Chapter IV: Part 4

A strange bustle immediately rose around them, and a sargento appeared bearing a lamp, the light of which revealed his brown uniform, and browner features. They found themselves in the chapel of the convent, and the red glare of the blazing lamp was cast on its fluted columns, groined arches, and Gothic ornaments, giving a wild and romantic appearance to the scene, which was heightened by the presence of Don Alvaro's troop. About sixty fine Spanish steeds, with flowing tails and manes, stood ranged on each side of the nave of the building, saddled and bridled, bearing the carbines, holsters, and valises of their riders, who, muffled in their long brown cloaks, with their swords and helmets beside them, were sleeping among the horse-litter, or looking up surprised at the interruption. Every man lay beside his horse, and their tall lances were reared against the shafted pillars, from which military accoutrements, curry-combs, horse-brushes, &c. were suspended from the necks of angels and other effigies that adorned them.

"Pedro Gomez, raise the light," said Alvaro, "and let us see the face of this fellow, who to-night raised his hand against the life of your captain."

"_Dios mio!_" cried Pedro, placing the lamp within an inch of the prisoner's nose.

"The villain Narvaez, by heavens!" exclaimed Ronald, recoiling at the expression of indescribable hatred and ferocity legible in the ruffian's countenance, while his eyes shone with the sparkle of a demon's as the sullen glare of the lamp fell on their black balls.

"How d'ye do, Senor Cifuentes? Speak up, man. You are the very prince of rascals!" said the major, giving him a prod in the stomach with his stick.

"What!" exclaimed Macdonald, scrutinizing him with disgust and curiosity, "is this the fellow you told us about? the keeper of the wine-house at Albuquerque?"

"Ay, the same," answered Ronald; "a wretch who slew in cold blood the French officers. But he shall not escape us now."

"If I should, you shall live to repent it,--you shall, by the holy mother of God!" said the bold ruffian with a scornful smile.

A few words made Don Alvaro acquainted with the story of Narvaez.

"Fellow!" said he sternly, "I might almost forgive you the slaughter of the four Frenchmen,--I wish, however, that it had been done less treacherously; but for this attempt on my own life you shall hang, and that instantly, by San Juan of Merida! as a warning to all low-born knaves to beware ere they draw their weapons on a noble hidalgo. Diego de la Zarza, Pedro Gomez! bring hither a horse-halter, some of you," cried he to the astonished troopers who crowded round. "Run this fellow up to the roof. Santos! do you hear?"

He had scarcely spoken before Pedro Gomez cast his horse's halter over the neck of a gigantic stone angel, whose extended wings, carved on a corbelled stone, supported one of the oak beams of the roof, and prepared with ready hands a noose with a slip-knot to encircle the neck of Narvaez, who beheld these summary preparations with considerable trepidation; and he would soon have swung a corse, but for the interference of the three British officers, who, natives of a clime where the passions are less violent than in Spain, revolted at the idea of so sudden an execution.

"Stay, Don Alvaro, and put off his exit until to-morrow," said Campbell. "I do not admire such quick dispatch, although I have seen a Turk's head fly off like a thistle's top, when I was in Egypt with Sir Ralph."

"It would be losing time in the morning, as we march by day-break," replied the Don; "but worthless as the villain is, I may alter my decree if he gives me the name of his base employer."

"The husband of her whom you serenaded this night in the Calle de San Juan," answered Narvaez in a guttural tone.

"What! the guerilla chief, Don Salvador Xavier de Zagala?" cried Alvaro furiously, his eyes flashing tire. "Base coward! ignoble hidalgo! But my sword shall reach him ere long, if he is to be found on this side of the Pyrenees,--it shall, by the bones of the Cid! Your five rascal comrades were guerillas of his band, thought I knew the scarlet caps of the vagabonds."

"Noble cavalier! do not forget your promise," said Narvaez supplicatingly. "What is now your decree?"

"That you shall be shot in the morning instead of being hanged to-night! Sargento Gomez, see this carried into execution punctually, before the trumpets sound 'to horse,' as you value your life."

With all the indifference that he assumed at first, Cifuentes was a coward at heart, and piteous were the entreaties he made for mercy, and the promises he gave of reformation for the future, if the cavalier would spare his life; but they were unheeded. The dragoons thrust him into a narrow dormitory adjoining the chapel, and a sentinel, with his carbine loaded, was placed at the door.

"Send for the Padre, Alvarez; and let him make his peace with Heaven."

