The Romance of War; or, The Highlanders in Spain, Volume 3 (of 3)

THE ROMANCE OF WAR:

OR,

THE HIGHLANDERS IN SPAIN

BY

JAMES GRANT, ESQ.

Late 62nd Regiment.

"In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome,
From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come;
Our loud-sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain,
And our hearts still the old Scottish valour retain."
Lt.-Gen. Erskine.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1846.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY MAURICE AND CO., HOWFORD BUILDINGS,
FENCHURCH STREET.

CONTENTS

Chapter

1. [Hostilities—A Love Letter]
2. [The Ball.—The Bull-Fight.—An Adventure]
3. [The Skirmish of Fuente Duenna. The Leaguer of Alba de Tormes]
4. [Angus Mackie]
5. [An Adventure. A Highland Legend]
6. [A Battle]
7. [An Out-Picquet Adventure]
8. [Pass of Maya.—Pyrenees]
9. [The Block-house. Mina]
10. [The Châtelet]
11. [Passage of the Nive]

THE ROMANCE OF WAR.

CHAPTER I.

HOSTILITIES—A LOVE LETTER.

"Were not my right hand fetter'd by the thought,

That slaying thee were but a double guilt

In which to steep my soul, no bridegroom ever

Stepp'd forth to trip a measure with his bride

More joyfully than I, young man, would rush

To meet thy challenge."

Macduff's Cross, p. 26.

Boiling with rage at Louis's insulting defiance, Ronald returned to his quarters in the Alcanzar, determined at day-break to summon him forth, to fight or apologize. He often repeated the words, "Her heart has never wandered from you." Ah! if this should indeed be the case, and that Alice loved him after all! But from Louis, his honour demanded a full explanation and ample apology, either of which he feared the proud spirit of the other would never stoop to grant. Yet, to level a deadly weapon against the brother of Alice,—against him to whom he had been a constant friend and companion in childhood and maturer youth, and perhaps by a single shot to destroy him, the hopes and the peace of his amiable father and sister, he felt that should this happen, he never could forgive himself. But there was no alternative: it was death or dishonour.

Two ways lay before him,—to fight or not to fight; and his sense of injured honour made him, without hesitation, choose the first, and he waited in no ordinary anxiety for the dawn, when Alister Macdonald, who was absent on duty, would return to the quarters of the regiment.

Next morning, when the grey daylight was beginning faintly to show the dark courts and gloomy arcades of the Alcanzar, he sprung from his couch, which had been nothing else than his cloak laid on the polished floor tiles; and undergoing a hasty toilette, he was about to set forth in search of Macdonald, when Lieutenant Chisholm, one of the officers, entered.

"What! up already, Stuart?" said he; "I hope you are not on any duty?"

"No. Why?"

"Because Lisle has asked me to wait upon you."

"Upon me?" asked Ronald, with a frown of surprise. "Upon me, Chisholm?"

"Yes: of course you will remember what occurred in the cathedral last night?"

"How could I ever forget? Mr. Lisle, under its roof, insulted me most grossly," replied Ronald, his lips growing white with anger. "I was just about to seek Macdonald to give him a message, but Mr. Lisle has anticipated me."

"For Heaven's sake, Stuart, let us endeavour to settle this matter amicably! Think of the remorse which an honourable survivor must always feel. A hundred men slain in action are nothing to one life lost in a duel."

"Address these words to your principal,—they are lost on me; but you are an excellent fellow, Chisholm!"

"It is long since we have had an affair of this sort among us, and Cameron is quite averse to this mode of settling disputes."

"I shall not consult his opinion, or that of any other man, in defence of my own honour," said Ronald haughtily.

"As you please," replied the other, with an air of pique. "Lisle and you have long been on very distant terms, and the officers have always predicted that the matter would terminate in this way."

"Curse their impertinent curiosity! And so Lisle calls me out in consequence of the high words we exchanged in the cathedral last night?"

"That is one reason—the least one, I believe. He mentioned that his sister, Miss Lisle—"

"Stay, Chisholm! I will hear no more of this," cried Stuart; then suddenly changing his mind added, "Ah! well; his sister—Miss Alice Lisle. Go on."

"Faith, Stuart, you seem confoundedly confused. Do settle this matter in peace. Lisle has told me the story, in confidence, and I think you have been to blame,—indeed you have. Send Lisle an apology, for I assure you he is boiling with passion, and will not yield a hair's breadth."

"Chisholm, then how in the devil's name can you suppose that I will?" exclaimed Ronald, his anger getting the better of his confusion. "Never, by Heaven! never will I apologize when I have suffered the indignity. He has challenged me, and fate must now decide. I will meet him."

"Well, then, time presses; we march at sunrise. Who is your friend?"

"Alister Macdonald, if he has returned; if not, I shall have Logan."

"Macdonald returned about midnight with some stragglers from Torrijos, and will not relish being disturbed so early."

"Never mind that; an hour's sleep less or more is scarcely to be considered when lives are in jeopardy. Where is the meeting place?"

"The bridge of Toledo. You will barely be in time. Six is the hour; it wants fifteen minutes of it by my watch."

"Well, you may leave me now."

Knowing it was needless to say any more about a reconciliation Chisholm departed; and Ronald, after buckling on his sword and dirk, stood for a few minutes holding his bonnet in his hand irresolutely, while he sunk into a reverie of deep and bitter reflections, of what his affectionate old sire and faithful dependants at Lochisla would feel should he die by the hand of Lisle, whose very name they regarded with so much jealousy and distrust. He also thought of Alice and Lord Lisle, what their sentiments would be if the reverse was the case, and the one lost a dear brother—the other a beloved son, who was the only heir and hope of an ancient house, and the successor to its title. He remembered also the words of Louis. Could it be that Alice might yet love him? But no; that was impossible! He threw his cloak around him, and rushed from the chamber to seek that of Macdonald, who was ready to attend him in a moment. Suddenly remembering that he had no pistols, he urned into an apartment occupied by Major Campbell, to request the loan of his.

It was a spacious and splendid room, with a ceiling twenty feet in height. A colonnade supported the roof, the carved beams of which stretched across from the gilded cornices on each side. The ceiling and walls were covered with frescoes, but the plaster and the once bright and gorgeous gilding were miserably faded and dilapidated by time and neglect. Rolled in his cloak, and coiled up in a corner of this vast and empty hall, the bulky frame of Campbell lay on the tessellated pavement, and no doubt he found it a bed somewhat cold and hard. His pillow was formed by his long Andrea and favourite rung, with a plaid rolled round them. His dirk and steel Highland pistols lay on one side of him, and an empty pigskin on the other. Very desolate indeed he appeared, lying in a corner of that huge apartment, which was totally destitute of furniture. Ronald shook him by the shoulder.

