"It matters not--my business is not with you, but with the Senhor Conde d"Almeida, if he will favour me with his company," said the stranger.
Luis started as he spoke, for he recognised the officer of police who had a.s.sisted him in his search for Clara; and he fully believed that he had now come to conduct him to some other prison.
"I shall be ready to follow you when I have taken farewell of my friends," he answered.
Antonio approached him, and whispered in his ear, "Fear not, I come to set you at liberty."
Delightful words to a prisoner! A thrill of joy shot through the Count"s heart--he might yet be able to rescue Clara! "Stay," he answered; "a few minutes are precious. Senhor Goncalo, I have the means of conveying the order to the Lady Abbess to set your fair daughter at freedom."
Writing materials were soon procured by the kind-hearted gaoler, and the important doc.u.ment being written, and signed by the fidalgo, he committed it to the care of Luis, saying, as he did so, "Should better times come round, and should you regain your liberty, and your fortune, to no one would I more gladly consign my child"s happiness."
"My liberty I trust to regain, but my fortune, alas! is irretrievably gone," answered the Count, despondingly.
Taking leave of Clara"s father and brother, the latter of whom appeared revived by the sight of his parent, Luis signified to Antonio that he was in readiness to accompany him. Fre Diogo followed them from the cell, the door of which the gaoler locked behind them, and then bringing the Count"s cloak, and throwing it over his head, carefully led them along the low, dark pa.s.sages which Luis had traversed on his entrance, and now sincerely hoped never to see again.
"Farewell, my dear Count," whispered the Friar, as they were about to enter into a more public part of the prison; "I may as well not be seen with you, for I must take care of my character, you know. May Heaven bless you!" and he gave Luis a hug which almost took the breath out of his body; then, putting his mouth to Antonio"s ear, he whispered, "Have more regard to a holy friar"s cowl and gown, than to allude to days when I was sowing my wild oats: I am a reformed character, now. Adeos!" and, with a low laugh, he glided away.
At a signal from Antonio, the guards at each post allowed him and his charge to pa.s.s without question; and soon, to Luis"s delight, he once more found himself breathing the free air. A carriage was in waiting, which quickly conveyed them to the other side of Lisbon, where, stopping at the door of a house, Antonio begged Luis to descend. "Adeos, senhor, we may not perhaps, meet again," he said; ""tis my last day of service, and an agreeable duty I have performed. You will find friends awaiting your arrival."
Luis sprung eagerly up stairs, and, entering a room, found himself in the warm-hearted embrace of his kind friend, Captain Pinto. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as soon as he was released, "I am rejoiced to see Senhor Mendez also."
"No longer Senhor Mendez, but your lost uncle, Luis d"Almeida,"
exclaimed the Captain.
Luis threw himself at the feet of his uncle, who, raising him, pressed him affectionately to his heart. "This is, indeed, a happy moment to me, my nephew, after all my sufferings, to find one of my family who learned to love me as an outcast and a beggar!" he exclaimed.
The young Count was soon informed of the means taken to procure his liberation, and of the banishment to which he was doomed; his uncle, however, a.s.suring him, that it should not be pa.s.sed in poverty.
"Alas!" he answered, after expressing his grat.i.tude, "liberty and fortune are of no value, except I can share them with one to whom my heart has long been engaged;" and he hurriedly described his love for Donna Clara, the position in which she was placed, and her father"s authority delegated to him to rescue her.
His uncle and the Captain looked at each other disappointed. "It cannot be helped, Luis," said the latter; "you must be on board my ship to-morrow morning, when I sail for England; and all I can promise is, to land you for an hour or so at Oporto, if the sea is smooth; when you can deliver her father"s despatches to the young lady, and pay a farewell visit."
"That plan will never do," exclaimed Luis: "contrary winds might delay us, or a rough sea might prevent my landing, and Clara would be lost to me for ever. I will trust only in my own exertions; and I purpose this very hour to start on my journey, for I cannot rest till I know that she is free."