"Noble senor, it will be difficult to find the reverend Padre in his sober senses at this hour," replied Gomez.

"You are right, Pedro; he has no longer the Holy Inquisition, of terrible memory, to scare him from his cups. This fellow may die easily enough, without the help of Latin. Should he make the slightest attempt to escape, remember, Diego de la Zarza, to shoot him dead without fail. And now, senors, let us retire and leave my troopers to repose, as we must be all in our saddles at crow of the cock."

"What will be done with the fellow who lies dead in the street?" asked Ronald, as they stumbled down the dark alley leading from the convent.

"What could we do with him, senor?" replied the don with surprise. "The carcase will be found in the morning, and the finder will bury it for the sake of the clothes, perhaps. To find a man stabbed in the street is no marvellous matter in our Spanish towns. You saw how little notice the clash of our swords attracted: scarcely a window opened, and no person approached. We take these affairs coolly here, senor."

"So it seems, Don Alvaro," said the major. "But there is the clock of the town-house striking the hour of eleven, and we have a weary route before us in the morning; so the sooner we seek some place to roost in the better. I left Colonel Cameron and the rest of ours preparing for repose, under the bieldy side of a granite craig,--but I fear you don't understand me,--at the confounded bivouac yonder; and the sooner we join them, the longer rest we shall have."

"You shall have no bivouacking to-night, senors. One gets quite enough of it in these times; and when a good billet comes in the way, it should be accepted. I reside in Merida; my family mansion is at the corner of the Plaza: you shall pass the night with me there. My sister, Donna Catalina, will be most happy to entertain the preservers of her brother,--three cavaliers who draw their swords for the freedom of Spain."

"Certainly, Don Alvaro, we should be sorry to slight your offer," said the major. "A comfortable quarter is a scarce matter in Spain just now; and if Donna Catalina will not be incommoded by three soldados billeting themselves upon her mansion without notice, we are very much at your service. When I was in Egypt in 1801, I remember an adventure just such as--"

"Take care of the curb, major," cried Ronald as the bulky field-officer tripped against the side of the pavement.

"Just such as this. We were quartered at--"

"Grand Cairo," interrupted Ronald ruthlessly, for he disliked the repetition of long stories, which was a failing of the worthy major's, who lugged in Egypt and Sir Ralph Abercrombie on all occasions. "Ay, I remember the story, and a capital one it is! But here is Don Alvaro's house."

As he spoke, they halted before a large mansion, ornamented with lofty columns and broad balconies, upon which the tall windows opened: through the curtains bright rays of light streamed into the dark street. Alvaro applied his hand to the large knocker hanging on the entrance door, which appeared more like the portal of a prison than that of an hidalgo's residence, being low, arched, and studded with iron nails.

"_Quien es?_" said a voice within.

"_Gente de paz!_" replied Alvaro, while the light from the passage flashed through a little panel which was drawn aside, and through which they were cautiously scrutinized.

The door was immediately opened by an aged and wrinkled female servant, whose bright black eyes contrasted strangely with her skin, which was shrivelled and yellow as an old drum-head. Old Dame Agnes, lamp in hand, led them along a passage, up a broad wooden staircase, and into a noble and spacious apartment, which displayed the usual combination of elegance and discomfort, so common in the houses of Spanish nobles. The ceiling presented beautifully painted panels, and a gorgeous cornice of gilt stucco, supported by pilasters of the Corinthian order; while the floor from which they rose was composed of large square red tiles. Four large casements looked towards the Plaza; they were glazed with glass,--a luxury in Spain, but their shutters were rough deal boards, which were barely concealed by the rich white curtains overhanging them: the furniture was oak,--massive, clumsy, and old as the days of Don Quixote. Upon the panels of the ceiling, the bases of the pillars, and other places, appeared the blazonry of coats armorial, displaying the alliances of the family of Villa Franca.

On the table, beside a guitar, castanets, music books, &c., stood a large silver candelabrum, bearing four tall candles, the flames of which flickered in the currents of air flowing through many a chink and cranny, as if to remind the three British officers that it was at home only that true comfort was to be found. Heat was diffused through the room by means of a pan of glowing charcoal placed in the centre of the floor, and a lady, who sat with her feet resting upon it in the Spanish manner, rose at their entrance.

*CHAPTER IX.*

*DONNA CATALINA.*

"Down from her head the long fair tresses flow,
And sport with lovely negligence below.
The waving ribands, which her buskins tie,
Her snowy skin with waving purple dye;
As crimson veils, in palaces displayed,
To the white marble lend a blushing shade."
_Ovid's Metamorphoses_.