"If that is you, Serjeant Macildhui," said he, speaking very crossly beneath the cape of his cloak, "I must beg leave to inform you, that I have nothing to do now with No. 1 company. I am done with all that sort of dirty work, as you will see by the last Gazette. Apply to Mr. Kennedy, and take yourself off till the drum beats. I wish the infernal Horse Guards would order six halting days every week, instead of only Sunday and Thursday."

"Look up, major! 'Tis I—Stuart."

"What is the matter?" cried the other, bolting up, and showing that the contents of the borachio skin were operating still on his brain; "what is the matter now? It is very hard that a field-officer, and one too that has seen the fields of Alexandria, Egmont-op-Zee, and the onslaught of Copenhagen, should be so pestered by subalterns. How this hard bed makes my bones ache! I have slept softer on the hot yellow sand in Egypt. They tell me this was the bed-room of Don Alfonso the First, king of Castile. Devil mend him! I suppose he did not sleep on the pavement with a claymore for a pillow, like Colin Campbell of Craigfianteoch, in Lorne, a better man—for what is any Castilian don when compared to a duine-wassal of Argyle?" The major snapped his fingers, and it was evident he was very tipsy. "But what do you want, Ronald, my boy?" he added.

"The loan of your pistols, major, for ten minutes only. I have a very disagreeable affair to adjust this morning."

"I regret to hear it; but it is with none of ours, I hope, my knight of Santiago?"

"This is no time for jesting. 'Tis with a Portuguese of Colonel Campbell's brigade," said Ronald, colouring at the necessary falsehood.

"Pah! only a Portuguese,—a dirty garlic-eating devil. There are the pistols; and remember, always level low, and fire the instant the word is given. I hope your arm is steady. A little hartshorn-water or Eau de Cologne are excellent things to rub it with. I am sorry I never keep any of these things about me: Egypt cured me of them. Take Stewart the assistant-surgeon with you, and come back when the tulzie is over, and give me an account of it."

"You forget, major. I may never come back."

"And your opponent a Portuguese! Who is your second?"

"Macdonald,—Macdonald of Inchkenneth. These pistols are very handsome," observed Ronald, with affected carelessness, as he examined the stones with which they were studded, and surveyed the flints and locks.

"Ah! they are indeed handsome. My grandfather took them out of the Duke of Douglas's belt, after he had unhorsed him at Shirramuir. They did some execution at Culloden, too."

"On the right side, of course?"

"Yes; in the army of the Prince. Use this one, with the cairn-gorum on the butt. The other throws high, and you would need to level to the boot to hit the belt. It happened so with me at Grand Cairo, when firing at a Turkish thief. I aimed at his sash, and the ball knocked off his turban. I would tell you all the story, but there is no time. I have no fear of you; so be off, my lad. God bless you! and steady your hand. Do not let it be said that a Portuguese gained and kept the ground before a Scotsman, and one of the Gordon Highlanders."

At the gate of the Alcanzar he met Macdonald, and wrapping themselves up in their cloaks, as the morning air was cold and chilly, they hurried towards the bridge of Toledo. The streets appeared gloomy and dull in the grey light of the morning; and save their own foot-falls, no other sound broke the silence. The most public places were absolutely deserted. The shops under the piazzas of the Plaza, the stalls in the market-place, the cafés and tabernas were still all closed. Two or three halberdiers stood at the gate of El Medico's residence, and these were all they met, save a cloaked cavalier, who by a ladder of ropes suddenly descended from the window into the street, and disappeared.

On reaching the bridge which spans the Tagus, immediately beneath the cannon and battlements of the city, they found Lisle and Chisholm awaiting them. A pistol-case lay on the parapet over which they were leaning, watching the smooth waters of the river as they hurried on between rocky ledges, banks overhung with foliage, and willow trees that flourished amidst the stream. A thick white mist was beginning to curl up from the bed of the river, exhaled by the increasing heat of the morning sun, whose rays were tinging the east with red, and the cross on the beautiful spire of the cathedral, from one of the towers of which waved a broad and crimson banner, bearing the arms of Toledo—the imperial crown of Spain.

"A very disagreeable business this, Macdonald," whispered Chisholm, as he took the arm of the other, and led him aside to the parapet of the bridge, where they communed for a few seconds, leaving the principals, awkwardly enough, to stare at each other or admire the scenery, which ever they chose.

Another attempt at an amicable arrangement was made, but without success; both parties were too much exasperated to yield in the least degree. "Once more I ask you, Stuart," said Chisholm, coming forward, "cannot this unhappy affair be adjusted without recourse to arms?"

"You are a good-hearted fellow, Chisholm, and I fully appreciate your good intentions, but your words are lost upon me; I refer you to Mr. Lisle for an answer. Mine was the insult, and any apology should therefore come from him."

"It shall not!" exclaimed Lisle bitterly; "I will rather die than apologize. Stuart, you shall fight me; and if not—"

"Lisle,—Lisle! your behaviour is very violent and most unjustifiable."

"I am the best judge, Mr. Macdonald. I fight in the cause of another, and not for myself," said Louis; and he turned haughtily on his heel, and again walked to the parapet.

"I am perfectly disposed to accept of an apology," observed Ronald to the seconds in a subdued voice; "but as one will not be given, on Lisle's own head will rest the guilt of the blood shed this morning. This quarrel has been of his own seeking, not mine. Heaven knows how loath I am to fight with him, but there is no alternative now. Measure the ground, and give us our weapons."

"Then, Macdonald," said Chisholm, "all hopes of an accommodation are at an end?"

"Quite: your principal is much to blame. But we must be expeditious,—see how red the horizon is; the drums will beat in ten minutes."

During the measuring of the ground and the loading of the pistols, Ronald fixed his eyes on the saffron east, where the sun was about to rise in all its splendour above the mountains of Castile. Appearing black between him and the glowing sky rose the grassy height, crowned by the black old ruins of the castle of San Servan, that fortress so famous in romance, where "Ruy, the Cid Campeador," was wont to spend the night in prayer and vigil. The sky was seen through its embrasured towers and empty windows, brightening in a blaze of glory all around, and giving promise of another day. Ronald gazed eastward wistfully. In ten minutes more the sun would be up, but by that time the eyes of either Lisle or himself might be sealed for ever. Ronald pictured what would be the emotions of Alice if her brother was slain, because she loved him well. He thought of his father, too; and remembered painfully that he would almost exult, if young Lisle was slain in this contest.

His reverie was interrupted by Alister.

"All is ready,—Lisle has taken his ground," said he, putting into Ronald's hand the cold steel butt of the Highland pistol. "For Heaven's sake, or rather for your own, appear a little more collected. Lisle seems determined to shoot you, in revenge for your neglect of his sister."

"You have mentioned the only thing which can unnerve and unman me. Chisholm has told you, I suppose?"

"Yes. An explanation might yet clear up this business."

"I scorn to ask it now!"

"Are you ready?" cried Chisholm, who had posted Lisle fourteen paces off.

"All ready."

