THE ROMANCE OF WAR, VOLUME 1 (continued 3)

"By all the powers above!" cried Alister, with fierce and stern energy, "if ever this accursed Spaniard crosses my path, I will make his head fly from his shoulders as I would a thistle from its stalk! nor shall all the corregidors and alcaldes in Spain prevent me. But how is Stuart? Poor fellow! he looks very pale. Has he lost much blood?"

Ronald, supported on the arm of Evan Iverach, stood erect within a circle formed by the officers who crowded round, while one of the regimental surgeons examined his left arm, which had been wounded by the shot.

"O gude sake! be gentle wi' him, doctor!" said honest Evan in great anguish, as he observed Ronald to wince under the hands of the medical officer; "be as gentle wi' him as possible. You doctor folk are unco rough ever and aye: dinna forget that he is your namesake, and kinsman forbye, though ye canna find out the exact degree."

"I hope, Doctor Stuart, the wound is not a very bad one?" said Cameron, dismounting from his horse and approaching the circle. "I augur ill from the expression of concern which your countenance wears."

"The shot has passed completely through, colonel, breaking the bone in its passage; but as the fracture is not compound, it will soon join after setting. I hope that none of the red coat, or any other foreign body, is lodged in the wound."

"Oh, if it should be a poisoned ball!" groaned poor Evan in great misery at the idea, while Doctor Stuart removed the sleeve of the coat, and Ronald endeavoured to conceal the miniature of Alice Lisle, which was nearly revealed by the disarrangement of his uniform. "Oh, if it should be a poisoned ball!" he repeated.

"Some of our very best chields have been slain wi' them before now,—especially at the battle of Arroya-del-Molino," observed his comrade Angus Mackie, with a solemn shake of his head.

"Oh, that I had only been at his side! It micht have hit me in his stead!"

"Silence, men! You chatter nonsense," said Cameron sternly. "And what think you now, doctor?"

"That as Mr. Stuart is young, and of a full habit, I must bleed him immediately."

"Stuff! My good fellow, he has lost blood enough already."

"I am the best judge of that, Colonel Cameron," replied Esculapius haughtily; "delay is fraught with danger. Holloa, there! where's the hospital attendant? Serjeant Maconush, undo the service-case and bring me the pasteboard splints, the twelve-tailed bandage, and other et cæteras: I will set the bone."

"It is impossible, Doctor Stuart," interposed Cameron. "Your intentions are all very good; but your clansman must return to Merida, where I sincerely hope he will be properly attended to. We have no time to await your operations just now, for which I am truly sorry, as Ensign Stuart will be well aware."

"Do not mind me, colonel," replied Ronald, whose teeth were clenched with the agony he endured. "I will return, as you say, and shall doubtless find a medical attendant. I hear the rear regiments are clamorous at this stoppage in their front, and yonder is Sir Rowland himself, advancing to discover the cause." He spoke with difficulty, and at intervals; the new and painful sensation of a broken limb, together with rage swelling his heart at the manner in which he had received it, made his utterance low and indistinct. Among the group around him he recognised Don Alvaro, who had galloped from the rear to discover the meaning of the confusion.

"Senor coronel," said he to Cameron, raising his hand to the peak of his helmet, "let him be taken to my house in Merida, where he will be properly attended to. Pedro Gomez,"—turning to his orderly serjeant,—"dismount. Give this cavalier your horse, and attend him yourself to my residence in the Calle de Guadiana, and desire Donna Catalina to have his wound looked after. You will remain with him until it is healed."

Pedro sprung lightly from his saddle, into which Ronald was with some difficulty installed.

"I thank you, senor," said Cameron, touching his bonnet, "and am glad this disagreeable matter is so satisfactorily arranged; the alcalde might have ordered him but an indifferent billet. Good bye, my dear fellow, Stuart; I trust we shall see you soon again, and with a whole skin. Mr. Grant, take the colours. Gentlemen, fall in; get into your places, men—into your ranks. Forward!" He delivered his orders with firm rapidity, and being a strict martinet who was not to be trifled with, they were instantly obeyed, and the commotion was hushed. The troops were too much accustomed to wounds and slaughter to care about the hurt received by Ronald, but it was the sudden and concealed shot which had raised their surprise and indignation.

Evan Iverach alone delayed executing the orders of Cameron, and entreated that he might be permitted to attend his wounded master to the rear.

"My good fellow, it cannot be," replied the colonel, pleased with the genuine concern manifested by Ronald's honest follower; "the enemy are before us, and I cannot spare a man. Nay, now, you need not entreat; fall into your place at once, sir."

"Oh! if you please, sir, dinna speak sae sternly. Did ye but ken—"

"Into your place this instant, sir! or I will have you stripped of your accoutrements, and sent prisoner to the quarter-guard," exclaimed Cameron sternly, his eyes beginning to sparkle. To say more was useless, and shouldering his musquet with a heavy heart, Evan took his place in the ranks, and moved forward with the rest; but he cast many an anxious look to the rear, watching the retiring figure of Ronald as he sat on the troop-horse, which was led by Pedro Gomez towards the bridge of Merida.

CHAPTER X.

FLIRTATION.

"Oh! the sunny peaches glow,

And the grapes in clusters blush;

And the cooling silver streams

From their sylvan fountains rush.

There is music in the grove,

And there's fragrance on the gale;

But there's nought so dear to me,

As my own Highland vale."

Vedder's Poems.

Ronald experienced most intense pain, together with a cold, benumbed feeling in the fractured limb; but it was as nothing in comparison to the mental torture which he endured, or the indignant and fierce thoughts that animated his heart. He entertained a deep and concentrated hatred of the wretch who, aiming thus maliciously and savagely at his life, had in so daring a manner inflicted a wound by which he might ultimately lose his arm, and which, for the present, disabled him from accompanying his comrades, who were rapidly following up the retreating foe, and eager to engage.

As his regiment belonged to the first brigade of the division, it consequently marched in front, or near the head of the column, and in his return to Merida he had to pass nearly 16,000 men; and the bitterness of his feelings was increased at the idea that every man there would probably share the honour of an engagement, of which his mutilated state forbade him to be a participator. Solemn and deep were the inward vows he took, to seek dire vengeance for this morning's work on Narvaez Cifuentes, if ever he again confronted him; and his only fear was, that he might never meet with him more.

From the bridge of Merida he cast a farewell look after his comrades, but nought could he see, save a long and dense cloud of dust, through which the glitter of polished steel and the waving fold of a standard appeared at times, as the extended length of the marching column wound its way up the gentle eminence, above which appeared the top of the spire of Almendralejo, several leagues distant.

By Pedro Gomez he was conducted to the stately mansion of Don Alvaro, and delivered over to the tender care of Donna Catalina, whose softest sympathies were awakened when the young officer was brought back to her scarcely able to speak, and his gay uniform covered with blood, for he had lost a great quantity, owing to the hasty manner in which his namesake the surgeon had bound up the wound. Add to this, that he was a handsome youth,—a soldier who had come to fight for Spain, and had but yesternight rescued her brother from death: the young lady's interest, gratitude, and pity were all enlisted in his favour. Her large dark eyes sparkled with mingled sorrow and pleasure when she beheld him,—sorrow at the pain he suffered, and pleasure at the happiness of being his nurse and enjoying his society in a mansion of which she was absolute mistress, and where there was no old maiden aunt or duenna to be a spy upon her, or overruler of her movements; and as for the scandal of Merida, or quizzing of her female companions, she was resolved not to care a straw,—she was above the reach of either. Her uncle, the Prior of San Juan, resided in the mansion, but the worthy old padre was so enlarged in circumference by ease and good living, and so crippled by the gout, that he never moved further than from his bed to the well-bolstered chair in which he sat all day, and from the chair back to bed again, and no one ever entered his room save old Dame Agnes, (already mentioned,) who alone seemed to possess the power of pleasing him; consequently he was never seen by the other inhabitants of the house, any more than if he did not exist.

We will pass over the account of the bone-setting by the Padre Mendizabal, the famous medical practitioner in Merida, who nearly drove Ronald mad by an oration on different sorts of fractures, simple and compound, and the different treatment requisite for the cure of various gun-shot wounds, before his arm was splinted and bandaged up. Weak and exhausted from the loss of blood, and his head buzzing with Mendizabal's discourse, right glad was Ronald when he found himself in a comfortable and splendid couch,—Catalina's own, which she had resigned for his use as the best in the house,—with its curtains drawn round for the night; and he forgot, in a dreamy and uneasy slumber, the exciting passages of the last few days, the danger of his wound, and the sunny eyes of the donna.

The tolling bells of a neighbouring steeple awakened him early next morning, and brought his mind back to the world, and a long chain of disagreeable thoughts.

There is scarcely any thing which makes one feel so much from home, as the sound of a strange church bell; and the deep and hollow ding-dong which rung from the gothic steeple of San Juan, was very different from the merry rattle of the well-known kirk bell at Lochisla. Ronald thought of that village bell, and the noble peasantry whom it was wont to call to prayer, and the association brought a gush of fond, and sad recollections into his mind. He felt himself, as it were, deserted in a strange country,—among a people of whose language he knew almost nothing; he looked round him, and his apartment appeared strange and foreign,—every object it presented was new and peculiar to his eye. He thought of Scotland—of HOME,—home with all its ten thousand dear and deeply impressed associations, until he wept like a child, and his mind became a prey to most profound and intense dejection,—suffering from the home-sickness, an acuteness and agony of feeling, which only those can know who have been so unhappy as to experience this amiable feeling; one which exists all-powerfully in the hearts of the Scots, who, although great travellers and wanderers from home, ever turn their thoughts, fondly and sadly, to the lofty mountains, the green forests, and the rushing rivers which they first beheld when young, and to the grassy sod that covers the dust of their warrior ancestors, and which they wish to cover their own, when they follow them "to the land of the leal."