"I see how it is," said the Captain; "there is but one way for it. What hour is it? Not ten: then the Minister will yet see me. He is a stern ruler when political necessity demands it, but he has yet a kind heart.
Let me see, I know all the story." Without waiting to hear what anybody might say, the Captain hurried away.
Scarcely had he gone, when Pedro rushed into the room, embracing his master"s knees, in his joy at seeing him alive, and at liberty; but Luis was obliged to hurry him away, to bring a change of raiment from his lodgings, and to procure horses, and make other preparations for his journey.
We need not give the interesting conversation which ensued between the uncle and nephew; one important part of it was, that the former informed the latter that he would find five hundred pounds at his immediate disposal on his arrival in England; and that he had already settled the bulk of a far larger fortune than his family had ever possessed upon him, nor did he doubt, if he was in time to prevent Donna Clara from taking the veil, that her father would longer hesitate to bestow her upon him.
The Captain now returned in high spirits. "I told him the whole story, how the fidalgo had shut up his daughter in a convent, and how you wished to release her: so, as he hates the system of convents, and, I verily believe, would like to thwart what he imagines the fidalgo"s wishes, he has given you a pa.s.sport, and an order for horses wherever you may require them, besides an order to the Lady Abbess to deliver Donna Clara de Christovao into the charge of Don Luis d"Almeida: so now, the sooner you are off, after taking a little rest, the better. I sail to-morrow by day-break; and shall land at Oporto, while my ship cruises outside. I will wait for you, and take you on board after you have seen the lady, and restored her to her home."
This plan being arranged, and Pedro having returned, and reported that he had selected a couple of strong horses for the journey, the Captain repaired on board his ship; and Luis endeavoured to s.n.a.t.c.h an hour"s sleep before the horses were in readiness. Long before daylight he was in the saddle, after taking an affectionate farewell of his newly-found uncle. He had a journey of full one hundred and fifty miles before him, over rough roads, with dangers of all sorts; but he thought not of them, his only consideration being how he could most quickly perform the distance. The time of year was in his favour, but three days was the very least he could hope to do it in, and all depended on finding fresh horses on the road.
"Pedro!" he exclaimed; "we ride for life and death! You will not desert me? We must place Leiria to the south of us before we rest."
"Fear me not, my dear master, I will follow wherever you lead," answered Pedro, with enthusiasm; and away the two hors.e.m.e.n galloped; and before the sun rose, Lisbon was many leagues behind them. So well did the horses perform their work, that it was still daylight when they reached the gates of Leiria. The Count, with the magic order from the Minister, instantly went in search of fresh steeds. Of course, no one had them, till he fortunately encountered an old acquaintance, who indicated to him where they were to be found; and, with delight, he soon discovered two, fresh and strong for the road. The surprise of the inhabitants was great indeed to see the travellers again in their saddles, and galloping out of the town. Night overtook them just as they reached the little inn, where, two years before, their adventure with the banditti had occurred; but they thought not of danger, as they threw themselves from their saddles, and, seeing their horses carefully attended to, were, it must be confessed, after a hasty supper, soon fast asleep. The buxom maiden of former years had now become the landlady, nor did Pedro forget to whisper Fre Diogo"s name in her ear, for which he got a good box on his own. Again they were on the road, and "Onward, onward!" was Luis"s cry. Coimbra was reached safely, and once more they were fortunate in finding even better steeds than before. Pedro was already almost knocked up with the fatigue, but the lover felt it not, as he galloped onward. He thought but of one thing the whole time, the quickest way to reach the end of his journey.
Alas! the end was not to be so prosperous. Within five leagues of Oporto both the horses began to stumble through fatigue, and at last that of Luis came to the ground. He was himself, fortunately, uninjured, but for some minutes the horse refused to move, and at last they found it utterly impossible to proceed further. A small inn was at hand, where they took shelter, and from whence, the next morning, they again set out.
