Should I speak to Gerald?
Should I confide in Alvarez?
Should I renew my suit to Isora?
If the first, what could I hope to learn from my enemy?
If the second, what could I gain from the father, while the daughter remained averse to me?
If the third,--there my heart pointed, and the third scheme I resolved to adopt.
But was I sure that Gerald was this Barnard?
Might there not be some hope that he was not?
No, I could perceive none.

Alvarez had never spoken to me of acquaintance with any other Englishman than Barnard; I had no reason to believe that he ever held converse with any other.
Would it not have been natural too, unless some powerful cause, such as love to Isora, induced silence,--would it not have been natural that Gerald should have mentioned his acquaintance with the Spaniard?
Unless some dark scheme, such as that which Barnard appeared to have in common with Don Diego, commanded obscurity, would it have been likely that Gerald should have met Alvarez alone,--at night,--on an unfrequented spot?
What that scheme _was_, I guessed not,--I cared not.

All my interest in the identity of Barnard with Gerald Devereux was that derived from the power he seemed to possess over Isora.

Here, too, at once, was explained the pretended Barnard's desire of concealment, and the vigilance with which it had been effected.

It was so certain that Gerald, if my rival, would seek to avoid me; it was so easy for him, who could watch all my motions, to secure the power of doing so.