The feverish state of his body had communicated itself to his mind, and for several days and nights, in the solitude of his chamber, he brooded over the memory of his native place, enduring the acuteness of the nostalgia in no small degree; and even the fair Catalina, with her songs, her guitar, and her castanets, failed to enliven him, at least for a time; his whole pleasure—and a gloomy pleasure it was—being to brood over the memory of his far-off home. The dreams that haunted the broken slumbers which the pain of his wound permitted him to snatch, served but to increase the disorder; and often, from a pleasing vision of his paternal tower with its mountain loch and pathless pine forests, of his white-haired sire as he last beheld him, or of Alice Lisle smiling and beautiful, with her bright eyes and curling tresses, twining her arms endearingly round him, and laying her soft cheek to his, he was awakened by some confounded circumstance, which again brought on him the painful and soul-absorbing lethargy which weighed down every faculty, rendering him careless of every present object save the miniature of Alice. The paleness of his complexion, and the intense sadness of his eye, puzzled his medical attendant, Doctor Mendizabal, but neither to him nor to Donna Catalina, who used the most bewitching entreaties, would the forlorn young soldier confess the cause of his dejection,—concealment of the mental feelings from others beins; a concomitant of the disease. So each formed their own opinions. Mendizabal concluded it to be loss of blood; and the lady, after consulting her cousin and companion, Inesella de Truxillo, supposed that he must unquestionably be in love,—what else could render so handsome an officiale so very sad?

This conclusion gave him additional interest with her; and certes, Alice Lisle would little have admired the attendance upon Ronald's sick couch of a rival, and one so dangerously beautiful; but her fears might have decreased, had she seen how incessantly, during the days he was confined to his bed, he gazed upon the little miniature which Louis Lisle had given as a parting gift. Concealing it from the view of others, he watched it with untiring eyes, until, in the fervency of his fancy, the features seemed to become animated and expanded,—the sparkling eyes to fill with light and tenderness,—the pale cheek to flush, and the dark curls which fell around it to wave,—the coral lips to smile; while he almost imagined that he heard the soft murmurs of her voice mingling with the gurgle of the Isla and the rustle of the foliage on the banks, where they were wont to play and gambol in infancy.

In a few days, however, his mental and bodily languor disappeared, and when, by the surgeon's advice, he left his sick chamber, his usual lightness of heart returned rapidly, and he was soon able to promenade under the piazzas of the Plaza with Catalina during the fine sunny evenings; and although the miniature was not less admired than formerly, the fair original would have trembled could she have witnessed all the nursing which Ronald received from his beautiful patrona, and heard all the soft things which were uttered.

As his strength increased their strolls were extended, and the young ladies of Merida smiled at each other, and shook their heads significantly, as the graceful donna, attired in her veil and mantilla, swept through the great stradi, flirting her little fan, with the foreign officiale in the plumed bonnet and rich scarlet uniform. His fair patrona showed him all the remains of Roman magnificence in Merida, and Ronald, who, like most of his countrymen, was an enthusiastic admirer of the gloomy and antique, explored every cranny and nook of the immense ruins of the once-important castle; surveying with a sad feeling the pillared halls which once had rung to the sound of the trumpet and the clashing harness of Spanish chivalry, but where now the ivy hung down from the roofless wall, and the long grass grew between the squares of the tessellated pavement. Time had reduced it to little more than a heap of shattered stones, but it was as ancient, probably, as the days of the Goths, during whose dominion a strong garrison lay at Merida.

The large amphitheatre, of which the citizens are so proud, formed another attraction, and its circular galleries were the scene of many an evening; walk with Catalina and her cousin Inesella of Truxillo, a very gay and very beautiful girl, with whom a great deal of laughing and flirting ensued in clambering up the steep stone seats, and rambling through its maze of arcades, arched passages, projecting galleries, and the long dark dens opening on the arena.

The Roman baths of Diana, a subterranean edifice of an oval form, containing ranges of dressing chambers, and a large stone bathing-basin filled with pure water, formed another object of interest; and many were the pleasant strolls they enjoyed along the grassy banks of the Guadiana and by the summit of a high hill, (the name of which I have forgotten,) in the shade of the broad trellis where the vines were bursting into leaf, and in every green lane and embowered walk about Merida, even to the hermitage of San Bartolomi,[*] where a white-bearded anchorite showed them the boiling-hot spring of Alange.

[*] A place three leagues eastward of Merida.

During this intercourse, Ronald rapidly improved in his Spanish; and who would not have done so under the tuition of such fair instructresses? He found it

"—pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue

By female lips and eyes—that is, I mean

When both the teacher and the taught are young,

As was the case, at least, where I have been;

They smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong

They smile still more; and then there intervene

Pressure of hands, perhaps even a chaste kiss:—

I learn'd the little that I know by this."

More than one week had slipped away, and Ronald had nearly recovered from his wound, though still obliged to keep his arm slung in a scarf. In the garden at the back of the mansion, he was seated by Catalina's side one evening on the steps of a splendid fountain, where four brazen deities spouted the crystal liquid from their capacious throats into a broad basin of black marble, from which, by some subterraneous passage, it was carried to the Guadiana. The spring was now advanced, and the delightful climate of Spain was fast arraying nature, and bringing her forth in all her glory. From the fountain, broad gravelled walks, thickly edged with myrtle, branched off in every direction, and between them were beds where the crimson geranium, the gigantic rose bushes, the pale lilac blossom, and a thousand other garden flowers, which it would be useless to mention, were budding in the heat of the vernal sun by day, and in the soft moist dews by night. Around and above them the graceful willow, the tufted accacia, the stately palm, the orange-tree with its singularly beautiful leaves, and numerous other shrubs, were spreading into foliage, which appeared to increase daily in richness of tint and variety; and beautiful vistas, winding walks, and umbrageous bowers were formed among them with all the art and nicety of Spanish landscape gardening.

The young Highlander and Catalina were seated on the margin of the fountain, as I have already said. They conversed but little. The donna busied herself with the strings of her guitar, and Ronald watched in silence the nimble motions of her white hands as she tied and untied, screwed and unscrewed the strings and pegs, and struck the chords to ascertain the true tone. Strange and conflicting thoughts flitted through his mind while he gazed upon his beautiful companion. He was aware how dangerous to his peace her presence was, and he almost longed for, yet dreaded the coming time, when he should be obliged to return to his regiment. To Alice Lisle he felt that he was bound by every tie that early intimacy, love, and honour could twine around him,—honour! how could he think of so cold a word? and while he did so, he blushed that he could find room in his heart for the image of another.

"Catalina is very beautiful—decidedly so," thought he, while he viewed the curve of her white neck, and the outline of her superb bust. "Her face is one of surpassing loveliness, and her eyes—but Alice is equally bewitching, although perhaps a less showy beauty. Alice is very gentle and winning, so lady-like, and we have known each other so long,—it is impossible I can forget her. Why, then, have I been trifling with one whose presence is so dangerous to my peace? Yes! if I would preserve a whole heart and my allegiance to Alice, I must fly from you, Catalina."

While he reasoned thus with himself, Catalina raised her dark and laughing eyes to his, while she struck the chords of her instrument, and sang a few words of a very beautiful Spanish air. So melodious was her tone, so graceful her manner, so winning the expression of eye, who can wonder that Ronald's resolution melted like snow in the sunshine, and that he felt himself vanquished? Poor Alice! With an air of tenderness and embarrassment he took the little hand of the donna within his own. She read in his eye the thoughts which passed through his mind; she cast down her long jetty lashes, while a rich bloom suffused her soft cheek. Ronald was about to murmur forth something—in fact he knew not what, when a loud knocking at the outer gate of the mansion, and the sound of a well-known voice, aroused him.

"Unbar the yett—this instant! ye auld doited gomeral! I will see my maister in spite o' ye," cried Evan impatiently, while Agnes delayed unbarring the door to so boisterous a visitor.

"Caramba, senor! Quien es?" she repeated.

"Gude wife, I speak nae language but my ain; so ye needna waste your wind by speirin' questions that I canna answer."

At Ronald's desire the old housekeeper undid the door, which was well secured by many a bar and lock, and he immediately saw the waving plumes of Evan's bonnet dancing above the shrubbery, as he came hastily towards the fountain, with his musquet at the long trail, and his uniform and accoutrements covered with the dust of a long day's march. His joy was unbounded on seeing his master, and rapid and quick were the earnest inquiries he made, without waiting for answers, concerning his wound, and how he had been treated "by the unco folk he had been left to bide amang,—begging the bonnie leddy's pardon."

Catalina bowed,—although she knew not a word that he said; but by the natural politeness and expression of the soldier's look, she knew that he referred to her.

"Now then, Evan, that I have answered all your inquiries, be pleased to stand steady, and moderate yourself so far as to reply to mine," said Ronald kindly, far from feeling annoyed at his appearance at a juncture so peculiarly awkward and tender. "How come you here just now? and how alone?"

"I got leave frae the colonel, after an unco dunning, to come here and attend you, for I thocht you would feel yersel unco queer, left alane among the black-avised folk, that canna speak a decent tongue. But here, sir, is a letter and a newspaper, sent you by Maister Macdonald." Evan, after fumbling among the ration biscuits, shoe-brushes, and other matters which crammed his havresack, produced them. "Just as I cam awa' frae the place whar' the regiment lay, in dreary strath—a place like Corrie-oich for a' the world—seventy miles frae this, I heard that the order had come to retire to the rear—"

"Upon Merida?"