As she stood erect, her velvet mantilla fell from her white shoulders, displaying a round and exquisitely moulded form, tall and full, yet light and graceful. The noble contour of her head, and the delicate outline of her features, were shown by the removal of her black lace veil, which she threw back, permitting it to hang sweeping down behind, giving her that stately and dignified air so common to the Spanish ladies, but of which our own are so deficient, owing, probably, to the extreme stiffness of their head-dress. Her skin was fair, exceedingly so for a Spaniard; but the glossy curls of the deepest black falling on her neck, rendered it yet more so by contrast. Her crimson lips and the fine form of her nostrils, her white transparent brow and full dark eyes, shining with inexpressible brilliance, struck the three Scots mute with surprise,--almost with awe. So showy a beauty had not met their gaze since their departure from Edinburgh, and even Ronald, while keeping his hand within the breast of his coat upon the miniature of Alice, felt his heart beneath it strangely moved at the sight of the fair Spaniard.

"Don Alvaro, I think you might have spent with me the only night you have been in Merida for this year past," said the young lady, pouting prettily.

"Nay, my dear Catalina, you must not receive us thus," replied her brother in Spanish, her knowledge of English being very slight. "Allow me to introduce three British officers, to whom I am indebted for the preservation of my life, which six bravoes, employed by old Salvador de Zagala put in imminent peril to-night."

"Ah! you have been at your old affair,--you have been visiting the Calle de San Juan. How often have I warned you! Well, and the bravoes?"

"One has been sent to purgatory to-night, and another shall be sent somewhere else by daybreak." On Catalina hearing the story, she thanked, in broken English, but in a voice of thrilling earnestness, the three wearied soldados, who had seated themselves on the large old-fashioned chairs, the crimson leather and gilding of which showed them to be the work of the previous century.

"You must excuse, senors," said Catalina, "the very poor fare I have to present you with. The French ladrones carried off almost every thing with them this morning, and Merida will not soon forget their visit."

"Our fare, thanks to the lazy commissariat department, has been so hard of late, that almost any thing will pass muster with us," replied Ronald; "but here are dishes enough for a whole troop." While he spoke, the oak table was laid in a twinkling with a variety of covers; of which they could scarcely taste any, owing to the garlic and olive oil with which the Spaniards, as well as the Portuguese, always season and cook up their victuals.

"You do not seem to relish the pigeon, senor mio," said Donna Catalina to the major, who was making wry faces at every mouthful he took. "Try the piece of cold roasted meat on the cover near you."

"I thank you," answered Campbell, helping himself largely. "It would be excellent to my taste, was it not for the olive oil and spices, not used in our country, with which it is seasoned."

A hash and ragout were likewise attempted, but in vain; the garlic with which they were dressed rendered it impossible for the three strangers to taste them, but it was equally impossible to be displeased: the polite apologies and regrets of the cavalier, and the condescending sweetness of his beautiful sister, made ample amends. But the three hungry Scots were very well pleased to see the first course replaced by the second, which consisted of white Spanish bread of the purest flour, dried grapes, and several large crystal jugs of the purple country wine, sherry, and Malaga.

"You British are rather more fastidious than our Portuguese friends and allies," said Alvaro laughing. "The last time the 6th Cacadores lay quartered here, they left not a single cat uneaten,--a loss still remembered with peculiar animosity by the housewives of Merida. The Portuguese are not over nice in any thing, certainly, and we have a proverb among us, 'that a bad Spaniard makes a good Portuguese.'"

"Sir, when I am sharp-set, I am not very apt to be particular myself," replied Campbell. "When I was in Egypt with Sir Ralph, on one occasion I ate a very juicy steak cut from a horse's flank, and fried in a camp-kettle lid. We were starving for want of rations, senor; and, I dare say, even the holy camel on its way to Mecca, had it passed our route, would have been gobbled up, hump and all."

Ronald, who had hitherto sat almost silent, began to dread a long Egyptian story from the major; but this fear was removed by Don Alvaro's filling up his horn, and drinking to the health of Lord Wellington and the British forces,--the deliverers of Spain and Ferdinand the Seventh.

After this complimentary toast had been duly honoured, "A bumper, gentlemen!" exclaimed the major; "fill up your glasses--regular brimmers, and they must be drunk off with true Highland honours. _A la libertad de Espana!_ hurrah!" and, springing up erect with native agility, the three Scots, placing their left feet on their seats and their right on the table, (a movement which considerably surprised the grave don and his sister, who trembled for her crimson chairs), they flourished their glasses aloft, and drank to the toast with what are called _Highland honours_.