"Stand aside, Macdonald. I believe that I must give the word."

"As you please." Alister retired, but, like Chisholm's, his heart was filled with a painful feeling of suspense and dread.

The fatal word was given, and the report of both pistols instantaneously followed. Ronald fired into the air, but reeled backwards a few paces, and sunk on the road-way. Louis's stern look immediately relaxed, and he rushed towards him, tossing wildly away the other pistol.

"Heaven be merciful and look down on me, I have killed him! O Stuart, Ronald Stuart! speak to me," and he knelt over him with all the remorse that a brave and generous heart is capable of feeling, after the gust of passion has passed away.

"The ball has passed through his breast," whispered Macdonald in an agitated tone. "Unclasp the plaid, and open his coat. There is no blood; it must be flowing internally."

These observations, though made unintentionally, added greatly to the distress of Louis Lisle; but the unclasping of the shoulder-belt, the undoing of the sash, the plaid, and yellow riband of his gorget, aroused Ronald, who, to their great surprise, rose slowly to his feet.

"Why, what are you all about, unharnessing me thus? I am not wounded, but I have received a devil of a shock. By a perfect miracle I have been saved."

"One I shall ever bless!" said Lisle, pressing his hand.

"How is this?" exclaimed Chisholm in astonishment; "the ball has glanced off and torn your coat, as if you wore a corslet under it."

"By Jove! the miniature has saved him. He wears one: I used to quiz him about it at Merida," said Macdonald, as he pulled open the yellow lapel of the regimental coat, and displayed the little portrait hung around his neck by a chain. "You perceive that the silver case has turned the ball, which has become flattened against the parapet yonder. Such a very narrow escape!"

"The miniature! how comes this to pass?" asked Lisle. "Have you still preserved and worn it thus, notwithstanding your change of sentiments?"

"Listen to me, Lisle. I vow to you by Heaven and my honour, that my sentiments are yet unchanged: they are the same as in that hour when I first received this miniature from your own hand; and from that time until this I have continually worn it near my heart, preserving it carefully and preciously as any monk does here the piece of wood which he considers a part of the true cross. Never yet have I parted with this relic for a moment, although I own that I was on the point of destroying it when I first received intimation of the intended alliance between the Earl of Hyndford and your sister, Miss Lisle,—an alliance probably formed by this time."

"The Earl of Hyndford!" exclaimed Louis, in a tone of astonishment. "Has that accursed and silly report been the cause of our long alienation and quarrelling? Hyndford,—I had forgotten that affair altogether, or never supposed it could have reached you here in Spain. We have both been cruelly mistaken, but all will be happiness again. Give me your hand, Stuart, and we will be friends and brothers as of yore. Your heart is still unchanged, and I pledge you my honour that the affections of Alice are yours as much as ever. But this hostile meeting must be concealed from her, otherwise we should never be forgiven. Our seconds will never speak of the matter; their honour is a sufficient warrant for their secrecy."

Further conversation, and the congratulations of Chisholm and Macdonald, were cut short by the drums beating, and they were all compelled to hurry off. Lisle took the arm of Ronald, and they went towards the muster-place by a different route from that pursued by their seconds, so that they might freely converse and give scope to their thoughts. A most agreeable revulsion of feeling had taken place in their minds.

"O Ronald Stuart! I have been much to blame in this business," said Lisle, "much to blame indeed. And can you forgive me?"

"Freely, Louis," replied the other, pressing his hand. "I admire the spirit with which you have perilled life and limb for the cause of Alice. And so the dear girl is yet true?"

"True as the sun! But I was infuriated,—almost maddened by your seeming indifference. It now flashes upon my mind that you mentioned Lord Hyndford in our unlucky quarrel at La Nava. Until this hour I had forgotten that; and probably but for our mountain pride and Scottish stubbornness, we might have come to a satisfactory explanation twelve months ago. What a deal of bitter feeling the paragraph of that wretched newspaper has occasioned! But that is all at an end, and now, thank Heaven! we will no longer greet each other like hostile clansmen, with gloomy and averted eyes, as our sires did of yore. In all her letters to me Alice has deplored that for twelve months past you have broken off all correspondence with her,—indeed never having written once since you left Lochisla; and my excuses appear to have been very unsatisfactory to her."

"I feared that my letters might fall into Sir Allan's hands, and excite his displeasure. And afterwards our quarrel at La Nava appeared to confirm my suspicions—"

"Say no more of them. I have in my possession a letter from her to you. I was intrusted with it on leaving home; but so great was the irritation I felt from our meeting at La Nava, that instead of delivering it, it has lain in my baggage until this hour,—nearly a whole year."

"Cruel and foolish! Ah, Lisle! how could you be so vindictive? Doubtless it would have unravelled this matter."

"You know not by what indignant sentiments I was prompted. Pride hardened my heart, for I loved Alice dearly; but, Stuart, I have heard some strange stories whispered at our mess-table, in which your name was entwined with that of a certain Donna Catalina. You change countenance."

"Poor Villa Franca; she was indeed a very beautiful woman, and I will acknowledge that, jealous and irritated as I was at Alice's supposed desertion, I yielded greatly to the charms of the noble Spanish lady; but I swear to you, Louis, that Alice—Alice alone, is the only being, the only woman I have ever truly loved! How much I long to behold this letter, and read the words her white hand has traced, although so many months ago!"

"Gentlemen, the regiment has fallen in," said the serjeant-major, breathlessly overtaking the loiterers. "The adjutant sent me to look for you, Mr. Lisle. You are to carry the king's colour to-day, sir." They hurried off.

Ronald derived the most exquisite pleasure from this reconciliation with his old friend; and it was alone equalled by the delightful idea that Alice yet loved him, and was the same gentle, winning, and blooming creature as ever,—and would yet be his, when all the perils of campaigning were past. Eagerly he longed for an opportunity to write: and what a deal he had to tell her,—of love and war, of future happiness, and mutual tenderness!

The long-detained letter of Alice could not be procured from the depths of Lisle's baggage-trunks, until the halt at the ruinous little town of Villa Mayor. Although the march was only twelve miles, and lay along the left bank of the Tagus, among the most beautiful scenery,—wood and water, rocks and ruins, fields and vineyards,—it appeared to Ronald the longest and most wearisome he had ever performed. As soon as he received the letter from Louis, he rushed away to a secluded nook or bower of orange-trees, by the river side, and prepared to con it over in secret. He hastily kissed and broke the seal, which bore the crest of the Monteiths of Cairntowis, with the motto Keepe tryste. Ronald knew the signet ring of his mother, which he had given to Alice when he bade her adieu in the lawn before Inchavonhouse.

"Inchavon, Perthshire,

10th December, 1811.