"I canna say, sir, because the very moment that Cameron gied me leave, and Maister Macdonald gied me his letter, I set off, and have travelled nicht and day, without stopping, except may be just for an hour, to sleep by the road side or to get a mouthfu o' meat,—trash sic as ane wadna gie to puir auld Hector the watch-dog at hame, at auld Lochisla. O it was a far and a weary gait; but I was sae anxious to see ye, sir, that I have trod it out in twa days, in heavy marching order as ye see me, and I am like to dee wi' sheer fatigue."

"You are a faithful fellow, Evan; but I fear, by your love for me, you may work mischief to yourself. Here comes Dame Agnes,—to her care I must consign you. She was a kind attendant to me when I much wanted one."

"God bless ye for that, gude wife!" cried Iverach, catching her in his arms and kissing her withered cheek; a piece of gallantry which she owed more to Evan's native drollery and his present state of excitement, than any admiration of her person.

"I believe there is some gaucy kimmer at home, who would not like this distribution of favour, Evan," said Ronald; while Catalina clapped her hands and laughed heartily at the old dame, who, although very well pleased at the compliment, affected great indignation, and arranged her velvet hood with a mighty air.

"It's just quiet friendship for the auld body,—naething else, sir. Even puir wee Jessie Cavers wadna hae been angry, had she been present and seen me."

"Cavers—Jessie Cavers! I heard that name before, surely?"

"It's very like ye may, sir," replied the young Highlander, a flush crossing his cheek. "She is Miss Alice Lisle's maid,—a servant lassie at the Inch-house."

"O—a girl at Inchavon? I thought the name was familiar to me," faltered Ronald, reddening in turn. "But you had better retire, and tell the military news to Pedro Gomez, whom I see waiting you impatiently yonder."

Reserving the newspaper for another time, Ronald, with the donna's permission, opened Macdonald's letter.

"This billet is from the army," said she, familiarly placing her arm through the young officer's and drawing close to his side, while she caused his heart to thrill at her touch. "Ah! tell me if there is any news of my brother Alvaro in it?"

"I will read it aloud, translating those parts you do not understand. It is dated from Villa Franca:—[*]

[*] The date of poor Macdonald's letter is now obliterated, and I have forgotten what it was,—about the month of March (1812), I think.

"DEAR STUART,

"Fassifern and the rest of ours are anxious to know how you are, after that wound you received so villanously, and from which I hope you are almost recovered by this time. Send us word by the first messenger from Merida to the front. Remember me particularly to the fair Catalina, and I assure you that your quarters at present in her splendid mansion, are very different from mine here,—in a wretched hut, where the rain comes in at the roof, and the wind at a thousand crannies. You may congratulate us, my old comrade, on the easy victories we obtain over Messieurs the French, who have been driven from Almendralejo, and all the places adjacent, with little loss on our part. I now write you from a village, out of which our brigade drove them a few days ago. How much you would have admired the gallantry of our Spanish friend Don Alvaro, who accompanied us in this affair. On our approaching the enemy, they retired without firing a shot at first, and his troop of lancers, who were halted on the road leading to Los Santos, charged them at full gallop, shouting Viva Ferdinand! España! España y buena Esperanza!"

"Noble Alvaro! my brave brother!" interrupted Catalina, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I will always love this officiale for what he says. Oh! that Inesella was here! She is betrothed to Alvaro, senor, and would have been wedded long since, but for a quarrel they had about Donna Ermina, the wife of old Salvador, the guerilla chief."

"It was a noble sight," continued the letter, "to see the tall lances levelled to the rest, the steel helmets flashing in the sun, and to hear the clang of the rapid hoofs, as the Spaniards rushed down the brae and broke upon the enemy with the force of a whirlwind, a thunderbolt, or any thing else you may suppose. Campbell protested it equalled the charge of the Mamelukes, when he 'was in Egypt with Sir Ralph.' Alvaro has now gone off to join Murillo, where he hopes to meet Don Salvador de Zagala, whom he vows to impale alive. He left me but an hour ago, and desires me in my letter to send a kiss to his sister. This, I dare swear, you will be most happy to deliver."

Ronald faltered, and turned his eye on Catalina, who blushed deeply. It was impossible to resist the temptation; her face was very close to his, and he pressed his lips upon her burning cheek.

"Read on, senor mio," she said, disengaging herself with exquisite grace; "perhaps there may be more about Alvaro?"

Ronald glanced his eye over the next paragraph, and passed it over in silence and confusion.

"A little flirtation en passant, you know, will not injure your allegiance to the fair ladye whose miniature—but you may burn my letter without reading further, should I write much on that subject. Angus Mackie, a private of your company, was the other night engaged in a regular brawl with the natives of Almendralejo,—some love affair with the daughter of an old abogado (lawyer). I refer you for the particulars to the bearer, who was engaged in it. We had another row at Almendralejo the day we entered it. Some Spaniard, by way of insult, ran his dagger into the bag of Ranald Dhu's pipe, and so great was the wrath of the 'Son of the Mist,' that he dirked him on the spot; and although the fellow is not dead, he is declared by Doctor Stuart to be 'in a doubtful state.'

"I have sent you an Edinburgh paper, (a month or two old,) wherein you will see by the 'Gazette' that a Louis Lisle has been appointed to us, vice poor Oliphant Cassilis, killed in the battle of Arroya. There are people of the name in Perthshire; perhaps you may know something of this Lisle."

The blood rushed into Ronald's face, and a mixed feeling of pleasure and shame to meet the brother of Alice filled his mind. He read on—

"I was just about to conclude this long letter, when some strange news arrived. Ciudad Rodrigo has been invested, and it is supposed must capitulate soon. Our division has been ordered by Lord Wellington to retire into Portugal forthwith; the 'gathering' is at this moment ringing through the streets of Villa Franca, and the corps is getting under arms.—Adieu, &c.

ALISTER MACDONALD."

"P.S.—L. Lisle is at Lisbon, bringing up a detachment for ours,—a hundred rank and file. I do not know what route we take for Portugal; but you had better endeavour to join us on the way."

CHAPTER XI.

ALICE LISLE.—NEWS FROM HOME.

"As you are beauteous, were you half so true,

Here could I live, and love, and die for only you.

Now I to fighting fields am sent afar,

And strive in winter camps with toils of war;

While you, alas, that I should find it so!—"

Virgil, Pastoral x.

Within the chamber which he occupied Ronald sat late that night, musing on what was to be done, and what course was now to be steered. He saw that it was absolutely necessary that he should proceed instantly to rejoin,—a measure which the healed state of his wound rendered imperative. "The division is retreating," thought he, "and the Count D'Erlon will without doubt push forward immediately and regain possession of Merida, and I must inevitably be taken prisoner. I will join Sir Rowland as he passes through; the troops must pass here en route for Portugal. How dangerous to my own quiet is my acquaintance with Catalina, and how foolishly have I been tampering with her affections and with my own heart! Good heavens! I have acted very wrong in awakening in her a sentiment towards me, which my plighted troth to Alice and my own natural sense of honour forbid me to cherish or return. And Catalina loves me; her blushes, her downcast eyes, and her sweet confusion have betrayed it more than once. 'Tis very agreeable to feel one's self beloved, and by so fair a girl, for Catalina is very beautiful; but I must fly from her, and break those magic spells which are linking our hearts together. To-morrow—no, the day after, I will leave Merida, and join the division as soon as I hear by what route it is retiring."

Louis Lisle, too, the brother of Alice, was now an officer in the same corps, and his bold spirit would instantly lead him to seek vengeance for any false or dishonourable part acted towards his sister. "Poor Louis! he is the first friend I ever had; and how will so delicate a boy, one so tenderly nurtured, endure the many miseries of campaigning here? A single night such as that we spent in the bivouac of La Nava, would unquestionably be his death."

Here his cogitations were interrupted by the voice of Evan, who was carousing in the room below with Gomez, (having spent the night together over their cups, although neither understood a word of the other's language), singing loud and boisterously,—

"Keek into the draw-well,

My Jo Janet;

And there ye'll see yer bonnie sell,

My Jo Janet."

a performance which drew many 'vivas!' from his brother-soldier. Roused from the reverie into which he had fallen, Ronald's eye fell on the newspaper sent him by Macdonald, and he now took it up, thinking to find something in it to direct the current of his thoughts; and somewhat he found with a vengeance! Better would it have been if he had never thought of it at all. It was an Edinburgh Journal, dated several weeks back, and appeared to have passed through the hands of the whole division, it was so worn and frittered. After scanning over the 'Gazette,' to which he had turned first "with true military instinct," his eye next fell upon one of those pieces of trash styled 'fashionable news,' It was headed—

"MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.—We understand that the gallant Earl of Hyndford is about to lead to the hymeneal altar the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Sir Allan Lisle, Bart., M. P. for ——. The happy event is to take place in a few weeks at Inchavon-house, (Perthshire,) the family seat of the venerable and much respected baronet."

The room swam around him, and the light faded for a moment from his eye, while the hot blood gushed back tumultuously through the pulses of his heart; but clinching his teeth firmly, and mustering all his scattered energies, he read it over once more, while mingled sorrow and fury contracted and convulsed the muscles of his handsome features. There was no doubting the purport of the torturing intelligence, and Catalina was forgotten in the fierce excitement of the moment. "O Alice! Alice!" he said, bitterly and aloud, "could I ever have expected this of you? 'Tis but a few months since we parted, and she is false already. I am, indeed, soon forgotten!"

He crushed the paper up, and thrusting it into the charcoal pan on the hearth, it was consumed in an instant. "Hyndford—Carmichael, Earl of Hyndford! Ay; the glitter of the coronet has more charms for her eye than a subaltern's epaulet; but I would not be my father's son, should I think more of her after this. I will learn to forget her, as she has forgotten me,—and this too shall perish!" He took the miniature from his neck, and was about to crush it beneath his heel; but when the well-known features met his eye, his fierce resolution melted away: he averted his head, and replaced it in his bosom, while a sad and subdued feeling took possession of his heart.