"_Viva! viva!_" cried the cavalier, in applause of the sentiment, though rather puzzled at the mode of proclaiming it.

They drank to their fair hostess, and to all sorts of gallant and martial toasts; and, as the wine-horns were filled and emptied again and again, they grew more merry, the national gravity of the don disappearing gradually as their conviviality increased. He laughed and sung with the frankness of a soldier, and trolled forth more than once the "Song of five hundred Horse," a Spanish military carol. At Ronald's request, Catalina took her guitar from the back of her chair where it hung, and, without requiring the entreaties necessary to obtain the same favour from a British lady, the frank girl sung with a coquettish air, which peculiarly became her, "My Mother wants no Soldiers here," a song well known in Spain at the time our troops were campaigning there.

"She seems bent on making a conquest of you, Alister," whispered Ronald.

"Of yourself, rather," retorted the other coldly. Indeed Macdonald had said but little all night; his mind was continually wandering to the recent fray, and the remembrance that he had for the first time slain a fellow-being,--a reflection which troubled him very little, truly, a few weeks afterwards, when he had become used to that sort of work. "Of yourself rather, Stuart. Her eyes are ever on you, and--"

"Hush! she hears us," replied the other hurriedly, his cheek reddening, yet more with mental shame than anger. "O Alice Lisle!" thought he, "this Spaniard, beautiful as she is, cannot surely be teaching me to forget you so soon. Her eyes are blacker than those of Alice, certainly, but they are less soft and feminine,--less gentle in expression; yet--" Here he was interrupted by the loud and sonorous voice of Campbell, who, at the request of Catalina, was commencing a song.

Ronald was rapidly becoming so confused with the effects of the wine he had taken, that he knew not whether it was Alice Lisle or Donna Catalina who sat beside him; but having a vague idea that it was some beautiful female, before the major's song was ended he was making downright love, which the lady took in very good humour.

Campbell's song, the

"Piobracht au Donuil-dhu,"

although it roused the hearts of his countrymen by its martial and forcible language, was listened to with a grave and pleasant smile by Don Alvaro, who of course comprehended not one word of the ditty, which in his ears sounded as a most barbarous jargon, and might have been a Moorish battle song for aught that he knew to the contrary.

The retiring of Donna Catalina did not put an end to the carousal; and, as they had to leave Merida an hour before day-break, they betook themselves to rest, (after every jug of wine had been discussed,) on the chairs, as it was useless to go to bed for an hour or two only. The short time they passed in slumber flew quickly, and they were soon roused by the din of the flying-artillery guns, as they swept over the causewayed streets, driven at a hard trot towards the bridge of Merida.

"_Caramba_! Rouse, senors," cried Alvaro, who was the first to awake.

"_Carajo_! Ay, there go the field-pieces: old Rowland's in his saddle already," muttered the major, scrambling up from the floor on which he had rolled in the night time, and placing his large bonnet on the wrong way, permitting the long feathers to stream down his back. "Rouse, gentlemen! Up and be doing, sirs, or we shall be missed from our posts. Old Mahoud take the rule for marching before day-break! Sir Ralph never made us do so in Egypt, and we gained laurels there, gentlemen--I say we did. This infernal bonnet! 'tis always falling off."

"I wish to Heaven I could sleep an hour longer!" said Ronald. "I have scarcely had three hours' sleep this week past."

"Our brigade never sleep, gentlemen," cried Campbell, who was still a little inebriated, "never! We march all night, and fight all day: we used to reverse the matter in Egypt. But what have we here? Peter Forbes--or what is your name, what's the matter? Are Dombrouski's dragoons among ye?"

"_Ave Maria! O Dios mio! O Senor Don Alvaro!_" cried Sargento Pedro Gomez, appearing at the entrance of the room with a lamp in his hand; "we have had the devil among us last night!"

"How so, fellow? What has happened?"

"The bravo has escaped--"

"How! Diavolo, escaped?"

"Ay, noble senor, and carried off the carbine of poor Diego de la Zarza, whom we found lying within the chamber with his throat cut from ear to ear."

The cavalier ground his teeth with absolute fury, while his olive cheek grew black with rising passion.

