He saw her in her
beauty,--her devotedness,--her pure and perfect innocence,--her sole
feeling for one who could not, by the fearful power of his unnatural
existence, feel for mortal being. He turned aside, and did not weep; or
if he did, wiped away his tears, as a fiend might do, with his burning
talons, when he sees a new victim arrive for torture; and, _repenting of
his repentance_, rends away _the blot_ of compunction, and arms himself
for his task of renewed infliction. “Well, then, Isidora, you will give me no proof of your love? Is that
what I must understand?”--“Demand,” answered the innocent and
high-souled Isidora, “any proof that woman ought to give--more is not in
human power--less would render the proof of no value!”

“Such was the impression that these words made on Melmoth, whose heart,
however, plunged in unutterable crimes, had never been polluted by
sensuality, that he started from the spot where he stood,--gazed on her
for a moment,--and then exclaimed, “Well! you have given me proofs of
love unquestionable! It remains for me to give you a proof of that love
which I have described--of that love which only _you_ could inspire--of
that love which, under happier circumstances, I might---- But no
matter--it is not my business to analyse the feeling, but to give the
proof.” He extended his arm toward the casement at which she
stood.--“Would you then consent to unite your destiny with mine? Would
you indeed be mine amid mystery and sorrow? Would you follow me from
land to sea, and from sea to land,--a restless, homeless, devoted
being,--with the brand on your brow, and the curse on your name? Would
you indeed _be mine_?--my own--my only Immalee?”--“I would--I
will!”--“Then,” answered Melmoth, “on this spot receive the proof of my
eternal gratitude. On this spot I renounce your sight!--I disannul your
engagement!--I fly from you for ever!” And as he spoke, he disappeared. CHAPTER XXII. I’ll not wed Paris,--Romeo is my husband. SHAKESPEARE. “Isidora was so accustomed to the wild exclamations and (to her)
unintelligible allusions of her mysterious lover, that she felt no
unwonted alarm at his singular language, and abrupt departure. There was
nothing in either more menacing or formidable than she had often
witnessed; and she recollected, that after these paroxysms, he often
re-appeared in a mood comparatively tranquil. She felt sustained,
therefore, by this reflection,--and perhaps by that mysterious
conviction impressed on the hearts of those who love profoundly--that
passion must always be united with suffering; and she seemed to hear,
with a kind of melancholy submission to the fatality of love, that her
lot was to suffer from lips that were sure to verify the oracle. The
disappearance, therefore, of Melmoth, gave her less surprise than a
summons from her mother a few hours after, which was delivered in these
words: “Madonna Isidora, your lady-mother desires your presence in the
tapestried chamber--having received intelligence by a certain express,
which she deems fitting you should be acquainted withal.”

“Isidora had been in some degree prepared for extraordinary intelligence
by an extraordinary bustle in this grave and quiet household. She had
heard steps passing, and voices resounding, but

    “She wist not what they were,”

and thought not of what they meant. She imagined that her mother might
have some communication to make about some intricate point of conscience
which Fra Jose had not discussed to her satisfaction, from which she
would make an instant transition to the levity visible in the mode in
which one attendant damsel arranged her hair, and the suspected sound of
a ghitarra under the window of another, and then fly off at a tangent to
inquire how the capons were fed, and why the eggs and Muscadine had not
been duly prepared for Fra Jose’s supper. Then would she fret about the
family clock not chiming synchronically with the bells of the
neighbouring church where she performed her devotions. And finally, she
fretted about every thing, from the fattening of the “pullen,” and the
preparation for the olio, up to the increasing feuds between the
Molinists and Jansenists, which had already visited Spain, and the
deadly dispute between the Dominican and Franciscan orders, relative to
the habit in which it was most effective to salvation for the dying body
of the sinner to be wrapped. So between her kitchen and her
oratory,--her prayers to the saints, and her scoldings to her
servants,--her devotion and her anger,--Donna Clara continued to keep
herself and domestics in a perpetual state of interesting occupation and
gentle excitement. “Something of this Isidora expected on the summons, and she was,
therefore, surprised to see Donna Clara seated at her writing desk,--a
large and fairly written manuscript of a letter extended before
her,--and to hear words thereafter uttered thus: “Daughter, I have sent
for you, that you might with me partake of the pleasure these lines
should afford both; and that you may do so, I desire you to sit and hear
while they are read to you.”

“Donna Clara, as she uttered these words, was seated in a monstrous
high-backed chair, of which she actually seemed a part, so wooden was
her figure, so moveless her features, so lack-lustre her eyes. “Isidora curtsied low, and sat on one of the cushions with which the
room was heaped,--while a spectacled duenna, enthroned on another
cushion at the right hand of Donna Clara, read, with sundry pauses and
some difficulty, the following letter, which Donna Clara had just
received from her husband, who had landed, not _at Ossuna_(23), but at a
real sea-port town in Spain, and was now on his way to join his family. “DONNA CLARA,

    “It is about a year since I received your letter advising me of the
    recovery of our daughter, whom we believed lost with her nurse on
    her voyage to India when an infant, to which I would sooner have
    replied, were I not otherwise hindered by concerns of business. “I would have you understand, that I rejoice not so much that I have
    recovered a daughter, as that heaven hath regained a soul and a
    subject, as it were, _e faucibus Draconis--e profundis
    Barathri_--the which terms Fra Jose will make plain to your weaker
    comprehension. “I trust that, through the ministry of that devout servant of God
    and the church, she is now become as complete a Catholic in all
    points necessary, absolute, doubtful, or incomprehensible,--formal,
    essential, venial, and indispensible, as becomes the daughter of an
    old Christian such as I (though unworthy of that honour) boast
    myself to be. Moreover, I expect to find her, as a Spanish maiden
    should be, equipped and accomplished with all the virtues pertaining
    to that character, especially those of discretion and reserve.