When Don Felix again visited his prisoner, his countenance was so expressive of consternation, that Stanley had scarcely power to ask what had occurred.  Marie had disappeared from the castle so strangely and mysteriously, that not a trace or clue could be discovered of her path.  Consternation reigned within the palace; the King was full of wrath at the insult offered to his power; the Queen even more grieved than angry.  The guards stationed without the chamber had declared on oath that no one had passed them; the Senoras Leon and Pas, who slept in the room adjoining, could tell nothing wherewith to explain the mystery.  In the first paroxsym of alarm they had declared the night had passed as usual; but on cooler reflection they remembered starting from their sleep with the impression of a smothered cry, which having mingled with their dreams, and not being repeated, they had believed mere fancy.  And this faint sound was the only sign, the only trace that her departure was not a voluntary act.

“Father Francis! the arm of the church!” gasped Stanley, as Don Felix paused in his recital, astonished at the effect of his words on the prisoner, whose very respiration seemed impeded.

“Father Francis has solemnly sworn,” he replied, “that neither he nor any of his brethren had connived at an act of such especial disrespect to the sovereign power, and of injustice towards the Queen.  Torquemada is still absent, or suspicion night rest on him—­he is stern enough even for such a deed; but how could even he have withdrawn her from the castle without discovery?”

“Can she not have departed voluntarily?” inquired Stanley, with sudden hope.  “The cry you mention may indeed have been but fancy.  Is it not likely that fear as to her fate may have prompted her to seek safety in flight?”

“Her Grace thinks not, else some clue as to her path must, ere this, have been discovered.  Besides, escape was literally impossible without the aid of magic, which however her accursed race know well how to use.  The guards must have seen her, had she passed her own threshold in any human form.  The casement was untouched, remaining exactly as the Senora Leon secured it with her own hand the preceding evening; and, even had she thence descended to the ground, she could have gone no further from the high and guarded walls.  It may be magic:  if so, and the devil hides himself in so fair a form, the saints preserve us! for we know not in whom next he will be hid.”  So spoke, gravely, seriously, undoubtingly, a wise and thoughtful Spanish noble, of the fifteenth century; and so then thought the whole European world.  Stanley scarcely heard the last words; for in his mind, however sorcery might be synonymous with Judaism it certainly was not with Marie; and he could only realize the fact of the utter impossibility of a voluntary flight.

“Had the Queen seen her since her trial?” he inquired.

“She had not; a fact which deepens her distress; for she fancies had Marie been nearer her person, and aware of the full extent of her merciful intentions, this might have been averted.  She believes that the smothered cry alluded to was really Donna Marie’s; but, if so, what the dark power is, which has so trampled on the royal prerogative, is plunged in as impenetrable mystery as every thing else, in which Donna Marie has been concerned.”