All these
passed over her mind like a dream--the reality of her existence seemed
internal, and she said to herself,--“Were I at the altar, were my hand
locked in that of Montilla, Melmoth would rend me from him.” A wild but
deeply-fixed conviction--a wandering image of preternatural power,
overshadowed her mind while she thought of Melmoth;--and this image,
which had caused her so much terror and inquietude in her early hours of
love, now formed her only resource against the hour of inconceivable
suffering; as those unfortunate females in the Eastern Tales, whose
beauty has attracted the fearful passion of some evil genie, are
supposed to depend, at their nuptial hour, on the presence of the
seducing spirit, to tear from the arms of the agonised parent, and the
distracted bridegroom, the victim whom he has reserved for himself, and
whose wild devotion to him gives a dignity to the union so unhallowed
and unnatural(15). * * * * * *

  (15) Vide the beautiful tale of Auheta the Princess of Egypt, and
  Maugraby the Sorcerer, in the Arabian Tales. “Aliaga’s heart expanded amid the approaching completion of the
felicitous plans he had formed, and with his heart, his purse, which was
its depositary, opened also, and he resolved to give a splendid fete in
honour of his daughter’s nuptials. Isidora remembered Melmoth’s
prediction of a fatal festival; and his words, “I will be there,” gave
her for a time a kind of trembling confidence. But as the preparations
were carried on under her very eye,--as she was hourly consulted about
the disposal of the ornaments, and the decorations of the
apartments,--her resolution failed, and while she uttered a few
incoherent words, her eye was glazed with horror. “The entertainment was to be a masked ball; and Isidora, who imagined
that this might suggest to Melmoth some auspicious expedient for her
escape, watched in vain for some hint of hope,--some allusion to the
probability of this event facilitating her extrication from those snares
of death that seemed compassing her about. He never uttered a word, and
her dependence on him was at one moment confirmed, at another shaken to
its foundation, by this terrible silence. In one of these latter
moments, the anguish of which was increased beyond expression by a
conviction that her hour of danger was not far distant, she exclaimed to
Melmoth--“Take me--take me from this place! My existence is nothing--it
is a vapour that soon must be exhaled--but my reason is threatened every
moment! I cannot sustain the horrors to which I am exposed! All this day
I have been dragged through rooms decorated for my impossible
nuptials!--Oh, Melmoth, if you no longer love me, at least commiserate
me! Save me from a situation of horror unspeakable!--have mercy on your
child, if not on me! I have hung on your looks,--I have watched for a
word of hope--you have not uttered a sound--you have not cast a glance
of hope on me! I am wild!--I am reckless of all but the imminent and
_present_ horrors of to-morrow--you have talked of your power to
approach, to enter these walls without suspicion or discovery--you
boasted of that cloud of mystery in which you could envelope yourself. Oh! in this last moment of my extremity, wrap me in its tremendous
folds, and let me escape in them, though they prove my shroud!--Think of
the terrible night of our marriage! I followed you then in fear and
confidence--your touch dissolved every earthly barrier--your steps trod
an unknown path, yet I followed you!--Oh! If you really possess that
mysterious and inscrutable power, which I dare not either question or
believe, exert it for me in this terrible emergency--aid my escape--and
though I feel I shall never live to thank you, the _silent suppliant_
will remind you by its smiles of the tears that I now shed; and if they
are shed in vain, its smile will have a bitter eloquence as it plays
with the flowers on its mother’s grave!”

“Melmoth, as she spoke, was profoundly silent, and deeply attentive. He
said at last, “Do you then resign yourself to me?”--“Alas! have I
not?”--“A question is not an answer. Will you, renouncing all other
engagements, all other hopes, depend on me solely for your extrication
from this fearful emergency?”--“I will--I do!”--“Will you promise, that
if I render you the service you require, if I employ the power you say I
have alluded to, you will be _mine_?”--“_Yours!_--Alas! am I not yours
already?”--“You embrace _my_ protection, then? You voluntarily seek the
shelter of that power which I can promise? You yourself will me to
employ that power in effecting your escape?--Speak--do I interpret your
sentiments aright?--I am unable to exercise those powers you invest me
with, unless you yourself require me to do so. I have waited--I have
watched for the demand--it has been made--would that it never had!” An
expression of the fiercest agony corrugated his stern features as he
spoke.--“But it may yet be withdrawn--reflect!”--“And you will not then
save me from shame and danger? Is this the proof of your love--is this
the boast of your power?” said Isidora, half frantic at this delay. “If
I adjure you to pause--if I myself hesitate and tremble--it is to give
time for the salutary whisper of your better angel.”--“Oh! save me, and
you shall be my angel!” said Isidora, falling at his feet. Melmoth shook
through his whole frame as he heard these words. He raised and soothed
her, however, with promises of safety, though in a voice that seemed to
announce despair--and then turning from her, burst into a passionate
soliloquy.--“Immortal Heaven! what is man?--A being with the ignorance,
but not the instinct, of the feeblest animals!--They are like
birds--when thy hand, O Thou whom I dare not call Father, is on them,
they scream and quiver, though the gentle pressure is intended only to
convey the wanderer back to his cage--while, to shun the light fear that
scares their senses, they rush into the snare that is spread in their
sight, and where their captivity is hopeless!” As he spoke, hastily
traversing the room, his foot struck against a chair on which a gorgeous
dress was spread. “What is this?” he exclaimed--“What ideot trumpery,
what May-queen foolery is this?”--“It is the habit I am to wear at the
feast to-night,” said Isidora--“My attendants are coming--I hear them at
the door--oh, with what a throbbing heart I shall put on this glittering
mockery!--But you will not desert me then?” she added, with wild and
breathless anxiety. “Fear not,” said Melmoth, solemnly--“You have
demanded my aid, and it shall be accorded. May your heart tremble no
more when you throw off that habit, than now when you are about to put
it on!”

“The hour approached, and the guests were arriving. Isidora, arrayed in
a splendid and fanciful garb, and rejoicing in the shelter which her
mask afforded to the expression of her pale features, mingled among the
groupe.