"MY DEAREST RONALD,

"Louis has already sent you no less than three letters, addressed to the regiment via Edinburgh and Lisbon, but, alas! we have never yet received any answer, and I fear that none of them have reached you. I know not how the posts are arranged in Spain, but I am afraid that all our letters have miscarried, as you must have written Louis and me many by this time. This one I send in the care of my dear brother, who leaves us to-morrow to join your regiment. Ah! I shall be very lonely without him, and shall weep long and bitterly when he is gone. I shall have no one then to whom I can impart my thoughts, or speak of you; and my tears and anxiety will be redoubled, when you are both exposed to the dangers of war. Since you left Perthshire I have never heard of a victory without weeping, and I dare not read the lists of 'killed, wounded, and missing,' lest the name of one should be there,—one on whom my thoughts ever dwell as their dearest treasure. I cannot look at the paper, which a servant brings every morning from Perth on horseback, but I sit breathlessly, in fear and trembling watching the face of papa, as he reads them over at breakfast. O goodness guide me, Ronald! my anxiety and pain, lest his features should change, are indeed beyond description. How drearily the days have passed since you left us; and I generally spend them in wandering among the places you and Louis loved best. And—but enough of this: I must not make my letter a dismal one. Louis some time ago appeared at the Perth ball in the uniform of the Gordon Highlanders; and I assure you that all the young ladies were quite in love with him, fairly touched with the scarlet fever. He outshone the militia, yeomanry, and even the gay tartans of Highland gentlemen from the hills. How well a gay uniform looks in a ball-room! and such a flutter it creates in the hearts of the young ladies! I believe you soldiers would be very arrogant fellows, if you really knew what we think you. But, as Mrs. Centlivre says, 'There's something so jaunty in a soldier,—a kind of je ne sais quoi air, that makes them more agreeable than all the rest of mankind.' If this is the case, we are to be excused for being subdued by the gay epaulet.

"Lord Hyndford has been down here residing with us for some time past, enjoying the grouse-shooting with papa. He is a very nice old gentleman, with white hair and a purple face,—the last occasioned, I suppose, by his drinking so much of port; for every day after dinner he takes for his share a bottle of papa's own 'particular.' He has become very peculiar and marked in his attentions to me of late, (the idea of the thing!) and, dear Ronald, it would almost make you jealous, could you but see him hanging over me with a sentimental expression on his droll old face, when I am playing on the harp or piano. But I love to tease him, and always sing,

"He's coming frae the north that's to marry me,

He's coming frae the north that's to marry me;

A feather in his bonnet, and the kilt aboon his knee:

He's a bonnie Highland laddie,—but you are no he."

"Indeed he annoys me very much, as I cannot be troubled with his attentions, and you know I never flirt. In this affair, that which annoyed me most was a notice which appeared in a newspaper about his proposals to me. Such horrid prying creatures those news-people are! But the editor came here to Inchavon, and made so many apologies, that he got off free, although papa had threatened to horsewhip him. But I shall soon be rid of Hyndford, as the grouse-shooting ends to-day; and he must soon go to Edinburgh, to attend a meeting of Scots peers at Holyrood.

"Your father, poor man, must feel very lonely now without you, especially as he lives so far up the glen, in that dreary old tower, surrounded by heather hills, water, and rocks. I wish greatly that papa and he were good friends; but he is so very proud, and so very distant, that I see no chance of its ever coming about. Attended by my servant, Jessie Cavers, I rode up the glen one Sunday, and went to the old kirk of Lochisla to see him; and I declare that I could with pleasure have given him a kiss for your sake, Ronald, such a noble-looking old gentleman he is! He sat in his dark old oaken pew, with his white hairs glistening in the sun, which shone through the western window, and he often bowed down his head on his huge clasped bible. It was to pray for you he did so—I am sure it was, because I saw his lips move and his eyes brighten. He never looked once towards the pew of the Corrie-oich family, with whom I sat, and so I never encountered his glance; but his fierce-looking old piper, who stood behind him, accoutred with dirk and claymore, stared at me fixedly during the whole service.

"When the aged and venerable-looking old minister prayed, first in Gaelic and then in English, for the success and safety of the British army, my heart beat earnestly and responsive to the words which fell from his withered lips. Indeed you may be sure it did.

"Whether or not papa favours the attentions of the Earl of Hyndford I do not know; but he often speaks kindly of you, and I love to listen to him when he does so. He has not forgotten that dangerous ducking at Corrie-avon. Ah! what a day of terror that one was!

"I am very busy just now, working a pair of colours for the Greek Light Infantry, the regiment of my uncle Ludovick. They are of white silk, quite covered with embroidery and needle-work. I am heartily tired of them: but Louis's old flames, the Graemes of Corrie-oich, are living with us just now, and we ply our needles from day-dawn till sun-set like so many Penelopes, and the standards will soon be dancing in the breezes of the Ionian isles. When the Gordon Highlanders want a new pair of colours, you will know where to apply. With a thousand prayers for your safety, and a thousand more for your return, I must now conclude, as papa and Hyndford have just come from the moors, with six men laden with grouse-bags, and I must hurry down to the drawing-room. So believe me to be, my own dearest Ronald, yours ever,

ALICE LISLE."

"P.S. Do endeavour to send your next letters by some other way, as they must all have mis-carried. Try Cadiz, or Gibraltar,—but perhaps it is impossible. Jessie Cavers, my foster-sister, (who is at my side while I am writing,) begs you will remind her to her 'Jo and dearie O,' a young man named Evan Iverach, who belongs to your company; and tell him, that he is not forgotten by the heart he has left at hame." A.L.

"Alice, my own beloved Alice! and you are yet true!" exclaimed Stuart aloud, pressing the letter to his lips. "What a wretch and madman I have been to doubt you for a moment! How unworthy I am that you should condescend to write to me! Alas! oh, Alice, how much I have wronged you by my false and wicked suspicions of your truth and constancy. Ah! my own dear girl, my repentant heart turns to you more fondly by a thousand degrees than of yore." He drew forth her miniature to gaze upon it, and while doing so, let fall the letter.

"Upon my word, a most industrious creature!" said Louis Lisle, who had been standing by, as he picked it up. "She has given you no less than four closely written pages, of a very pretty lady-like and current little hand. I have been sitting beside you for this hour past, skimming stones along the surface of the Tagus,—not a very intellectual amusement. I did not wish to interrupt you, but I thought you would never come to a halt. How often have you read this letter over?"

"Three times."

"Thrice? See what it is to be in love!"

"O Louis! how humbled and mortified I am. What shall I say to Alice when I write to her? I dare not tell the truth,—and yet, by heavens! I cannot deceive her. Is there no alternative, but to wound her feelings by a whisper of my cursed suspicions?"

"Come, my old friend, I will endeavour to make your peace; and Alice, I believe, will not be very inexorable. I am billeted on the house of the Escrivan, or town-clerk of this place, Villa Mayor, and there we shall have writing materials in abundance. Let us set about our correspondence, and have our letters ready for Lisbon, to be despatched by the first orderly dragoon who rides to the rear."

