A voice aroused her with a start; it was so like her mother's, that the dream seemed lingering still.
"Marie, my beloved one," murmured the voice, and a breath fanned her cheek, as if some one were leaning over her.

She unclosed her eyes--the words, the voice, still so kept up the illusion, though the tones were deeper than a woman's, that even the hated dress of a familiar of the Inquisition could not create alarm.

"Hast thou forgotten me, my child?
But it matters not now.

Say only thou wilt trust me, and safety lies before us.

The fiends hold not their hellish court to-night; and the arch-fiend himself is far distant, on a sudden summons from the King, which, though the grand Inquisitor might scorn, Don Luis will obey.