She paused, for the thought seemed too dreadful for endurance. The moon shone brightly in the heavens, and the stars sparkled like diamonds on the clear blue sky; whilst Elvira, raising her eyes to heaven, and clasping her hands together, seemed lost in silent prayer. Her fair face, shaded by her long black veil, looked even more lovely than usual, from the soft light thrown upon it; and, as she stood thus apparently quite absorbed in inward devotion, she seemed almost a celestial being descended for the moment upon earth, and about to remount to her native skies.
A figure, wrapped in a long dark cloak, now appeared at the extremity of the terrace, and advanced slowly towards the Queen. Two other figures also emerged from the shade, and followed, though at a considerable distance. Elvira was not aware of their approach till the first figure stood behind her, and seizing her arms, threw a cloak over her head to stifle her cries; and then, with the help of the others, was hurrying her off. At this moment, Roderick sprang actively upon the terrace, and with one blow from his vigorous arm, felled the first assailant to the ground. Then, drawing his sword, the enraged Monarch would have instantly dispatched him, had not the supposed assassin uttered a piercing scream, and clinging round his knees, implored mercy. The moon shone full upon the boy’s face, and disclosed to Roderick’s astonished eyes the features of the dumb page. “Alexis!” cried he.
The boy sprang from the ground.
“Roderick!” screamed he; “then I am ruined!”
“Stay:” returned the King, grasping his arm, and preventing his escape; “who, and what are you? Speak, or dread my vengeance.”
The boy’s heart beat almost to suffocation; every nerve throbbed with the most violent emotion, and drawing a dagger from his belt, he attempted to plunge it into the heart of Roderick. “Ah!” cried the King, starting aside in time to prevent the blow; whilst ere he could prevent it, the page had buried the weapon in his own bosom.
“Good God!” exclaimed Roderick, “what can this mean?”
The whole of this scene had passed with such rapidity, that Elvira had scarcely time to recover herself, or to be aware of what had happened. The two assistants had fled the moment they perceived the King; and Elvira, with trembling steps and pallid cheeks, approached the spot where Roderick knelt beside the bleeding page. Throwing herself beside him, she attempted to staunch the blood which flowed rapidly from the wound, but in vain; for the boy’s life was evidently fast ebbing.
Brian, a servant of the King, who had followed his master to the terrace, aided her endeavours; but Roderick remained fixed and immoveable, his eyes chained as by the power of fascination upon the page, who now slowly unclosed his eyelids, and heaving a deep sigh, fixed his languid eyes upon those of Roderick.
“Zoe!” cried the King.
“Yes,” returned the page, gasping for breath, and speaking with difficulty; “Zoe! I am indeed that wretch. I loved you, Roderick; I would have died for you. I do die for you; but—but—Elvira—”
“What meant your outrage upon her?”
“What did it mean!” cried Zoe, her eyes flashing fire, and her whole frame supported by a supernatural energy; “did I not see that you loved her, and could I endure to resign you to another? No,” continued she, starting from the ground; “I would have killed her, and, had she perished, I should have died contented.”
The violence of the action made the blood gush in torrents from her wound; and, pale and feeble, her failing eyes closed. She staggered a few paces, fell, heaved one convulsive struggle, and Zoe was no more!
Sadly did Roderick gaze upon that form which had so lately thrilled with feeling—now cold and inanimate at his feet, the victim of passion lay before him. Her hopes, her fears, her rage, and her love, had passed away, and there her body remained, a senseless clod of clay, till it should be resolved into its original elements. By this time, some of the servants of the castle, who had been summoned by Brian, approached; and the old Earl of Warwick, in whose castle the fatal scene had taken place, rushed upon the terrace, calling wildly upon his people to save the Queen.
“Is it the Lady Elvira that ye mane?” asked Brian; “Och, an’t plase yere honour, and she’s safe, every inch of her!”
“And what has been the matter?” asked the Earl.
“Och, and your lordship may well ask that; but the devil a bit anybody can tell you but one, and that’s myself. Ye see, my master, his most gracious Majesty, and me were walking in the garden; that is, he was walking and I was watching, for fear any harm should happen to him; for the life of such as he isn’t to be trusted to chance in a strange country, and I guess he was thinking of the Queen, though he never said nothing about it. And so when we came near the terrace, it was so dark, ye couldn’t see yere hand before you. And then the moon peeped through the clouds, like a pretty face looking through a ground-glass window. And then she came out as bright as a silver mirror; and the Queen looked so pretty as she stood praying, that my master couldn’t find it in his heart to interrupt her; and for me, I wasn’t the man to be even thinking of such a thing. And then
