The Columbia Democrat. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1837-1850, 1839-05-11

asked Esterine.
'The hour of seven will find him on the
scraggy moor. The bloody copse lies but
a few rods therefrom-'twas there, my child,
we twice routed our pursuers, and return
ing as oft to the charge, covered with blood
and dust, did Henriquez deal death around
him-like lion the brave youth broke in
to their ranks, encouraging his firm CON-
rades TO strike for victory and Hildelbrand
Such deeds, Esterine can never forget
At seven he scours the scraggy moor
thus far Ills well. And now, father, CON-
mend thyself to sleep-this night the deed
is done, which prOlongs the life of Henri
quez. Good night
This said, she retired to an inner cham
ber TO prepare for daring enterprise.
The iron tongue of time had told ten up
on the drowsey ear of night, when Ester
inc again made her appearance. She was
habited in the garb of way-faring man
her countenance appeared hideous from the
manner in which she had arranged the diff
ferent shades of paint-in her hand she car
ried pilgrims staf--whilst concealed in
the folds of a leather jerkin, could be dis
tinctly seen a brace of silver-nounted pis-
tolls. HiIdebrand was reclining on a couch,
seeminly wrapped in deep study. He
startled at the entrance of Esterine, for un-
der her disguise he recognized her not
Quick as thought his sword cleaned from
the reflection of the fire, above the uncon-
conscious girl-when with tremuous
voice she cried ont, DO you not know
your Esterine The arm Of Hidebrand
fell, as he demanded, What means this at
tire art thou crazy?' Nay, father, but l
have sworn to proiong the life Of Hcnriquez,
or die in the attempt! l know the danger
run into, but the death of Henriquez adds
another victim 10 the gravel The eyes Of
Hildebrand glistencd with delight as he gaz-
ed upon his heroic daughter, and clasping
her to his bosom, whilst the tears of Joy
rolled down his weather-beaten cheek, he
proudly said, Go my child, and may God
crown yours efforts
Estcline, after taking farewell of her pa
rent, hurried on her matured mission. The
rain poured down in torrents-the loud
roaring of the mountain bllows broke up
on the stiffness of the night-trsmendou
thunder rolled in the dstance-thc an
cry waves dashing against the shore threw
the white surf high in the air-and the
lightning's blue flames like lighted fire
danced the ocean. She had left the forest
far behind, and was now winding her way
round narrow path which led past the
tower of the condemned. At length she
paused shril was the blasts of wind
that swept over the turrets of that lofty
tower, and echoed through the leaAess
limbs Of the aged oaks. How memorable
was the scene before her. At this tower
many heart sunk with horor-many
doating mother parted with her darling son
and many tender bride hung weeping
on the bosom of her husband. Again she
pursued her journey, and as she neared the
tower, the sentinel demanded, 'who goes
there!'
"A pilgrim, returned Esterine, bound for
the holy Mecca, to seek absolution of his
sins.
God protect those who thus seek forgive
ness at the Mecca such night as this. But
poor prisoner needs holy prayers within
this dungeon. Poor Henriquez! will you
not pray with him holy fatherl'
'ln Gods name | will! Lead me to the
prisoner replied the pseudo pilgrim.
The sentinel conducted Esterine through
the gloomy vaults of the tower, and stop
ping at loathsome dungeon, he threw O.
pen the door which led to the ill-fated Hen
riquez. The light of the lamp fell upon
the victim, who started from his pallet of
straw, on the entrance of the sentinel, and
in firm voice, demanded if his hour had
come
Na,ys returnad tho sapt;nal 81 boya