"_Santos! Santissimus!_" cried he; "would to San Juan, and all the calendar, I had hanged him last night! My brave Diego--but he must have slept; if so, he deserves his fate. Well, there is no help for this matter; we will give Narvaez Cifuentes a short prayer and a long stab the next time we meet, and that without delay. But we must be off; the cavalry advance-guard, and part of the artillery, have already passed. Let the _trompetero_ sound 'to horse;' and hasten, Pedro, and get the troop into their saddles. Though we belong to the division of Murillo, we will cross the bridge with you to-day, senors, and strike a blow for honour. _Viva Eapana y buena Esperanza_! 'Tis a better war-shout than the _Vive l'Empereur_ of the followers of the perfidious Buonaparte."

"There are the drums of our brigade," said Ronald Stuart; "and should we be missed by Fassifern, the excellency of Don Alvaro's purple Malaga and sherry, or even the smiles of Donna Catalina herself, would form but a poor excuse for lingering. Hark! the _generale_."

"You improve in the art of gallantry," observed Macdonald; "you could not have turned such fine speeches the morning we halted in the Black Horse-square, at Lisbon. But I regret that we must march without bidding adieu to our fair _patrona_."

"Forward, cavaliers; Catalina will excuse our departing without bidding her farewell. Down the stair-case to the left, senors," cried Alvaro. "Pedro Gomez, knave,--light the way!" and they pressed forward into the street, feeling the chill air of the morning blow strangely on their faces, while their heads swam with the fumes of the wine taken so lately.

"It will be long ere I forget the night we spent in Merida," said Macdonald.

"And long ere I do so, truly," replied Stuart, casting his eyes vacantly over the dark windows of the mansion of Villa Franca.

"Ah!--Donna Catalina; are you looking for her?"

"Such strange scenes of fray and other matters! Had such a row occurred at home, all Britain would have rung with it, from Dover to Cape Wrath; but here it is as nothing."

"Hark! what is that, Stuart?"

"A cry,--by Heaven, a most appalling one!" A loud shriek arose from amid the darkness in which the Plaza was involved. They hastened to that part of the square from whence it appeared to issue, and found that the conflict in which they had borne so conspicuous a part was not the only outrage committed that night in Merida. They discovered a young Portuguese lad, the private servant of Lieutenant-colonel Macdonald of the Gordon Highlanders, lying dead under the piazzas, stabbed to the heart with a long stiletto or knife, and the assassin was never discovered.

For some hours the dark streets of the city rang to the measured tramp of marching soldiers, the clatter of accoutrements, the clang of hoofs, and the rumble of heavy wheels, as artillery, cavalry, and infantry moved rapidly forward; but by sunrise the whole division had crossed the bridge, and on the opposite side of the river pursued their route towards Almendralejo.

"Colonel Cameron!" cried old W----, the brigade-major, cantering up to the head of the column; "Major-general Howard requests that you will increase your front. It is Sir Rowland's order."

"Form sub-divisions!" cried Fassifern, in the loud and manly tone of authority which so well became him. "Rear sections, left oblique--double quick!" The order was obeyed along the whole column by each regiment in succession. Their fine brass bands filled the air with martial music, causing every heart to vibrate to the sharp sound of the soul-stirring trumpet, the cymbals, and trombone. The horses shook their manes,--their riders sat more erect; the waving colours were flung forward on the breeze above the steel ridges of glittering bayonets, and the brave hearts of those who marched beneath them grew light and animated at the prospect of a brush with the enemy. Their starving condition, their faded uniform, the discomfort of the last night's bivouac, were forgotten,--all was military, gay and exciting to the utmost, filling every bosom with the pride of the profession and the fervent "glow of chivalry." Sir Rowland Hill, with his staff, viewed from a little eminence the whole length of the column of that division of the army under his command, as they passed, and a pleasing smile animated the benevolent features of the bluff old general, when he beheld the willingness with which the foot-sore and almost shoe-less soldiers pressed forward, although they had endured all that could render troops, less persevering and disciplined, less hardy and less brave, mutinous.

Toilsome forced marches--shelterless bivouacs, starvation, receiving no provisions sometimes for three consecutive days,--no clothing, and almost ever in arrears of pay--on one occasion for six months,--nothing but the hope of a change, and the redoubtable spirit which animated them, could have supported the British soldiers under the accumulation of miseries suffered by them in the Peninsula,--miseries which were lessened to the French troops, by their living at free quarters wherever they went.