CHAPTER II.

THE BALL.—THE BELL-FIGHT.—AN ADVENTURE.

"For she laid adown

——the hood and veil,

And frontlet of the cloister pale,

And Benedictine gown."

Marmion.

With every demonstration of joy Sir Rowland's division of the army were received by the good people of Aranjuez,[*] a very interesting town, which stands near the Tagus and Garama, about twenty-seven miles from Madrid, and twenty-one from Toledo. Aranjuez is surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills and green forests, and contains the celebrated summer residence of the kings of Spain; around which spread the royal gardens, justly considered the most beautiful and elegant in Europe. The town contains a Prado, or public promenade, four miles in length, which crosses the Tagus twice, by gaily-painted wooden bridges, before it loses itself among the orchards and fragrant orange thickets.

[*] Pronounced by the Spaniards Arunwhais.

The streets of the town are perfectly regular, even monotonously so, but richly ornamented on the outside with projecting cornices, pilasters, and balconies. There is a quietness, and an air of dignity and "calm repose," about Aranjuez, which is not often met with in Spain, but which marks it as being strictly the residence of people of rank and fortune. The town contains three churches, and an area for bull-fights. The Highlanders halted in the large square, which is paved with marble, and contains the splendid brass statue of Charles the Fifth. The Emperor is represented armed cap-a-pie, trampling down heresy in the form of four arch-heretics. The statue and pedestal were decorated with flowers—indeed all the streets were strewed with them—in honour of the occasion.

Wellington, who by this time had been created a Marquess, lay before Burgos, besieging the castle, and the surrender of its garrison was looked for daily.

As the second division expected to remain some weeks at Aranjuez, they were billeted as usual on the inhabitants; and the long arrears of pay having been received, they were enabled to make themselves tolerably comfortable. The officers of the Highlanders having so much loose cash on their hands, determined to get rid of it as soon as possible, by giving a splendid ball to the ladies of Aranjuez and the officers of the division.

A committee was appointed to arrange matters, despatch the invitations, and get the palace, which had been procured for the purpose, duly fitted up and decorated. In this princely and spacious building the Supreme Junta of the Spanish government were installed, and held their first meeting in 1808. Joseph Buonaparte occupied it previously to his retreat to Valencia, and a great quantity of his household stuffs, crystal, &c. were found in it, very opportunely, and seized by the committee to equip the supper tables. From Madrid some thousand variegated lamps were procured to illuminate the gardens and avenues leading to the palace, and nearly twelve hundred oil paintings, many of them by the best ancient and modern masters, were collected from different parts of the building, and hung up in the suites of apartments appropriated to the festivities. The troops entered on the 1st of October,—the ball was to be on the night of the twentieth, and of course all the unmarried ladies of Aranjuez were in a flutter,—nay, in fact, in a state of extreme excitement about the affair. The ball, the ball to be given by the Scottish officers, was the only subject discussed at the soirées, tertulias, and parties at the houses of the citizens: at the Prado, and in the cafés and tabernas in the town. The committee, which consisted of Captain Seaton, Macdonald, and Ronald Stuart, usually met every evening in the palace, to send off the invitations and discuss some of King Joseph's wine.

"I must send one of these to the young ladies of my billet," said Alister on one occasion, as they sat writing, folding, and sealing the cards at an open window, where they were luxuriating in the fragrant perfume of the gardens, smoking cigars, and sipping Volnais. "They are both young and pretty," continued Alister, "but sadly curbed in by an old maiden aunt, who regards them as very dangerous rivals."

"They are likely to prove so," said Seaton, the captain of the light company; "the girls have superb eyes and teeth. In this capital Volnais I drink to their healths, and that of the ex-king of Spain, to whom we are so much indebted for assisting us with our entertainment, by leaving his 'gudes and gear' behind him."

"Here is the name of the Condé de Truxillo," observed Macdonald, consulting the invitation-list. "Seaton, no notice appears as yet to have been sent him."

"A general invitation has been sent to the officers of his regiment. I inclosed it myself, but I have sworn to touch these matters no more. This Volnais obscured my faculties so much yesterday, that I enclosed cards to dons which were written to donnas, to dukes that were written to plain senores, and vice versa. I will leave these matters to you Mac, and Stuart my subaltern; while, as president of the committee, I will smoke my cigar and drink with you, so long as the Volnais lasts. A-propos,—push the decanters this way!"

"So the condé has left the staff," observed Stuart.

"He belongs now to the 4th Spanish infantry; they are with De Costa's brigade."

"Here is a card for Senores the four most worshipful alcaldes of Aranjuez."

"What is the use of asking these people to a ball?" said Seaton. "Nothing more than mechanical citizens, whose blowsy wives and daughters will be intruding themselves, bedizened in the dresses of the last century."

"It is impossible to pass them over, and vulgarity may be excused in a magistrate. Here are invitations for the 10th Portuguese, for the Catalonian Caçadores, the 39th and 66th British, and all the cavalry brigades. Now, then, for the ladies."

"God bless them!"

"Amen! Seaton. Donna Isabel de Campo and her four daughters. These people live near this, do they not?"

"No; in the marble square, three doors from the palace D'Alarino. Two of the light dragoons are quartered there, and a pleasant time they seem to have of it, as the five donnas spend the day in flirting, waltzing, or twanging the guitar and piano. And then mamma, although a little old and stale, is of a very gay disposition."

"A comprehensive phrase in Spain. You are a most gossiping fellow, Seaton. It is a marvel to me how you learn the history of people as you do. Don Felix Joaquin, knight of Calatrava,"[*] continued Alister, reading from the list.

[*] This order still exists, and is possessed of fifty-six commanderies, and sixteen priories in Spain.

"A base rogue," was Seaton's comment, "and one who kissed King Joseph's hand, the day before he fled to Valencia. You, as a true knight of Santiago, should certainly break his head for him, Stuart."

"Thank you: I shall not take the trouble. Read on, Macdonald."

"The very noble cavalier,—what a most unpronouncible name,—Don Zunasbul Ascasibur de Yñürritegui."

"A fellow as mad as Cuesta himself! Invite him, by all means."

"He is my patron," said Ronald, "a fine old fellow,—a true Spaniard of the old school; and, like Cuesta, sticks to the plumed beaver and slashed doublet of his grandfather's days. Who comes next?"

"Micer Astuto Rubio, and his lady."

"Pshaw!" said Seaton, "an abogado; in other words, a rogue. Astuto? ah, he is well named; that is Spanish for craft or chicanery, of which he has as much, I believe, as any Edinburgh W.S."

"Donna Elvira Moro, Calle Mayor. Any scandal about her, Seaton?"

"Plenty, and to spare. The town is full of strange stories about her and her escudero, or gentleman-usher, an office to which she suddenly raised him from being a moco de mulas.[*] His goodly proportions pleased the eye of the widow."

[*] A mule-driver.

