firm and resigned. In the heart of a true woman there lies a reserve
of courage that shames the prouder boast of man. She may not face
death on the battle-field with the same defying front; but when it
comes in a more appalling form and scene, she shrinks not from the
dread ordeal. When man's foot trembles on the scaffold, woman stands
there serene, unwavering, and self-sustained.

One hour before the appointed time, the door of Magdalena's cell
opened, and a tall figure, wrapped in a dark cloak, with a slouched
hat and sable plume, stood before her. It was the same who had gazed
on her so often in the church of San Ildefonso, the same who had
encountered Julio in the narrow street with proofs of her alleged
falsity.

"Is the hour arrived?" asked Magdalena, calmly.

"Nay," replied the stranger, in a deep tone. "Can you not see the
prison clock through the bars of your cell door? Look; it lacks yet an
hour of noon."

"Then, sir, you come to announce the arrival of the holy father,--of
my friends."

"They will be here anon," said the stranger.

"I do not," said Magdalena, in the same calm tone she had before
employed, "see you now for the first time."

"Beautiful girl!" cried the stranger; "no! I have for months haunted
you like your shadow. Your fair face threw the first gleams of