"I cannot destroy," thought he, "what has been so long a solace, and an object almost of worship to me. Even were she the bride of another, as perhaps she is at this very hour, I would yet wear and bear it for her sake, in memory of the days that are passed away and the thoughts I had nourished for years—ay, for years,—since the days we gathered the wild rose and the heather-bell on the bonnie braes I now almost wish never to behold again."

For the first hour or two, he felt as if every cord that bound him to happiness and existence was severed and broken, and an acute feeling of mental agony swelled his breast almost to bursting. His Highland pride came, however, to his aid, and roused within him feelings equally bitter, though perhaps less distressing; and starting up, he strode hastily about the apartment, and emptied more than once a large horn of Malaga, from a pig-skin which lay on a side-table near him, drinking deeply to drown care, and allay the wild tumult of his thoughts. But the wine was as water, and he quaffed it without effect.

The baseness of her desertion grew every moment more vivid; and how openly must she have renounced him, when even the public journals had become aware of her intended alliance, which must have been a measure of her own free will, as her father Sir Allan would never control her affections, and the age of forced marriages was passed away, or existed only in the pages of romance. Love and jealousy, sorrow, pride, and a feeling of helplessness at the great distance which separated him from Britain, passed rapidly through his mind; and during the mental agony and tumult of the first few hours, he forgot Catalina and the honourable struggles he had made with himself to withstand the witchery of her beauty, until the recollection of it rushed fully upon him, raising him in his own estimation, and lessening the fickle Alice in an equal degree.

He hastily threw open his baggage-trunk, and producing writing materials, commenced a letter, in which he meant to upbraid her bitterly, and take a haughty and sad farewell of her for ever. But so great was his agitation, so fast did his ideas crowd upon each other, and so much were they mingled together and confused, that he wrote only rhapsodies in incoherent sentences, and sheet after sheet was filled, torn up, and committed to the flames; until at last it flashed upon his mind that there were no means at present of transmitting a letter, and he abandoned the attempt altogether. Whenever he thought of Catalina, he felt more consoled for the loss of Alice; but yet the deep-rooted affection, the cherished sentiment of years which he felt for her, was a very different feeling from the temporary admiration with which the Spanish lady had impressed him; but ideas of a prouder, and perhaps more healing kind, came to his aid.

"I tread the path which leads to the greatest of all earthly honours,—even the passage to the throne lies through the tented field; and although I look not for that, the ambitious Alice may yet repent having slighted the love of Ronald Stuart of Lochisla. We know not what fate may have in store, or what the great lottery of life may cast up for me. Alice! oh, how false, how fickle, and how heartless! Like twin tendrils of the same tree, like little birds in the same nest, we grew unto each other,—our love increasing with our size and years; and yet, after all the tender sentiments we have exchanged and the happiness we have enjoyed, she has thus cruelly abandoned me, preferring the glitter of a title to the love of a brave and honest heart! But let her go; she will hear of me yet," he said almost aloud, while his sparkling eye fell on his claymore, which lay upon the table, "for this is the land where honour and fame are within the grasp of a reckless and daring soldier, for reckless of life and limb will I be from this hour. But I may fall unhonoured and unknown, as thousands have already done, as thousands more shall do; yet Alice, though perhaps she may drop a tear for me, will never be upbraided with the sight of my tomb!"

Long and silently he continued brooding over the cursed intelligence, which every moment grew, in his fancy, more like some vision of a disturbed slumber, or some horrible enigma; and the hour of twelve tolled from the belfry of San Juan, yet he thought not of rest. He had grown careless of all external objects, and sat with his brow leaning on his hand, absorbed in his own heart-corroding fancies. His lamp sunk down in the socket and expired,—the stars and the pale moon, sailing apparently through clouds of gauze, glimmered through the tall casement into the gloomy chamber, and poor Ronald still sat there, revolving and re-revolving the matter in his mind, which became a prey, by turns, to the very opposite sentiments of love and sorrow, pride, revenge, indignation, and ambition.

* * * * *

He awoke suddenly, and found that he had been asleep in his chair. The bright light of the morning sun was streaming between the dark hangings of the lofty windows, and the tolling bells of the neighbouring churches reminded him that it was Sunday. The instant he awoke, the aching memories of the past night rushed upon his mind; but he thought of the matter with a little more composure, and the presence of Donna Catalina, all blushes, smiles, and beauty, when the morning was further advanced, contributed very considerably to the re-establishment of his serenity, but her keen eye observed that he was ill at ease. His usual vivacity was gone; he appeared much abstracted, seldom speaking except of his departure, and in a tone of more than usual regret. They had previously arranged to visit the church of San Juan on that day, that Ronald might see high Mass performed, and hear the sub-prior, whom the citizens considered a miracle of learning and piety, preach.

Catalina retired to don her walking attire, while Ronald, from the balcony, gazed listlessly into the street, scarcely observing what was passing there. Peasantry from the neighbourhood were crowding in, attired in dresses at once graceful and picturesque; the men wearing, some the close vest, the broad sombrero, knee-breeches, and large mantle, while others were without it in a loose jacket, with a sash of ample size and gaudy colours tied round their waists, and having on their heads long slouched caps. Many—almost all—wore knives displayed somewhere about their person, and all had a peculiar swagger in their walk, which seemed not ungraceful. Bright-eyed women in their black hoods or mantillas,—priests in their dark robes of sack-cloth, their waists encircled with a knotted cord,—graceful peasant girls, their short bunchy petticoats displaying the most splendid ankles in the world,—sturdy muleteers with their long whips,—and market-women from the south bearing loads of butter, milk, and fruit on their heads, were crowding the street and thronging about the dark piazzas in every direction, and a loud gabble of tongues in Spanish was heard on all sides. Clouds of smoke arose from cigars, as every man had one in his mouth; and here and there, under some of the piazzas, might be seen a few muleteers and olive-cheeked girls, dancing a fandango or bolero about the door of a wine-house to the sound of the guitar, the tambarine, and the castanets.

"How very different is all this from the sober gravity which marks our Scottish sabbath-day!" thought Ronald, as he glanced languidly around the Plaza. Notwithstanding the mental excitement under which he laboured, the chain of ideas recalled to his memory a few lines of a poem he had once read, and which he now repeated to himself,—

"O Scotland! much I love thy tranquil dales;

But most on Sabbath eve, when low the sun

Slants through the upland copse, 'tis my delight,

Wandering and stopping oft to hear the song

Of kindred praise arise from humble roofs;

Or when the simple service ends, to hear

The lifted latch, and mark the grey-haired man,

The father and the priest, walk forth alone

Into his garden plat or little field,

To commune with his God in secret prayer."[*]

[*] "The Sabbath: a Poem.". Second Edition. Blackwood, Edinburgh, 1805.

This was one of the many passages in it, which were impressed upon his memory, and he remembered, with peculiar bitterness of feeling, that it was with Alice Lisle he had first perused the pages of that now forgotten poem, seated by her side in one of the green birchen glades through which the Isla flowed towards the Tay.

The heavy clang of a charger's hoofs broke in upon his reverie, and raising his eyes, he saw an officer of the light cavalry ride furiously into the Plaza, with his uniform covered with dust, and his horse and accoutrements dripping with white foam. Casting a rapid glance around him, he spurred at once beneath the balcony over which Ronald leaned, knowing him to be a British officer from his uniform.

He checked his horse by the curb-stone of the pavement.

"Evelyn—Lieutenant Evelyn, 13th Light Dragoons," said he, introducing himself. "Mr. Stuart, I presume?"

"Yes,—Stuart, of the 92nd Regiment," replied Ronald bowing. "I believe I have had the pleasure of seeing you before?"

"Ay, near La Nava, the evening we drove in Dombrouski's advanced picquet."

"I now remember. But what word from the front?"

"Oh! the old story,—a countermarch. Campaigning is like a game at chess: we have been ordered to retire into Portugal, and the second division will be in full retreat by this time. I suppose they will come down the other bank of the Guadiana."

"This movement, likely, has some relation to the recent investment of Ciudad Rodrigo. You will, of course, have heard of that?"

"Our works are carried within a very short distance of theirs. It is said that Marshal Marmont imagines it will hold out for several weeks yet; before which time he will give Lord Wellington battle, and attempt its relief. His lordship appears to be preparing, as troops from all quarters are concentrating under his command; so that, should Ciudad Rodrigo not soon capitulate, we may expect a battle with Marmont in a few days."

"Of course it must fall; Marmont will never attempt its relief. But will you not dismount and refresh yourself? You appear to have ridden far."

"I regret that it is impossible to dismount; I have tarried too long already. I am carrying despatches from Sir Rowland Hill to the rear, and I must be far beyond Albuquerque before night. My orders were to ride without drawing bridle; but my nag is failing already. Just before I left Fuente del Maistre, an orderly dragoon brought up the mail-bags from Lisbon; and a Major Campbell of yours, an immensely big man, but a soldier-like fellow, who insisted that he had seen me in Egypt, although I never was there, gave me a letter for you, that I might deliver it, on my route, at Merida."

"I thank you," replied Ronald in a scarcely articulate voice, while his fluttering; heart became a prey to alternate hopes and fears.

"I trust it will contain good news for you," said the horseman, unbuckling his sabre-tache. "Our letters here are like angels' visits, 'few and far between,' the post delivery being less regular than within sight of St. Paul's. By the by, how is that wound you received the morning we marched from this? I heard something of the story, and would be glad to hear it all, had I time; but there are so many hard knocks going now, that one cares little about them. Your arm is still in the sling, I see."

