In the meanwhile the lady, freed from the presence of the burning Don Alvaro, had become more tranquil; and it was with grief she reflected that she had engaged to permit the addresses of a lover, whom, while she truly esteemed his merit, her heart told her she could never love.
[Illustration: Don Fabricio at the feet of Donna Theodora]
"Signor Don Fabricio," she said to him, timidly, "I trust you will not abuse the preference I have just avowed for you; you owe it only to the necessity in which I found myself placed of declaring between yourself and Don Alvaro. I can say with truth that I have ever thought more highly of you than of him;--there are noble qualities that you possess of which Alvaro cannot boast; I have always looked on you with justice as the most perfect cavalier Valencia contains; I have even no hesitation in saying that the attentions of such a man would be flattering to the vanity of any woman; but, how honourable soever they might be to me, I feel bound to tell you that my heart is still untouched, and that it is with sorrow I behold in you an affection for myself so great as your every action displays. I will not, however, take from you all hope of winning my affections; my present indifference may arise from the effects of that grief which still fills my bosom for the loss of my late husband, Don Andrea de Cifuentes, who died about a year ago. Although we were not long united, and although he was advanced in years when my parents, dazzled by his riches, compelled me to espouse him, I was yet much afflicted by his loss, and the wound is still green which his death inflicted.
"Ah! was he not worthy of my regret?" she added. "He was indeed unlike those aged and jealous tyrants, who, unable to persuade themselves that a youthful wife can be virtuous enough to excuse their weakness, watch all her motions with suspicion, or place over her some hideous duenna as a spy. Alas! he had in my honour a confidence of which a young and much-loved husband would be hardly capable. His kindness was unbounded, and his only study, to anticipate my every wish. You may suppose, then, Mendoza, that such a man as Don Andrea de Cifuentes is not easily forgotten. No! he is ever present in my thoughts; and the fond recollection of his amiability and love for me may excuse my indifference for objects which might otherwise attract me."