Chapter V: Part 5

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! Espana! Espana 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 AEneas 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 CONDE.*

"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 Conde 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 Espana! 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 conde, leaning against the third column from Pizarro's monument."

"Here at church--the Conde 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 conde 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 Conde Penne Villamur, to Don Carlos d'Espana, 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 conde."

"He is a thoughtless brother, truly," replied the conde, 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 conde 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, conde; 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, conde! 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."