The sun was already high in the heavens when they came in sight of Oporto, rising on its cl.u.s.ter of hills directly opposite to them. The sight of a goal, where his hopes were to be blest or blasted for ever, inspired Luis with renewed ardour. He dashed down the steep hill, through the town of Villa Nova, and reached a pontoon bridge which connects it with Oporto. He crossed without an accident, and the first person he encountered on the opposite side was Captain Pinto.
"Not a moment is to be lost, Luis," he exclaimed, pointing to his boat, a fast pulling, six-oared gig. "Up that way, and then up a flight of steep steps, you will reach the church--the ceremony has begun, but cannot have concluded."
Luis waited not to answer him, but, throwing his horse"s bridle to a bystander, as did Pedro, he sprung up the steps near him. He flew like lightning: breathless he rushed into the church. He gazed wildly around--Clara was at the altar. Had she p.r.o.nounced the fatal oath? He stopped not to inquire; but, thrusting the spectators aside, he uttered the cry which caused her to faint. He sprung forward, he lifted her in his arms, and exhibiting to the astonished eyes of the a.s.sembled monks and nuns the orders both of her father and the Minister, he bore her to the open air.
"She is mine!" he exclaimed, "and I confide her to no one else."
"They are base forgeries," he heard the voice of Fre Alfonzo exclaim, as he stood in advance of the rest. "Seize the sacrilegious wretch! The holy Inquisition must be his judge."
Luis waited not to hear more; but, pressing the yet unconscious girl to his heart, he leaped down the steep steps, while Pedro closely followed, keeping any one from attempting to seize him. Captain Pinto caught a glimpse of him as he neared the place of embarkation, and, shouting to his crew to be prepared, he hastened to a.s.sist him in lifting the lady into the boat. Pedro jumped in after them, and the boat had just gained the centre of the stream as a group of monks and priests, with Fre Alfonzo, had collected on the quay, uttering their anathemas against the daring marauder, who had robbed the Church of their prey. The young Count, his heart throbbing with joy and fear, heard them not, as he bent over the yet senseless form of the lovely Clara. There was but one course now to pursue. He well knew the dreadful deeds which had been done by the ministers of religion and he could never venture to entrust the rescued girl within the powers of the infuriated monks. He must bear her on board the frigate.
"The only safe plan," said the Captain. "You have the Minister"s authority, her"s you will soon get, and her father can give his when you return; if not, you must do without it. Give way, my men!"
The boat shot rapidly down the stream, and ere long was breasting the rolling billows of the Atlantic. The frigate stood towards her, the lady was carefully lifted on deck, the boat was hoisted in, and when Clara came to herself she found herself in the cabin, her head supported by the young Count, who was kneeling by her side. She p.r.o.nounced his name. "Where am I?" she exclaimed, gazing wildly around.
"In safety, and borne onward, I trust, to happiness," answered her lover; and a very few sentences sufficed to explain all that had occurred.
"Thank Heaven," she whispered, "I am not shrouded, as I fancied, in that dreadful black veil."
Favourable breezes carried them to the free and happy sh.o.r.es of England, where, a few days after their landing, they were married, with due pomp, at the Portuguese Emba.s.sy, a measure Goncalo Christovao highly approved of, when he discovered that the Senhor d"Almeida had settled a handsome fortune on his nephew.
For many years they resided in England, where their generous relative joined them; for his principles but ill agreed with the bigotry and ignorant superst.i.tion which he encountered on every side. Clara had the happiness of hearing of her brother"s recovery and escape from prison; but the Conde San Vincente, by high bribes, avoided punishment.
The only person of whose fate we are not quite certain was Fre Diogo, though we have our fears that he figured in an Auto-da-fe in 1765; his crimes being, speaking ill of the holy office, not paying due reverence to the holy sacrament, and entertaining scandalous and heretical opinions.
The fate of the Prime Minister is well known. On the death of Joseph, he was deprived, by Donna Maria the First, of his offices, and banished to his native town, where, at an advanced age, he died, his sons inheriting his t.i.tles and property, of which his enemies could not deprive him.
FINISH.