"Scandal again! The Duke of Alba de T—— and his two daughters,—Donna Olivia and Donna Virginia."

"Three separate cards must be sent to them," said Stuart, inditing them while he spoke.

"The duke is supposed to be a traitor, and in the French interest."

"I assure you, Seaton, his daughters are not," replied Ronald, writing the while. "They are very beautiful girls, and Lisle is a lucky dog to have his billet in the palace of De T——. He is continually with them, either among the gardens, riding on the Prado, or flirting at home, I believe. The young senoras are never to be seen, either at church or la Posada de los Representes, without their most faithful cavalier and escudero, the Honourable Louis Lisle."

"The mess get very little of his company just now. He never appears among us but at parade; and when the word "dismiss" is given, he vanishes like a ghost at cock-crow. I wonder what the Duke thinks of the matter?"

"I believe, Alister, he never thinks of it at all," replied Seaton. "He is too proud to hold communication with any one, and sits in his library smoking Guadalaxara cigars and drinking sherry from dawn till sunset, keeping every one at an awful distance."

"But his daughters—"

"Are strictly watched by an old duenna. I got a complete history of the family from my old gossiping patron. It appears that when old Mahoud takes the duke to himself, the two girls will be immensely rich. Donna Olivia, who is as gay a coquette as one can imagine, has a castle and estate of her own, lying by the banks of the Nive, on the French side of the Pyrenees. Her sister, Virginia, who has lately obtained her liberty from a convent, by the Pope's dispensation dissolving her vows, has become the leading star of Madrid and Aranjuez. By the death of her cousin the Marquess of Montesa, who was killed near Albuera, you will remember, she has succeeded to large estates in Valencia,—Valencia la hermosa,[*] the land of wine and olives. The fair sisters are closely besieged by all the threadbare cavaliers in the province,—fellows who trace their pedigrees beyond King Bamba's days; so that Lisle has very little chance."

[*] The beautiful.

"He will forget them when the route comes," said Alister. "I have been desperately in love about eight times, since we landed at the Black Horse-square in Lisbon; and Louis will get over this affair, as I have done others. The flirts of one garrison-town efface the impressions made by those of the last."

"Now and then a raw sub is meshed and caged, though!"

"Or an old field-officer, in desperation of getting a wife at all; but generally we rough it too much at present to find time to fall in love."

On the evening of the Highlanders' ball all Aranjuez was in a state of commotion: myriads of lights were burning throughout the palace and royal gardens, where every thing bore evidence of the good taste and expedition of the committee.

For promenading there were set apart a long suite of rooms, extending from one wing to the other. Their floors were tessellated, and the ceilings gilded and painted in fresco, while the walls had been adorned by a thousand choice pictures, selected by the committee. These rooms had quite the appearance of an exhibition; but at intervals were hung wreaths of laurel, intermingled with festoons of tartan plaids, garlands of flowers, glittering stars of bayonets and claymores, pistols and musquets, which were reflected in many a polished mirror hung between the white marble pilasters which supported the ceilings of these splendid apartments. In every one of the long suite was a richly carved marble mantel-piece, and on each stood a magnificent alabaster French clock. Behind rose tall mirrors encircled by gorgeously gilt frames, all of Paris manufacture, part of King Joseph's household stuff, abandoned by him on his hasty flight.

The rooms were brilliantly lighted up, as indeed were the courts, arcades, and every part of the spacious palace. The large hall appropriated to the dancers was decorated like the promenade. The regimental band occupied the music-gallery, in front of which hung the yellow silk standards of the corps. The curtains of the twelve lofty windows were hung in festoons, showing the open casements and steps of white marble leading to the illuminated gardens, in the bowers of which the refreshment-tables were laid, and attended by waiters.

A Highland guard of honour, consisting of a hundred grenadiers, were drawn up in the portico to receive, with the usual compliments, the magistrates and persons of rank; and the members of the committee might be seen hurrying through the lighted rooms in full puff,[*] dressed in their gayest uniform, ordering here and there and every where the servants and attendants, and getting every thing in due order before the company began to arrive. About nine o'clock came the four pompous alcaldes, clad in gowns of red scarlet. Three brought their wives with them,—swarthy old ladies, wearing their hair twisted in two gigantic tails, reaching far below their waists. Each came in an old-fashioned carriage, attended behind by a couple of strapping alguazils, armed with halberts or blunderbusses. The guard of honour presented arms, the drum beat a march, and the four senores, doffing their sombreros, were ushered into an outer apartment, where Fassifern stayed to receive the company. He was dressed in full uniform, and wore his kilt and purse, instead of the truis and spurs of a field-officer, and his plaid of dark green tartan was fastened to his left shoulder by a splendid silver brooch, which flashed and sparkled in the light of the lustres. After the arrival of the unfashionable alcaldes, the company continued to pour in without intermission, until the rooms were crowded. All the staff arrived about twelve o'clock; but the general himself, for some reason, was unable to attend.

[*] A military cant word for full dress.

The interior of the stately palace presented a scene of no ordinary splendour on that evening. Hundreds of uniforms of cavalry and infantry officers—British, Spanish, Portuguese, and German, were glittering every where. The ladies were attired in all the colours of the rainbow, and their light floating dresses were seen mingling among smart light dragoons, Scottish Highlanders, green-clad caçadores, and clumsy German riflemen, and, I must remark, that the latter were perhaps the most vulgar and ungainly fellows that ever appeared in a ballroom. There were numbers of cavaliers attired in the Spanish doublet, a close-fitting vest with sleeves. A smart mantle dangled from their left shoulder, and nearly all wore knee-breeches and broad white collars around their necks—a costume at once smart and picturesque. Many wore the garbs and badges of their national military orders: there were knights of Calatrava and Alcantara, wearing,—the former red crosses, the latter green, upon black velvet tunics; and knights of "the Band," wearing the scarlet scarf of their ancient order. But the most picturesque costumes were those of four knights of the religious order of Redemption, who appeared clad completely in white, with a large black cross on the breast of the silk tunic, which reached to the knees. A white velvet mantle flowed behind, and each wore three white feathers in a small round cap of a flat shape, like the bonnet of a Lowlander.

These singular garbs added greatly to the gaiety of the scene; but if the interior of the palace presented a blaze of splendour, the illuminated gardens were a realization of fairy land. Two channels having been given to the Tagus, the grounds of the palace were enclosed as an island, being completely surrounded by the stream, amid which many a stately swan was swimming about, or slowly sailing as they spread their snowy plumage to the breeze. The trees were thickly planted on each side of the walks, and their boughs, which were beginning to wear the brown tints of autumn, embraced each other, and being carefully pruned below, formed long and beautiful sylvan arcades, such as are not to be found in any other garden in Europe. A thousand variegated lamps, clustering like enchanted fruit, were hung upon their boughs, or stretched from tree to tree in festoons, illuminating with a blaze of light the deepest recesses, where even the meridian sun could not penetrate.

