gold, and crimson, and between their vistas the unfathomable depths of air were clear and transparent, so that the eye could pierce their far deeps, and discern how near the loftiest clouds in comparison floated above earth! In the east the full moon was rising, and the cold blue light of the latter, compared with the warm colouring of the sunset, was striking. The friends sat down on the mossy stone, and each for a time seemed too much occupied with her own thoughts to speak. Ellen was thinking on the picnic, and how not long ago on a night like this she had danced on that grass with him she loved. Oh! had any one told her then that one short month after she would again sit on that stone, a prisoner, and parted from him, she would not have believed it. Juana was thinking how on that stone she had sat, when she personated the Italian, how he she also loved, but who loved not her, had given her the ring she now treasured in her bosom. "Antonia," said Ellen, "a month ago I sat here so happy--alas! I fear I shall never be so again." "Miss Ravensworth, a month ago I sat on this stone; I was then miserable, I may yet be happy." "Ah! our circumstances are then altered, but when did you sit here before?" "Often--but this day last month as far as I remember--I sat here very unhappy!" "Impossible! a month ago there was a gay picnic here, how could you have been here? you were not there." "Easily; you remember the Italian boy, who played and sung--that boy was I--is it not now explained?" "Oh! merciful Heavens--that boy you--yes, I know the voice now. Oh! there is a deep, deep plot! Antonia, if you love me, tell me all. How strange! I seem to see things differently. Oh! who are you, mysterious maiden?" "I cannot, remember your promise not to ask me, but the explanation will not now be distant--to-night it will come. Have you the dagger still?" "Oh! Antonia, you alarm me; it is true, I was beginning to grow forgetful; then, the trial is at hand; you shall see I can be firm to death!" "Poor girl, I pity you from my heart!" "Then, why not let deeds show your pity--let me fly." "I dare not, lady! I dare not. I was sworn by the blessed Virgin--you would not I should break my oath!" "Then, let it come; you will see how Ellen can die, if that death only saves her from dishonour!" "Let me see your blade; is it sharp?"