The Three Brides, Love in a Cottage, and Other Tales | Page 5

committing suicide. But misery
had completely, though temporarily, wrecked her intellect. She felt no
horror, no remorse at the deed she was about to commit. With a steady
hand she raised the goblet to her lips, and then drank the fatal draught,
as she supposed it, to the last dregs.
"I must sleep now," she said, with a deep sigh. "I shall never wake
again." And throwing herself, dressed as she was, upon her couch, she
soon fell into a deep slumber.
How long her senses were steeped in oblivion, she could not tell. But
she was awakened by shrill screams, and started to her feet in terror.
"Where am I?" she exclaimed. "Are those the cries of the condemned?
Am I indeed in another world?"

"But louder and louder came the shrieks, and now she recognized the
tones as those of the old duenna. Deeply as the woman had wronged
her, Magdalena's feminine nature could not be insensible to her distress.
She sprang down the stairway, and now stood by the bedside of the
duenna, over which Juanita was already bending.
"What is the matter?" she exclaimed.
"The wine! the wine! the flask of Xeres! the Venetian goblet! I am
poisoned!" cried the old woman, as she writhed in agony.
The truth instantly flashed on the preternaturally-sharpened intellect of
Magdalena. Her own immunity from pain confirmed the fatal
supposition.
"Good God!" she cried, in tones of unutterable anguish, "I have killed
her!"
The exclamation caught the keen ear of the malignant hag, suffering as
she was. She raised herself up on her elbow, and pointing with her
skinny finger to the horror-stricken girl, she screamed,--
"Yes, yes; you have murdered me! Send for a leech, a priest, an officer
of justice! Do not let that wretch escape! She gave me a poisoned
draught! she knew it--she confesses it! Ha, ha! I shall not die
unavenged!"
These fearful words caught the ear of Don Antonio, as, having hastily
dressed himself, he rushed into the room. They caught the ear, too, of a
curious servitor, who flew to the alguazil before he summoned priest
and chirurgeon.
In less than an hour afterwards, the old beldam had breathed her last,
but not before she had made her false deposition to the officer of justice;
not before she had learned that a paper containing evidence of poison
had been found in Magdalena's room; not before she had seen the
hapless girl arrested; and then she died with a lie and a smile of hideous
triumph on her lips.

We cannot attempt to describe the anguish of the old goldsmith, and the
despair of Juanita, as they beheld Magdalena torn from their arms to be
carried before a judge for examination, and thence to be cast into prison.
Believing in her innocence, and confident that it would be established
in the eyes of the world, they longed for the dread ordeal of the trial.
The hour came, but only to crush their hearts within them. The guilt
was fixed by circumstantial evidence on the unfortunate Magdalena.
Poor Juanita was forced to testify to the facts of a quarrel between her
cousin and the hapless duenna, and to violent language used by the
former to the latter. A paper which had contained poison had been
found in the apartment of the accused. Her own hasty confession of
guilt, the dying declaration of the victim added
"--confirmation strong As proofs of Holy Writ."
Magdalena was condemned to die. In that supreme hour, when her
protestations of innocence had proved of no avail, the film fell from the
organs of her mental vision. Knowing herself guilty of premeditated
suicide, she saw in the established charge of murder a dreadful
retribution. To make her peace with Heaven in the solitude of the
prison cell, was now all that she desired. She had proved the
worthlessness of life, and now she prepared herself to die. But her
tortures were not ended. Julio, her lost lover, demanded an interview
with her, and when, after listening to her sad tale, he renewed his vows
of love, and expressed his firm belief in her innocence, earth once more
bloomed attractive to her eyes; life became again dear to her at the very
moment she was condemned to surrender it. Her execution was fixed
for the next day, at the hour of noon. At that hour, she was to take her
last look of her father, her cousin, her lover--the last look of God's
blessed earth.
The morning came. She had passed the night in prayer, and it found her
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