White marble statues were gleaming, and the rushing waters of the famous jets d'eau were sparkling like showers of diamonds in the artificial light, which likewise revealed the glories of the rich parterres, where flowers of every tint, crimson and gold, purple and blue, orange and red, were yet budding and blooming in spite of the advanced time of the year. The strains of music were wafted divinely through the open casements of the hall, where the dancers were wreathed in the quadrille, or wheeled round in the giddy waltz,—the light feet of the Spanish girls gliding like those of sylphs or fairies, while their airy drapery, floating about over the marble floors, seemed like the garments of the same imaginary beings. What a strong contrast all this scene formed, when compared with the misery and discomfort which the troops had endured so long, and that which they were soon again doomed to suffer!

Like the other officers of the Highlanders, Ronald was accurately attired in full uniform, wearing his cross on his breast. His kilt, which contained ten yards of the Gordon tartan, reached to within three inches of his knee; from this the leg was bare to the swell of the calf, where his silk hose of red and white dice, were gartered with knots of red ribbons. A handsome brooch confined the folds of his plaid above the left epaulet, and a tasselled sporan, the mouth of which was hidden by a fox's head, dangled from his waist. His patron, Don Ascasibur Yñürritegui, who was attired in the dress and armed with a long Toledo of Charles the Fifth's days, had introduced him to several pretty girls, with all of whom he had danced and flirted, promenaded, handed scarfs, bouquets, and ices, and acquitted himself as a very accomplished caballero. For Louis Lisle he looked every where in vain: he was the only one absent.

"Where is Lisle, Alister?" asked he of Macdonald, who moved slowly past, with a fat old lady leaning on his arm. Although richly jewelled and robed, she was confoundedly ugly, and wore a white veil hanging down her broad back from a comb at least one foot six inches high. "It is very odd," continued Ronald, "that he should absent himself on this occasion."

"The Duke of Alba de T—— and his two charming daughters have not arrived yet. Louis will come with them."

"Ah! I had forgotten. I long to see those beauties of whom I have heard so much. But how is it that I have not seen you dancing to-night?"

"Tush!" whispered the other ruefully in English. "Campbell, designedly I think, introduced me to this old woman, his patrona,—wife of the Contador, or Steward of the palace. She sticks to me like a burr, and I am compelled to waste the night as her escudero, when so many delightful girls are present."

"The flower of Madrid and Aranjuez."

"I will revenge myself on Campbell for this trick of his."

"Try if Blacier, of the 60th, will relieve you of her. Germans are not very fastidious in their tastes. He is standing among the dancers, alike regardless of place or persons, smoking his long German pipe as coolly as he would do in a guard-room."

Alister led the unconscious lady off, and succeeded "in turning her over to Blacier's command," as he said when he rejoined Ronald.

"There is Seaton," said he, "striving to make himself agreeable to the gay widow of the Calle Mayor, Donna Elvira Moro."

"Seaton can easily do that; he is a very handsome fellow. Who is the young lady to whom Bevan has attached himself so closely?"

"One of rank, I believe, and a widow too,—the Condessa Estremera."

"How gaily she flirts."

"Poor Bevan! he is a simple fellow, and I believe she is making a sad fool of him. Last night I saw her amusing herself thus with one of the 34th, and—— Hah! here comes Lisle, with the duke and the young ladies. Beautiful girls!"

"Beautiful indeed!" echoed Stuart, as the tall and portly duke, attired in an old-fashioned dress, with his broad beaver under his left arm, and, encased in a white glove, the little hand of Donna Olivia drooping on his right, entered the dancing-rooms, followed by Lisle leading Donna Virginia. Both the sisters were tall, and of queen-like figures. Their dresses of white satin were richly trimmed with fine lace, and lofty ostrich-feathers nodded above their glossy ringlets, amid which many a diamond and other gem sparkled and blazed when they moved. Long white Spanish veils, descending from the head, hung down behind them, giving to their figures still greater grace and dignity.

"They are lovely creatures!" said Macdonald. "But Virginia moves like an empress among all the plumed and jewelled beauties around her."

"What a thrice enviable sub is Master Louis, to be their cavalier! All eyes are turned upon them."

"And a knight of Alcantara, yonder, leaning against the mantel-piece, seems to eye Lisle with a very unfriendly look. In truth, Donna Olivia appears like some being of another world. Her features are Grecian rather than Spanish; and her eyes—by Jove! they are brighter than diamonds, and flash like lightning when she smiles.

"You seem quite enraptured with her."

"I am a connoisseur; but fair as she is, there is one bonnie lass in the Western Isles, who to me seems fairer still. Olivia is a bold and beautiful girl, but there is something softer, yet not less pleasing, in the hazel eyes of Virginia."

"Virginia! By heavens, I should know her face! Where can I have seen it before?"

"Hush! they are moving this way, smiling and coquetting as if they meant to be the death of us all."

"Faith! Alister, I hope Lisle will have the charity to introduce us."

"Tush! A Spanish officer has carried off Olivia. He has engaged her for the next dance. He is bowing to you, Stuart."

Ronald's eyes at that moment encountered those of the Condé de Truxillo. Both bowed, and the condé placing his arm around Olivia, wheeled her into the circle of the waltzers, where they were seen only for a moment now and then. Fassifern led away the duke to one of the refreshment-tables in the garden; while Lisle, followed by the sharp eyes of many a jealous cavalier, advanced towards Stuart and Macdonald, with Virginia leaning on his arm.

"I wish one of you would find a partner," said he; "we want a vis-a-vis for the next quadrille."

"With pleasure."

"I am engaged to dance with Donna Isabel de Campo," said Alister; "but pray introduce me, Louis."

"And me," added Ronald. "A most lucky dog you are!" These observations passed in English; but the formal introduction was gone through in choice Castilian. "I have surely had the happiness of seeing Donna Virginia before," said Ronald. "It is impossible I could ever forget."

"Holy Mother! Senor Officiale," exclaimed the young lady with an air of pretty surprise, as she raised her fine eye-brows; "is it possible that you recognise me, arrayed as I now am in a garb so different from that which I wore in the convent of Santa Cruz?"

"Do I behold the Madre Santa Martha of Jarciejo in Donna Virginia? What riddle is this, senora?"

"A strange one truly, senor, and a very agreeable transformation," replied the lady, blushing and smiling as she glanced at her figure, which was fully reflected in an opposite mirror.

"What is all this?" asked Lisle in surprise. "Then you are acquainted with each other, it seems?"

"O yes, Don Louis; quite old friends indeed," replied the lady, with a vivacity which piqued Don Louis a little. "We met on a sad occasion—a very sad one, truly,—of which I will give you the history when we are at leisure. 'Tis quite a romance, and Cervantes of Esquivas,[*] or Juan de Valencia,[**] have never written any thing like it."

[*] Cervantes is said to have been born at Esquivas, near Toledo.