"I mean to discard it to-day. I am quite recovered now, and am about to rejoin immediately. But the letter?"

"Ay, here it is," replied Evelyn, raising himself in his stirrups, and handing the letter to Ronald, who received it by stooping over the balcony, and knew at once the large round family seal, and the hand-writing of his father.

"Alice, Alice! Evelyn, is there not another?" he groaned aloud in the bitterness of his spirit.

"Another?" laughed the cavalry officer, who heard him but imperfectly. "No, by Jupiter! and I am sorry the one you have received does not seem to be in the small running-hand of a fair lady; but it may contain what makes ample amends, you know,—a remittance from the old gentleman through Gordon, your paymaster, who is as jolly a fellow as ever broached a pipe or a pig-skin of wine. Ah! 'tis well when the old boy bleeds liberally. But now, so ho! for the road again! I would advise you to look out sharply while here. D'Erlon, the moment he becomes aware of our temporary retreat, will throw forward some of his cavalry, and regain the places he has lost. The low grounds by the river-side afford great advantages for a concealed movement, and you run a risk of being taken prisoner: the idea struck me as I entered the town a few minutes ago."

"How far is the division from this?" asked Ronald, impatiently awaiting the other's departure, that he might peruse the letter; "a day's march, think you?"

"Three, perhaps; Fuente del Maistre is a long way off. Remember that you must be careful what kind of guide you employ, should you require one in rejoining. And now, adieu."

"Adieu!" echoed Ronald. The other gave his horse the spur, let his reins drop, and was round the corner of the Plaza, out of sight in an instant.

Feeling all that trembling eagerness and indescribable delight which the arrival of a first letter from home, after a long absence, infuses into the heart, Ronald tore it open, but for some minutes was baffled in his attempts to read by an envious mist or film, which seemed to intercept his sight and prevented him from proceeding further than the date, which was upwards of a month back. The letter ran thus, and the ideas and style of the good old gentleman were observable in every line of it:

Lochisla, February 28*th*, 1812.

"MY DEAR BOY,

"I received your letters dated from Lisbon and Portalagre in due course, and cannot find words to express how overjoyed I was to understand by them that you were well, and did not feel the fatigue of long marches. Ronald, my son, may God protect you! You are very dear to me indeed,—dearer even than the little ones that sleep in the old kirk-yard. I can scarce get on further, for the salt and hot tears are filling my eyes, and it is no common emotion which makes a stern old man, like me, weep. We are living much in the old way here at the tower, with the exception that your absence has made a sad blank in the little establishment. My dear boy, I am very lonely now, and it is grievous when a man feels himself so in his old age. Your gentle mother, and her four little boys, are with the angels in heaven; the green grass covers their sunny ringlets, and you alone were spared me, but only to be exposed to the dangers of a soldier's life,—dangers which make my heart shrink within me for your safety.

* * * * *

"How very quiet is all around me at the moment I am writing! The bright evening sun is streaming through the mullions of the old hall window on the hearth, where you used to play when a little child, and your two old companions, Carril and Odin, are stretched upon the rug; they often whine, and look sadly in my face, or at your bonnet and gun in the corner, as if they still missed you. The noble hounds! I believe that although six months have elapsed since you were here, they have not forgotten you. The wind scarcely stirs the thickets about the tower, and all is very calm and still,—all save the beating of my own anxious heart, and its pulsations are audible.

All our friends and dependants here desire to be remembered to you and to Evan Iverach; and I am assured danger will never visit you, if the prayers of brave and honest hearts can avert it; for the people at the clachan, and in all the glen, pray for you nightly and daily, particularly old Donald. He does not pipe about so much as he used to do, but pays more attention than ever he did to the whisky kegs in Janet's pantry. Poor man! I forgive his melancholy; like me, he mourns the absence of an only son.

"Corrie-oich and I have quarrelled again, about a fight which took place at the last fair, between his herdsman and Alpin Oig. I would fain harry the lair of the old fox, and give his turreted house to the flames, as my father did in 1746. I would teach his fellows to beware how they spoke to a servant or follower of mine.

"I am likely to have a row with Inchavon also. He has trespassed more than once on our marches in his shooting excursions, in which he is always accompanied now by the Earl of Hyndford, who, it is said, is to be married to Miss Lisle, an old flame of yours, whom I trust you have forgotten by this time, as she has undoubtedly done you.

"Inchavon's son has received a pair of colours in your regiment, and has left Perthshire to join; you will, of course, keep him at a due distance, and as you value my paternal love, make neither a friend nor companion of him. Forget not the words your gallant old grandfather used, after cutting down Colonel Lisle at Falkirk: 'Never trust a Lisle of Inchavon, until your blade is through his body.'

"Sir Allan has revived his old claim to the lands and vacant peerage of Lysle, and Hyndford, who is one of our representative peers, is using all his interest for him in the upper house. Let him fish for any rank he pleases; our blood, my boy, is nobler than his own. We have been Stuarts of Lochisla since the days of our royal ancestor Robert the Second, and I seek no other title.

"By the by, that scoundrel Æneas Macquirk, the W.S. in Edinburgh, some time ago procured my name, as cautioner for a very large sum, to a deed connected with some cursed insurance business, of which I knew nothing. I fear the fellow is tottering in his circumstances; and should he fail, I will be utterly ruined, and the old tower, which has often defied an armed host, will, perhaps, be surrendered to some despicable Lowland creditor. To a Highlander, who knows nothing of legal chicanery, what a curse those harpies of the law are! Remember me to John Cameron of Fassifern, your colonel; he is a brave and good officer, and a true Highland gentleman. Be attentive to your duties, and never shrink from—— But I need not say that; I know that you will do what man dare do, and will never disgrace the house you spring from, or the gallant regiment to which you belong. Good by to you, my boy! let me hear from you soon and often; and that He, whose presence is everywhere, may ever bless and protect you, will be always the earnest prayer of your desolate old father,

"IAN STUART."

CHAPTER XII.

THE CONDÉ.

"The anthem rang; for on the heavenward air

'Gloria in excelsis' swept along,

From voices soft and forms divinely fair,

While the lone echoes did the notes prolong,

Swelling the numbers of the sweet angelic song."

Scenes among the Mountains, canto i.

So much was Ronald engrossed in the perusal of this letter, which so fully displays the eccentric manners of his father, that it was not until he had withdrawn his eyes from its pages that he became aware of the presence of Catalina, who stood by his side, veiled and robed in her velvet mantilla for church.

"You have received a letter from your home? I trust—I hope—there is nothing in it to cause you sorrow. Why do you sigh so very sadly?" said she, in a tone of thrilling tenderness.

"Indeed I cannot say that its contents are calculated to instil any other sentiments than sorrow," replied Ronald, depositing it in his breast; "and I fear, Catalina, that the last day I shall pass with—with you, will be a very unhappy one."

"The last day!" she repeated sorrowfully. "And are you still resolved on going so soon?"

"My arm, you perceive, is perfectly well now," replied the officer, tossing away the sling in which it hung; "and it is indispensable, if I would save my honour from disagreeable surmises, that I rejoin my regiment. Dearest Catalina! a hundred other circumstances, of which you are ignorant, compel me to leave you,—to leave you perchance for ever." While he spoke, a passionate flush gathered on his cheek, and passing his arm around the waist of the yielding girl, he drew her gently towards him; yet even the feeling of delight which he experienced at that moment, mingled with a sensation of anger at the faithlessness of Alice Lisle. To revenge himself, he pressed his lips a second time to the soft and burning cheek of the beautiful Spaniard, and felt his blood fly like lightning through his veins, while he watched the long lashes which modestly shaded the brilliance of her eyes, and read the smile of pleasure and inexpressible sweetness that played around her finely formed mouth.

A step was heard on the staircase.

"Santa Maria! Senor mio, el senor Gobernador; my uncle the prior!" she whispered, starting from Ronald's encircling arm. "Oh, 'tis only my gossiping cousin," she added with a smile, as Inesella de Truxillo swept into the apartment, with a long lace veil reaching from her stately head nearly to her feet, enveloping her tall and dashing figure.

"Pho! I fear I have interrupted some very gallant and tender scene. How very unlucky! Catalina, mi queredo, how you blush! Your veil and long glossy ringlets are all sadly disordered. Indeed, senor, you have quite turned the poor girl's head, and I fear we shall have some unhappy brawl, should my brother the Condé de Truxillo hear of it. He is one of Catalina's most passionate admirers, and we expect him here shortly."

"Inesella, I thought you were my uncle the prior," faltered Catalina, blushing with confusion.

"Our uncle, the padre?" cried the gay girl with a loud laugh. "O madre de Dios! do my little feet, which our citizens of Merida admire so much, make so great a noise as your old gobernador's? besides, he never leaves his room. Mi queredo, you compliment me! But you must remember that I am considered the best waltzer in Madrid, and the cavaliers there pretend to be very excellent judges. My poor cousin, you are very much abashed; allow me to arrange your curls. But you should not be flirting here with a young officiale instead of being at mass, and el Gobernador should give you a sermon for doing so. But the bells have ceased to toll, and we shall be late; 'tis fully five minutes' walk from here to the porch of San Juan's church. So let us begone at once, and use our joint endeavours to make you, senor, a convert to the true faith."

Ronald replied only by an unmeaning smile; and taking his sword and bonnet, prepared to accompany the young ladies. They were followed by Evan Iverach and Pedro Gomez, carrying camp-stools for their accommodation, the church (as usual in Spain) not being fitted up with pews; so that all who do not provide themselves with seats, are obliged to remain either on their feet or on their knees.