These things, however, were forgotten for the present time, and with others Ronald Stuart felt all the ardour which the display before him and the fineness of the morning were calculated to inspire. The bright sun shone from an unclouded sky, filling the clear blue vault with warmth; the birds were chirping and hopping merrily among the dewy branches of the olive thickets and dark laurel bushes overhanging the broad path, the deep dingles on each side of which echoed to the notes of the sounding music.

Ronald looked back to the flat-roofed mansions and Roman ruins of Merida, on the grey walls of which, casting bold shadows, streamed the full splendour of the morning sun. The cavalry rearguard were slowly crossing the ancient bridge, and with the red coats came the brown uniform of Spain: it was the troop of Don Alvaro advancing, with their polished helmets and tall lances flashing in the sun, and finding a sparkling reflection in the deep blue current of the Guadiana below.

Ronald carried for the first time the regimental colour, which bore evident marks of service, being pierced in many places by musket-shot. It was a laborious affair to sustain, especially during a breeze, being large, and of rich yellow silk, fringed round with bullion. The sphinx,--the badge of Egypt, (the pride of the major's heart,) surrounded by a wreath of the brave old thistle, and the honourable mottoes '_Egmont-op-Zee_,' '_Mandora_,' and '_Bergen-op-Zoom_,'[*] all sewn, as usual, by fair hands, and done in massive gold embroidery, appeared in the centre of the standard, which the Duchess of Gordon had presented to the clan-regiment of her son.

[*] Such, with many additions, are still the badges of the Gordon Highlanders. For the information of unmilitary readers I may state, that every corps has two colours,--a king's and regimental; the first carried by the senior, and the latter by the junior ensign.

"Stuart, I see you are casting longing looks back to Merida," said Alister in his usual jesting manner, as he marched by Ronald's side with the gaudy king's colour sloped on his shoulder. "There is some attraction in our rear, I perceive; you are ever looking that way."

"Ay, yonder comes Don Alvaro and his troop of lances; how gallant they appear! But they are almost hidden in the dust raised by the rear of the column."

"Look above the colours of the 71st, and you will see the roof which contains the fair Catalina; it was for that you were searching so narrowly. I can read your thoughts, you see, without being a conjuror. Stuart, my boy, you are very green in these matters, otherwise you would not blush as scarlet as your coat, which, by the by, is rapidly becoming purple."

"What stuff you talk, Macdonald! What is Catalina to me?"

"Pshaw! now you need not bristle up so fiercely. Were you not making downright love to her last night? And the don himself would have seen it, but had drunk too much Malaga."

"Impossible, Alister! You must dream, or this is some of your usual nonsense. I have no recollection of speaking to Donna Catalina otherwise than I would have done to any lady,--and Campbell heard me."

"The major had over much sherry under his belt, and made too much noise about Egypt,--the pyramids,--Pompey's pillar,--the battle of Alexandria, and Heaven knows all what, to hear any one speaking but himself. We spent the night in glorious style, however; but the taste of that horrible garlic----Heavens above! what is this?"

Alister's sudden exclamation was not given without sufficient reason.

A carbine flashed from among the dark evergreens which overhung the road, and Ronald Stuart, staggering backwards, fell prostrate and bleeding at the feet of his comrades, from whom burst a wild shout of rage and surprise; but the strictness of British discipline prevented any man from moving in search of the assassin.

"Hell's fury!" cried Colonel Cameron, spurring his horse to the spot, while his eyes shot fire. "Search the bushes; forward, men! Do not fire, in case of alarming the rear of the column; but fix bayonets,--slay, hew, and cut to pieces whoever you find."

With mingled curses and shouts a hundred Highlanders dashed through the thicket; but their heavy knapsacks and the tall plumes of their bonnets impeded their movements in piercing the twisted and tangled branches of the thickly-leaved laurels. They searched the grove through and through, beating the bushes in every direction; but no trace of the assassin was found, save a broad-brimmed _sombrero_ bearing the figure of the Virgin stamped in pewter, fastened to the band encircling it, which Alister Macdonald found near a gigantic laurel bush, in the midst of the umbrageous branches of which its owner lurked unseen.

"It is the hat of Cifuentes,--the vagabond of our last night's adventure," said Alister, hewing a passage through the bushes with his sword, and regaining the regiment.

"I would you had brought his head rather. O that it was within the reach of my trusty stick! I would scorn to wet Andrea with his base blood." A frown of rage contracted the broad brow of Campbell while he spoke, holding in one hand a steel Highland pistol, which he had drawn from his holsters for the purpose of executing dire vengeance had opportunity offered.

"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 caeteras: 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."