It was now past nine o'clock; and, with mingled feelings of disappointment, grief, and anger, he was just resigning all hopes, when the sentry at the door challenged. The next moment a person dressed in a long, loose cloak stood before him, whom he immediately recognized as his loved Isabella.
"I have brought you some supper and some wine," said the young lady, addressing him, as usual upon similar occasions, in Spanish; "I ought to have come before, but it was impossible."
So saying, she set her basket upon the stone bench, and, in so doing, whispered Morton:
"Every thing is ready; be patient, and be guided by me."
"But how are you about to manage these fellows? it will take all night to get them drunk, if that is your plan; for your soldiers, it cannot be denied, are extremely temperate, and will seldom do me the honor to empty more than a single bottle among the whole five."
"Hush, hush; I have a surer way than mere wine."
As she spoke she drew from her bosom a phial, containing a dark liquid. Morton started back in horror--(he thought he saw, in the composed and lovely countenance of the beautiful being before him, the cold-blooded, deliberate, practised assassin--)
"Good God! Isabella, is it possible? never, never will I owe my life and liberty to such abominable, such cowardly means!"
"Dismiss your suspicions," said Isabella, turning pale and trembling; "they are unworthy of you, and wholly unmerited by me. Not to save _your_ life, which I value as I do my own, would I commit mur--the crime that you suspect. This phial contains a simple opiate, not half so dangerous or disagreeable as the laudanum and camphor of your ship's medicine chest. The sleep produced by it is speedy and deep, and lasts four or five hours."
Observing that Morton still looked distrustingly, she continued, with streaming eyes--
"Dear Charles, if you doubt me still, I will swallow the whole; its operation will not take place before I reach home, and will only cause long, deep sleep; but, in that case, your hopes of escape are cut off _forever_. To-morrow, or the next day, at farthest, you are to be sent to the capital"--her tears choked her utterance.
"Dearest Isabella," said Morton, taking her hands in both his, and pressing them to his bosom, "forgive my cruel suspicions, but I own you startled me exceedingly."