An indescribable emotion of deep religious veneration, inspiration almost of holy awe, filled the agitated mind of the young Highlander with sensations which he had never before experienced, when, for the first time in his life, he found himself beneath the groined roof and gigantic arches of the Roman Catholic cathedral, while all its thousand hollow echoes were replying to the notes of the sublime organ, the bold trumpet-tones of which shook the very pavement and grave stones beneath his feet. The appearance of the church, being so very different from what he had ever beheld before, made also a deep impression on his mind: the tall traceried windows, filled with gorgeously stained glass,—the strong variations of light and shadow which they caused,—the long lines of shafted columns, and the domed roof which sprung from their foliaged capitals,—the perfumes of the lavender flowers which, arising from smoking censers, filled the air,—the dark and gloomy altar-piece, with the altar itself bearing a gigantic crucifix of gilt work and enormous candlesticks of silver, the pale lights twinkling around it,—the floating drapery of the officiating priests,—the sonorous prayers uttered in an unknown language, and the fervent responses of the swarthy congregation, together with "the pealing organ" and the melodious song of the young choristers,—all these combined, entranced and elevated the enthusiastic soul of the young Highlander, raising it from the grossness and bitterness of earth almost, as it were, to heaven, so grand and impressive, in form and ceremony, is the religious service of the Church of Rome, as it exists on the continent in all its ancient glory.

Poor Evan, who had never heard any other religious music than the humble Presbyterian psalm in Lochisla kirk, was for some time struck with a feeling of such awe, that he scarcely dared to lift his eyes, lest he should encounter the formidable gaze of some spirit or divinity standing on the altar; and the wonderful sound of the music caused his bold heart to shrink, although he could have heard, without his courage failing, the roar of a thousand pieces of cannon. However, when the music ceased, and he had recovered his usual self-possession, the native prejudices and inherent sourness of the true Presbyterian assumed its ascendency in his mind.

"O sir, is this no an unco kirk?" he whispered from behind. "Gude guide us! never will I trust myself within the yett o' ane mair. Just look, sir, at that puir papist Pedro, how he yammers, and counts his string o' yellow beads ower and ower again. O'd, sir, this ding's a'! And look at the pictures, the images, and a' that: it's just a temptin' o' Providence to trust oursels inside o' this nest o' papistry, idolatry, and deevildom. Hech me, sir, what would the auld men and caillochs in the clachan o' Lochisla think or say if they kenned we were here? And what would our decent body o' a minister, auld maister Mucklewhame, think o' that chield's awfu' blatter o' lang nebbit words?"

Ronald had often motioned him to be silent, and he now ceased as the sub-prior, a black-browed priest of the order of St. Francis of Assisi, ascended barefooted, the marble steps which led to the lofty pulpit. He was attired in the garb of his order, a grey gown and cowl of woollen stuff, girt about his middle with a knotted cord of discipline. His chaplet hung at his girdle, and his cowl, falling over his neck, displayed his swarthy features, coal-black hair, and shaven scalp. At the same time, Ronald encountered the smiling glances which the keen bright eyes of the ladies bestowed on him, as they watched from time to time the impression made upon him by the solemnity of their church service. The sermon of the Franciscan was filled more with politics and invectives against the French and their emperor, than religious matters, dwelling emphatically on the singular addition made by the priests to the Spanish Catechism at that time,—"to love all mankind, excepting Frenchmen, of whom it was their duty to kill as many as possible."[*]

[*] See "Memoirs of the War in Spain, from 1808 to 1814; by Marshal Suchet, Duke d'Albufera."

"Well, Evan, what think you of the discourse?" said Ronald, in the low voice in which the groups clustered round the columns generally conversed. "I dare say the Spanish sounds very singular to your ear."

"Ay, sir; it puts me in mind o' an auld saying o' my faither the piper. 'A soo may whussle, but its mouth is no made for't.' O'd, sir, I wadna gie the bonnie wee kirk at Lochisla, wi' its grassy grave-yard, whar we used to play on the sabbath mornings, for a' the kirks in Spain, forbye—"

"Hush!" At that moment the priest had raised his voice while denouncing a curse upon all heretics; and his keen expressive eye fell, perhaps unconsciously, on Ronald, whose cheek reddened with momentary anger.

Evan's reply, and his native Scottish accent, caused Ronald to indulge in the same train of ideas. He acknowledged in his own heart, that notwithstanding the gorgeous display before him, he would prefer the humble and earnest, the simple and unassuming service in the old village kirk at home,—the quiet sermon of the white-haired minister, and the slowly sung psalm, raised with all the true fervour, the holy and sober feeling which animate a Scottish congregation, and recall the soul-stirring emotions which inspired those who bled at Bothwell, at Pentland, and Drumclog. He thought of Alice, too; and eagerly did he long for the arrival of her brother Louis, that the cause of her heartless desertion might be explained.

The cry of "Viva la Religion y España! Muera Buonaparte!" from the preacher, echoed by the deep tone of a thousand Spanish tongues, awoke him from his reverie, and he took prisoner within his own the white hand of Catalina, who was playing with the silk tassels of his sash, unconscious of what she was doing.

"Senor," said she blushing, and withdrawing it, "you seem very melancholy."

"I have, indeed, much reason to be so. How can I appear otherwise, when the hours we shall spend together are so few?" But she may forget me as soon as Alice has done, thought he, and his heart swelled at the idea. The donna made no immediate reply, and Ronald was surprised to perceive her colour change from white to the deepest crimson, and then become deadly pale again, while her dark eyes flashed with peculiar brilliancy and light.

"Senor, the original of this is probably the cause of your sadness," she said, in a tremulous voice, while she held up her rival's miniature, which had fallen from the lapelle of Ronald's uniform, and hung at the full extent of the chain. "She is very beautiful. If this is her miniature, she must be a queen among women; and you love her very much, doubtless," she added in a cold and sorrowful tone which sunk deeply into the heart of Ronald as he hastily concealed the object of her emotion.

"May I ask who she is, senor?"

"A very dear friend, or rather one who was such."

"She is dead, then,—or perhaps it is a portrait of a sister."

"I never had one," replied the young man colouring with confusion, while he taxed his imagination to find a reply in vain. Happily for him he was relieved from his dilemma by an exclamation from Donna Inesella, who had hitherto sat silent, and had, or affected to have, been gazing intently at the preacher.

"Holy Virgin!" she earnestly whispered. "See, Catalina, yonder is my brother the condé, leaning against the third column from Pizarro's monument."

"Here at church—the Condé de Truxillo here?" replied her cousin, becoming pale and agitated.

"Would to Heaven and San Juan that Balthazzar was any where else than here at this moment! Somewhat disagreeable will certainly come of it. Oh, senor! I tremble for you."

"For me, Donna Inesella! Sure you mean not what you say. I have a hand to protect myself with, and care not a straw for any condé or cavalier in Spain."

"True, senor. I meant not to offend, but my brother Balthazzar is so fiery——Ah! he sees us now."

Ronald looked in the direction pointed out, and saw a handsome Spanish officer in a dashing staff-uniform, wearing massive epaulets and aigulets of silver, and a score of military orders of knighthood, stars, badges, ribands, medals, and crosses on his breast, leaning listlessly against a pillar of the church, holding in one hand his cocked-hat, which was adorned with a large plume of red and yellow feathers, while the other rested on the hilt of a very long and straight Toledo. With a careless sort of glance he cast his eye along the aisle, as if he had been watching them ever since their first entrance; but on perceiving himself observed, he came hastily towards them. A frown for a moment crossed his fine forehead; but the next a soft smile replaced it, and he stroked the coal-black moustache which curled on his upper lip, forming a contrast in hue with his remarkably white teeth below.

To his sister and cousin he paid his compliments in a graceful and polite, yet distant manner,

"Balthazzar, this is the British officer of whom I told you in my last letter," whispered Inesella, introducing Ronald; "the same who saved Alvaro de Villa Franca's life when——"

"I have heard all the story; so spare me a repetition of it," replied he, waving his hand and coldly bowing to Ronald, at whose presence he felt a displeasure which, certes, he took very little pains to conceal.

"But tell me, Balthazzar, what has brought you here so unexpectedly? and why do you frown in so unbecoming a manner?"

"Faith, Inesella! you are exceedingly impolite; but to be angry with you is useless. I am carrying despatches from my colonel, the Condé Penne Villamur, to Don Carlos d'España, and I must leave Merida in a few hours, or less. But how is it that my fair cousin Catalina has not one smile of welcome to bestow on me, though six months have elapsed since I was last at Merida?"

"Indeed, Balthazzar, I am most happy to see you; but el senor padre would little like my laughing in church, you know."

"El senor padre? pho! But where is that most prudent of brothers Don Alvaro now? I heard that he had run his captain through the body, and so got command of his troop."

"'Twas a base falsehood circulated by old Don Salvador, whose guerillas were supposed to have done the deed; but Alvaro has joined the Spanish army under Murillo, cousin condé."

"He is a thoughtless brother, truly," replied the condé, glancing at Ronald, "to go off thus, leaving you under the care of my uncle the prior, who is nearly as useless now as a piece of spiked ordnance. A young lady without guidance——But you look as if about to speak, senor."

"Don Salvador de Zagala," observed Ronald, whom the condé had never addressed until now, "is also with Murillo; and there may be some dangerous brawl between Alvaro and him, should they meet."

"O Dios mio! Santa Maria forbid," exclaimed the young ladies together.

"It would be more prudent in Alvaro, senor, to allow the guerilla chief to go in peace, and without molestation. He suffered the wrong, and was in the right to resent it. My cousin Alvaro, although an accomplished soldier, is no match for old Salvador, who in the use of the sword and pistol has scarcely his equal in Spain; besides, Murillo is a fine old fellow, and he takes most summary vengeance upon any noble cavalier who seeks the free privilege of the duello in the camp. I presume, senor, you are at Merida on some duty? I believe you will find it very agreeable,—much more so than hard fighting and long marches."

