“I fear nothing,” said the confessor.

“Oh, we fear nothing,” said the bishop; “and it does seem to me, that the reverend father cannot well be excused taking a part in this duty, as he is in some sort under an engagement to the evil spirit (crossing himself) to see it executed.”

“But,” rejoined the friar, “would it not he felt by us all to be a great security, were we in this emergency to make use of the relics which are deposited in the church of San Salvador,—­and which no one, save the bishop, is worthy to handle?”

“’Tis an excellent suggestion,” said the alcalde.

Now the bishop, desirous no doubt of paying a compliment to the alcalde and the friar by intrusting these sacred relics to their care, in place of taking upon himself the honourable office of being their bearer, said:—­“The relics are indeed efficacious in cases of this nature; and while handling them, the greatest sinner upon earth has nothing to fear from an interview with any spirit.  I possess the power of delegating to whom I will, the high honour of bearing these relics,—­and into your hands, gentlemen, I will jointly commit them; and while you are engaged in the performance of your duty, I will invoke for you the protection of our tutelary saint.”

Such, I say, was the colloquy that took place between the bishop, the alcalde, and the friar,—­and when this proposal was made by the bishop, there can be no question that the fears of the alcalde were greatly allayed; and that the qualms even of the friar were in some degree quieted—­so great was the confidence placed in the virtues of the relics.

Meanwhile, the hours passed away, and night came.  I entertained little doubt, that this very night the coffin would be sent for Isabel; trusting to the efficacy of the threat held out to the confessor; and I prepared accordingly.  “You will have nothing to do, Isabel,” said I, “but to follow close at my heels.”  In thus providing for the escape of Isabel, I confess it was chiefly a regard for my own safety that prompted me to this.  A sojourn of between one and two weeks in the tower, upon half the miserable pittance of a prisoner, had greatly cooled the fever of my love; and I foresaw that a companion would, in no small degree, interfere with my projects of independence, and might even perhaps lessen the chances of my ultimate escape,—­but then, if Isabel were left behind, or could be prevailed upon to allow herself to be put into her coffin, it was too much to expect of her, that she would permit it to be consigned to the earth without giving some audible demonstration of being alive; and if one part of the trick were detected, threats or punishment would soon discover all the other parts of it; and my recapture would no doubt be the consequence.  Besides—­for why should I conceal the virtuous movements of my mind—­I felt a repugnance in leaving Isabel to perpetual imprisonment, or to the chance of being buried alive; but feeling at the same time, that if successful in delivering her from confinement, I should in that case have sufficiently acquitted myself of obligations, and satisfied my scruples, I resolved that upon the first favourable opportunity I would dispose of Isabel, and recover my independence.