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Then in a very sweet voice she began to warble amorous Moorish ditties
that she accompanied upon the lute, whilst Peter, who was weary in body
and disturbed in mind, played a lover's part to the best of his ability,
and by degrees the darkness gathered.
At length, when they could no longer see across the garden, Inez ceased
singing and rose with a sigh.
"The play is finished and the curtain down," she said; "also it is time
that you went in out of this damp. Senor Pedro, you are a very bad
actor; but let us pray that the audience was compassionate, and took the
will for the deed."
"I did not see any audience," answered Peter.
"But it saw you, as I dare say you will find out by-and-by. Follow me
now back to your room, for I must be going about your business--and my
own. Have you any message for the Senor Castell?"
"None, save my love and duty. Tell him that, thanks to you, although
still somewhat feeble, I am recovered of my hurt upon the ship and the
fever which I took from the sun, and that if he can make any plan to get
us all out of this accursed city and the grip of Morella I will bless
his name and yours."
"Good, I will not forget. Now be silent. Tomorrow we will walk here
again; but be not afraid, then there will be no more need for
Margaret sat by the open window-place of her beautiful chamber in
Morella's palace. She was splendidly arrayed in a rich, Spanish dress,
whereof the collar was stiff with pearls, she who must wear what it
pleased her captor to give her. Her long tresses, fastened with a
jewelled band, flowed down about her shoulders, and, her hand resting on
her knee, from her high tower prison she gazed out across the valley at
the dim and mighty mass of the Alhambra and the ten thousand lights of
Granada which sparkled far below. Near to her, seated beneath a silver
hanging-lamp, and also clad in rich array, was Betty.
"What is it, Cousin?" asked the girl, looking at her anxiously. "At
least you should be happier than you were, for now you know that Peter
is not dead, but almost recovered from his sickness and in this very
palace; also, that your father is well and hidden away, plotting for our
escape. Why, then, are you so sad, who should be more joyful than
"Would you learn, Betty? Then I will tell you. I am betrayed. Peter
Brome, the man whom I looked upon almost as my husband, is false
"Master Peter false!" exclaimed Betty, staring at her open-mouthed. "No,
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