"No, condé; I have been here for the recovery of a wound, received from a Spanish hand in a manner at once base and dishonourable," replied Ronald, his brows contracting at the sarcastic tone used by the Spanish officer; "a wound in the arm which is barely healed, and it is scarcely an hour since I relinquished the scarf in which it hung."

"Then, senor, I think that the sooner you rejoin your brave regiment, the better for your fair fame. A gallant soldado who values his honour, would scarcely permit a scratch to detain him from the field."

"A scratch! How now, condé! what am I to understand by this premeditated rudeness?" said Ronald furiously and aloud, his cheek flushing, and his eye sparkling with anger. "What mean you, senor?"

"Merely what I have said, senor officiale," replied Don Balthazzar in the same provoking tone of sarcastic coldness, "But be pleased to moderate your transports for another and more fitting time. It would ill become a noble cavalier, like me, to brawl at church or in the presence of ladies. But you shall hear from me again, senor;" and bestowing a vindictive glance at Ronald, and a cold bow on his cousin and sister, he pressed through the crowd, and left the church.

"Holy Virgin! Inesella, O Dios! I dreaded that this would come to pass the moment I saw Balthazzar here," whispered Catalina in great agitation. "He is so fierce and untractable, that he never visits Merida without fighting a duel with some one. But you, senor mio, surely you will not lay to heart what he has said to you?"

"Calm yourself, Catalina. I know not what to think; but certainly his behaviour to me is very unaccountable. Have no apprehension on my account; as I said before, I care not for any cavalier in Spain, and Heaven knows there are plenty of them."

"Pho! Catalina," said her thoughtless cousin; "heed not Balthazzar's angry looks, though, indeed, he can be fierce enough when he pleases. He will probably depart immediately with his despatches: he said he had but a short time to tarry."

"Pray Heaven that may be so!"

"And then Don Ronald and he will perhaps never meet again."

"Let us leave the church. O Inesella! how my heart flutters."

"Indeed, my sweet cousin, your eyes have been the cause of more than one duel already, as the notches on Balthazzar's sword can testify; and you have great reason to feel sorrow and disquiet."

"I hear the hoofs of a horse; 'tis galloping through the Plaza."

"It must be his, Catalina: thanks to our Lady of the Rock, he is gone! They may meet no more."

The ladies were, however, both mistaken. Scarcely had Ronald escorted them home, before Evan placed in his hand a note, addressed to "El Noble Caballero, Don Ronaldo Stuart, 92nd Regimiento, Calle de Guadiana."

In spite of the many vexations which annoyed him, Ronald well nigh laughed on seeing this strange and imperfect address. "This is some trick of Alister's," thought he, as he tore open the billet, the contents of which undeceived him.

"SENOR,

"When the clock of the Casa del Ayuntamiento strikes the hour of two, I shall be awaiting you in the thicket behind the ruins of the castle of Merida. You will not fail to come well armed. BALTHAZZAR DE TRUXILLO."

Anger and surprise were Ronald's first emotions on perusing this unlooked-for challenge, which he considered an additional aggression; and having already been grossly insulted, he deeply regretted that he had not "stolen a march" on the condé, by sending him the hostile message first.

"The devil!" muttered he; "this will be a pretty winding-up of matters, to be shot by this vindictive Spaniard! But, every thing considered, my life is scarcely worth having: certes, a challenge could not have come at a better time, when my heart is filled with misanthropy, gall, and bitterness, and my feelings deadened by the news I have received within these twenty-four hours. Perhaps Alice may weep when she reads of my death in the 'Gazette,'—so and so to be ensign, vice Stuart, deceased. Sorrow or death—come what may, my heart is strung for it all." A sour smile crossed his features, and he glanced at the clock of the corporation-house: it wanted but a quarter of two.

"I shall be late," said he, buckling on his sword. "What shall I do in this cursed dilemma? I have neither a friend to accompany me, nor pistols to use; and the condé may object to so formidable a weapon as the broad-sword. Would to God Macdonald, Chisholm, or any of ours, were here! Evan," said he, turning to his servant, who had watched his excitement, and heard his half-muttered speeches with considerable concern and surprise. "Evan!"

"O'd, sir, ye needna speak sae loud: I'm just behint ye. What's yer wull, sir?"

"I have received a challenge to fight that Spanish officer you saw at church, and you must accompany me as second. It will be prudent to come armed, as some of these Spaniards are treacherous hounds, and the condé may be no better than his neighbours. Get your musquet and accoutrements, and follow me to the ruinous castle at the end of the town; but do not alarm the young ladies, who I see are walking in the garden below."

"A duel! to fecht a duel? Gude guide us, sir, that's unco sudden," replied Evan, turning pale with concern. "And are ye really gaun?"

"Going, Iverach! can you ask me such a question?"

"And your sair arm scarcely weel yet!—it will never do. O'd, sir, let me gang in your place, and my name's no Evan Iverach if I dinna gie that saucy-looking chield his kail through the reek."

"Obey me instantly,—the time is nearly up; follow me at once, without further trifling. I should regret to speak harshly, Iverach, as this, perhaps, is the last day we may ever spend together. I have a great regard for you, Evan; we have been friends since we were little children, and I always forget the distance which birth and the rules of the service place between us in consequence."

"O sir! O'd, sir—"

"Should I fall," said Ronald, speaking in a rapid though faltering tone; "should I fall, you will find some papers and other matters in my baggage, which I wish transmitted home to Lochisla; and these I desire you will deliver either to Major Campbell or Mr. Macdonald."

"Sir, sir—O Maister Ronald! my very heart is bursting to hear ye rin on in that gait," replied Evan, beginning to shed tears, which he strove in vain to conceal. "I would—I would wi' pleasure gang in your place, face this chield mysel, and gie him what he deserves. Dinna think the waur o' me, sir, because I greet like a bairn. I would face hand to hand ony mortal man without quailing; but my spirit flees clean awa', when danger draws nigh you."

"Stay, Evan, my dear old play-fellow; hold, for Heaven's sake! You will quite unman me. I am indeed deeply sensible of the regard you bear me, and have not forgotten the kind act you performed in our wretched bivouac at La Nava. But dry your tears: your fathers did not weep when they followed mine to battle."

"Ye are richt, sir," replied Evan, recovering his self-possession as his pride was roused; "but my faither wadna be ashamed to yammer himsel, if he kenned that danger was nigh you. May be at this hour they ken it at Lochisla: auld Janet sees things farther off than ither folk. Ye'll no forget she has the gift o' the second-sicht."

"Listen! If any thing should happen to me, you will find attached to this chain a miniature of Miss Lisle,—Miss Lisle of Inchavon," continued his master in a tremulous voice. "Tell Mr. Macdonald it is my particular desire that it be restored to her, or her brother Louis, who will shortly be with the regiment. I trust in Heaven you will see this done. And for my father—my poor father! you will find in my largest trunk——But I will tell you the rest by the way: it is useless addressing you while you are in this agitated state. Keep up your heart, Evan, like a man and a Highlander!"

"Sir, if ye should fa'," replied Evan, in a tone of assumed firmness, "a' that ye tell me most religiously will I obey,—ay, obey as I would the commands o' a voice frae Heaven itself,—that is, if I can survive you, which I dinna think possible. O hoo could I ever face the puir auld laird at hame, and tell o' what had come ower ye in this unco place?" The honest fellow pressed his master's hands between his own, while he endeavoured to subdue his sorrow and dread.

"But for what do I greet, sir?" said he, placing his regimental bonnet jauntily on one side of his head. "A Scotchman is as gude as a Spaniard, and better, may be. Ye were aye a deadly shot on the muirs, and may settle this chield, as ye have dune mony a bonnie fallow-deer, by an ounce o' lead in the wame."

At that moment the bell of the Casa del Ayuntamiento tolled the hour of two.

"Time is up, by heavens!" exclaimed Ronald passionately; "and this cursed count has obtained a triumph over me: he will be first on the ground!" He cast a hasty glance at the graceful figure of Catalina, as she leant on the margin of the fountain conversing with Donna Inesella. Evan hastily examined the lock of his musquet, and they sallied forth in silence.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE DUEL.

"It has a strange, quick jar upon the ear,

That cocking of a pistol, when you know

A moment more will bring the sight to bear

Upon your person,—twelve yards off, or so;

A gentlemanly distance, not too near,

If you have got a former friend for foe.

But after being fired at once or twice,

The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice."

Don Juan, canto iv.

Passing rapidly through the Plaza, and down the great street which leads towards the Guadiana, they ascended the eminence on the outside of the city, where the remains of the mouldering fortress stand. It was a solitary spot, surrounded by thickets of bushes and tall weeping willows. There was little chance of an interruption in such a place, especially at an hour when the streets were almost deserted, while the lazy Spaniards were enjoying their siesta. Within one of the square courts, round which rose the mossy fragments of shattered towers, they found the Condé de Truxillo holding his charger by the bridle, and conversing with the Spanish doctor, Mendizabal, whose case of instruments was displayed on a large mass of fallen masonry near.

The condé seemed to be impatiently awaiting Ronald's appearance.

"Senor!" said he haughtily, "you have been in no hurry to attend my summons. I believe I mentioned in the church of San Juan that I was hastening with despatches to Don Carlos d'España, and consequently had no time to lose in Merida."

"I am but a few minutes beyond the appointed time, condé; and you must be aware that the notice I received was very sudden."

"As sudden as unwelcome, perhaps."

"Senor! your observations are contemptible, and your blood alone can wipe out your repeated insolence," was Ronald's fierce reply. "Condé, your life only can atone for such conduct; and by the heavens above, we part not this day until the sword is dyed with the blood of one or both of us."

"This is mighty gay! Your language promises bold deeds, senor," replied the other ironically.

"For what have I received this hostile message from you, condé? from you, whom I have never wronged?"

"When I acquaint you, senor," replied the Spaniard, his olive cheek glowing for an instant; "when I acquaint you that Catalina de Villa Franca is my betrothed wife, I have, perhaps, sufficiently answered that question."

"Donna Catalina is no more to me than any other lady in Spain," said Ronald, colouring in turn, for he knew the assertion to be false.

"Enough!" replied the condé fiercely. "I did not come here to chatter, senor,—my time is too short for that. You have brought pistols, of course?"

"I have no weapon but my sword; and I am perfect master of it."

"We will prove that in good time. I, however, am better provided." He took from his holsters a very handsome pair of long horse-pistols. "Choose one, senor; and here are ball-cartridges enough to last us till sunset, which you are scarcely like to see, if my hand is as steady as it usually is."

Ronald replied only by a scornful smile, and they proceeded each to load.

"Now, then," said Truxillo, "we are all ready, I suppose. I will retire to the ruinous wall, and you will please to stand where you are. 'Tis a very convenient distance. But what mean you by bringing an armed soldier with you here?" he exclaimed, his attention being attracted to Evan by the latter, in the excitement of the moment, loosening his bayonet in the sheath.

"He is a private soldier of my own regiment. I had no other friend in Merida to accompany me."

"Friend? A brave soldier requires none to assist him in defence of his honour. You must know, senor, that a Spanish cavalier, in an affair of this sort, seeks no other ally than a sharp blade and sure eye: however, desire your fellow to retire, that there may be no treachery. We draw lots for the first shot, I presume?"

"Agreed, condé," answered Ronald, whose Highland blood was all on fire, and whose anger had been gradually increasing at the cavalier's insolent demeanour and assumed tone of superiority, until he longed with a fierce eagerness to chastise him by the infliction of some severe bodily injury,—if not totally to deprive him of life. Lots were drawn by Doctor Mendizabal, and the first shot fell to the condé. An expression of triumphant malice glittered in his large dark eyes; he smiled sourly, showing his white teeth, and retreated close to the ruinous wall, where he planted himself about sixteen paces off, and examined with the most scrupulous accuracy the flint, priming, and muzzle of his pistol.

With the other in his right hand, Ronald stood erect, awaiting the condé's fire.

I must own, that when he heard the click of the lock, his heart for a moment failed him at the prospect of so sudden a death, and the fear of falling unrevenged: it was the feeling of a moment only,—the next he was all stern eagerness to be fired at, and to fire in his turn, should he survive. With clasped hands and starting eyes Evan watched the heart-stirring affair, stoutly resolving, should his master fall, to avenge him by driving his bayonet through the heart of Don Balthazzar.

"Cuidado; senor officiale," cried the condé triumphantly; "Don Alvaro's imprudence is likely to cost you dear. By our Lady of the Rock your life is forfeited. I am the most deadly shot in all Castile; but yet I would spare you on one condition,—that you swear by a soldier's sacred word of honour, never again to come into the presence of Donna Catalina."

"What right have you to dictate terms so degrading? Never, proud Spaniard! while I live, will I make such a promise."

"Then die!" cried the other furiously. He raised his pistol: his eye glanced over the sight for a second,—he fired, and the surrounding ruins rang with the sharp report. Ronald's pulses beat more freely as the hissing shot whistled through his Highland bonnet, sending one of the long black feathers which adorned it floating away on the evening breeze.

"Praise be to the Lord in Heaven! ye have escaped," said Evan, fervently. "But it's your turn now, sir: level low, and if the muzzle rises ye'll be sure to wing him like ony muir-cock; and mony a gude thousand we've bagged thegither in Strathonan, and mony mair we'll bag gin we get ower this awfu' adventure."

"Dios y Demonios! some demon of hell has turned aside my hand. I have shot at a score, and never yet swerved in my aim," cried the condé in a hoarse tone of anger and surprise, when as the smoke cleared off he beheld his antagonist still standing erect before him. "No! by Santiago, I never missed before. You have stood my discharge bravely, senor cavalier; but my courage is not less than your own. Fire!" he cried, laying his hand upon his heart.

"Noo, Maister Ronald,—noo, sir! O be calm; may be ye'll never hae sic anither chance. This chield look's unco saucy; but mind ye the auld proverb, "Ilka cock craws crouse on its ain middenstead." Its most awfu' wark this for a Sabbath evening; but oh, sir! level low; mark the buckle o' his waist-belt, and if the piece throws high, like the ither, the braw dies at his button-holes stand a bad chance." Evan spoke in an anxious and hurried tone, while he eyed the condé with no slight feeling of hatred and animosity. Ronald levelled his pistol at the tall and finely formed figure of his brave opponent, who surveyed him steadily, without a muscle of his noble features changing.

"I can never thus coldly shoot so fine a fellow," thought the generous Highlander, and fired his weapon in the air. An exclamation of sorrow from Evan, and another of angry surprise from the Spaniard, followed the report.

"Santos Santissimos! what mean you by this? Am I unworthy of being fired at? You have most grossly insulted me by this action, senor; and you ought to have considered the very great honour I did you, in becoming personally your antagonist."

"How! Don Balthazzar; honour?—"

"Certainly. Save myself, perhaps, no cavalier of noble lineage, or a long transmitted name, would have condescended to contend thus openly in arms with a stranger, whose birth and blood are both obscure. No, senor! a dagger-thrust from a dark corner would have put an end to our rivalry. But think not to escape; for, by our Lady of the Rock in Leon,[*] we part not this day, until the sod smokes with the blood of one or other of us,—so defend yourself!" He unsheathed his long cavalry sword, and rushed so suddenly upon Ronald, that the latter had barely time to draw and parry his impetuous onset. So fierce was his stroke, that the arm of the Highlander tingled to the very shoulder when their keen blades clashed together; and so much was he infuriated at this unlooked-for assault, that for some moments he struck blindly and at random, whirling his heavy claymore round his head like a willow wand, and having many narrow escapes from the sharp-pointed blade of the Spaniard, who retained his temper and presence of mind admirably. Ronald soon found the necessity of being cool likewise, and using art as well as courage. In the fashion of the Highland swordsman, he placed forward his right foot with a long stride, presenting it as a tempting object for a blow, while he narrowly watched the eye of his adversary, who instantly dealt a sweeping stroke at the defenceless limb, which the young Gael withdrew with the rapidity of light, bestowing at the same time a blow on the condé, which broke the shell of his Toledo and wounded his right hand severely.

[*] A much-frequented image of the Virgin Mary, on a mountain called the rock of France, between the city of Salamanca and Rodrigo, in Leon. It stood there, or still stands in a building, which is, I believe, a monastery of Dominican friars.

He dropped his shattered weapon.

"Claymore for ever!" shouted Evan, triumphantly capering about, snapping his fingers, whooping and hallooing in a truly Highland style, so overjoyed was he to see his master victorious. "Claymore for ever and aye! bonnily dune,—bravely dune. Sir, Wallace himsel couldna hae matched him better. It was my puir auld faither learned ye that trick, Maister Ronald; and God be thanked it's a' ower noo, and that your skin is a haill ane."

The discomfited cavalier bestowed on him a proud look, at once withering and disdainful.

"Noble senor," said he, turning to Ronald, "you have this day vanquished one of the most accomplished of King Ferdinand's cavalry officers,—in fact, senor, I am one of the best swordsmen in all the ten provinces of Spain; and to disarm me thus, is no small feat for so young a soldier, and I honour you for it. Catalina de Villa Franca must be—but strike! Fortune has placed my life a second time at your absolute disposal; take it, for I swear, by every saint on our monkish muster-rolls, I will have no ignominious terms dictated to me, even though disarmed and at your mercy. So strike the blow that will free you from me for ever."

"Never! gallant condé. This quarrel was your own seeking, and I forgive you for it freely, and for the many insults you have offered me."

"Senor officiale, you are too generous: no cavalier or rival in Spain would lose the chance you cast away so carelessly."

"Evan, hand this gentleman his sword? And now, condé, we must look to your wound: I trust it is not a severe one?"

"Pho! 'tis a mere scratch."

"Yet it bleeds much."

"Carajo! it does,—more than I wish it to do. But, senor, I have received so many wounds in different ways, and have bled so much, that I marvel I have any blood left in me at all."

"I regret that the cut is so severe," said Ronald, as the condé held up his hand, from which the blood streamed freely.

"Pho! senor; to express regret, though it may appear very generous, is folly. A few minutes since we would with pleasure have passed our blades through each other's hearts,—but that feeling is past now. Ho! Mendizabal. Rogue! why do you tarry? Bind up this quickly, and let me be gone. I have lost much time already, and Carlos d'España will scarcely get the despatches within the appointed time." The wound was tied up hastily, so impatient was Don Balthazzar to be gone; and a strange excitement and irritability possessed him now, instead of his former coolness and self-possession.

The moment it was over, he sharply scrutinized his saddle-girths and harness-buckles; after which he vaulted with the grace of a true horseman upon the back of his noble Spanish charger, which had stood by unmoved during the conflict between its rider and Ronald Stuart.

"Senor," said the condé to the latter in a low but emphatic voice, "our quarrel is ended amicably for the present; but perhaps we may meet again. Do not think that a cavalier of old Castile will thus easily resign to another so fair a prize as Catalina de Villa Franca. No, senor; I must live for her, or learn to die for Spain."