[**] Author of El Patranuelo, and other old-fashioned works.

"Allow me to lead you, Donna Virginia; the dancers are arranging themselves. Had we not better take our places?"

"Certainly, senor; but our vis-a-vis, remember. Shall I introduce your friend to the Condessa Estremera.—she waltzes beautifully."

"The Condessa is engaged; she appears resolved to make quite a conquest of Bevan of ours."

"Are we to look all night for a vis-a-vis? Oh! here comes my sister Olivia; she is beautiful enough to make him die of love, and I shall introduce him, if it was only to make Truxillo jealous."

Truxillo regarded Stuart with no pleasant eye as he carried off his donna. However, he endeavoured to dissemble, and said with a smile, "I congratulate you, senor, on obtaining the highest order of knighthood that a Spanish king can confer. You will find it easy work to protect the pilgrims who visit Compostella from the insults of the Moors in the nineteenth century. I am myself a commander of the order," he added, displaying a richer cross, around which was the motto,—Sanguine Arabum.

"I am again to be the rival of this fiery condé. I am always in some confounded scrape," thought Ronald, as he led his partner to her place.

"Santa Anna, senor! these rooms are suffocating," said the lady.

"As soon as the dance is ended, permit me to have the honour of leading you to the garden."

"Pray relieve me of my scarf." The thin gauze screen was transferred from the white shoulders of Olivia to Ronald's arm.

"See, senor,—the Condessa; how well she is looking. Ah! had she only worn her tiara on her black curls, she would have been matchless."

"Impossible, while Donna Olivia is present."

"Look at that officer of Villamur's regiment,—a handsome cavalier; he bows. How do you do, Pedro? What can that old knight of Calatrava be whispering to the rich widow of the Calle Mayor. Ah, I would give the world to know! How they smile at each other. Love must be very agreeable. Santos! I have dropped my fan. Quick, senor; pick it up, before the feet of the dancers—— A thousand thanks," she added, as Ronald restored it to her. "I would not have it destroyed for the universe,—'tis a present from Don Carlos Avallo: he, too, is looking this way. How d'ye do, Carlos?" and thus did Olivia run on during all the intervals between the figures of the dance.

No sooner was the quadrille over, than the galopade was proposed.

"Viva la galopade! cavaliers," cried Cameron, striking his hands together. Lisle still kept Virginia, and Ronald her gay sister, and all the cavaliers of Old and New Castile grew hot with indignation and jealousy. Away flew the dancers to the crash of music from the orchestra. The scene was indeed glorious. A hundred couples went round hand in hand, plumes waving, ear-rings trembling, jewels and epaulets, stars and medals flashing and glittering, spurs and poniards clanking, the light feet and muslin drapery of the graceful Spanish girls flying about and mingling with the buckled shoes and dark green tartans of the Highlanders. Bravo! It was beautiful.

The dance was over, and the ladies, breathless and overcome, with bosoms panting, cheeks blushing, and eyes sparkling, clung to the arms of their cavaliers, who led them through the open casements to promenade in the cool gardens, where the female waiters, little sylph-like girls about twelve or fifteen years old, clad in white, with their black curls streaming about, glided through the illuminated arbours and walks, handing ices to the ladies, and cool and sparkling champagne or Malaga to the gentlemen. When promenading with Olivia through one of the beautiful walks, from each side of which he was constantly culling fresh flowers for her bouquet, Ronald heard familiar voices conversing in an orange-bower, the interior of which was brilliantly illuminated with parti-coloured lamps.

"Yes, sir; we turned their flank, and fell upon them with the bayonet, and with God's help cut to pieces every mother's son of them in five minutes," said Campbell within the bower, striking his heavy hand emphatically on the seat; adding afterwards in another tone, "Most excellent champagne this, Don Ascasibur, and much obliged we are to the ex-king of Spain for leaving it here to be drunk by better men."

"Satanas take the ex-king!" replied Yñürritegui. "And so it was as you tell, that this very noble old cavalier was slain?"

"Ay, sir; the shot struck him here, and he fell sword in hand from his saddle. A gallant fellow was Sir Ralph, and under his command I was initiated into all the sublime mysteries of soldiery."

"Campbell has been fighting Egypt over again to my patron," thought Stuart. "Major," said he, looking in, "how can you and Don Ascasibur be so ungallant as to forsake the ladies for champagne flasks? Fie upon you! senores."

"The ladies will not break their hearts: such a fright old Yñürritegui is!" whispered Olivia behind her fan.

"Campbell, do you mean to sit here all night?" said Chisholm, looking in on the other side as he passed with a lady. "They are arranging themselves for the galope again."

"It is fit only for subs," replied the major testily. "The idea of a field-officer galloping any way but on horseback!"

"It seems quite the rage here at Aranjuez," said Stuart, as Chisholm moved off. "But then the girls here galope so beautifully, they are in the right to have it so. So, major, you do not mean to join the dancers to-night?"

"Yes," answered the other, shaking the flasks, which all proved empty; "but neither at waltz, quadrille, or galope. I have no idea of flying round a room at the rate of ten miles an hour, in mortal terror the while of crushing the ladies dear little feet and white satin shoes with my heavy brogues. Besides, the dance is too intricate for me—'chassez to the right and left, turn your partner, balancez, turn again, galopade à la chassez to places!' Pooh! I would rather dance Tullochgorm or the Ruighle Thulaichean, or any other decent fling; but I have no love for your Spanish dances and galopade quadrilles. They ill become the sporran and breacan-anfeile of the Highlandman, and are no more to be compared to a strathspey than a Toledo is to a real-fluted Andrea Ferrara." The major snapt his fingers, and chanted with a loud voice a verse of the Grant's reel:

"There needs na be sae great a phrase,

Wi' dringing dull Italian lays,

I wadna gie our ain strathspeys

For half a hundred score o' em.

They're douff an' dowie at the best,

Douff and dowie, douff and dowie,

They're douff an' dowie at the best,

Wi 'a' their variorum.

They're douff and dowie at the best,

Their allegros and a' the rest,

They canna please a Highland taste,

Compared wi' Tullochgorm."

Stuart was leading away Donna Olivia, who laughed excessively at the major's song, which sounded wondrously uncouth to her ears, when Campbell called to him. "I say, Stuart," said he, "I am going to show the ladies here a new fling. I have sent for Ranald Dhu and the six pipers. Fassifern, Ronald Macdonuil, and myself, are about to perform the sword dance. We astonished old Mohammed Djedda with it in Egypt. You must join us."

"I should be most happy, but I am the honoured cavalier of one of the prettiest girls in Aranjuez, and it is impossible I can join you; but we will witness it in the hall."

A few minutes afterwards the pipers arrived, and preparations were made for the Highland dance. Claymores were taken from the wall, and laid across each other on the floor. The colonel, Campbell, and two other officers took their places, while seven pipers stood at the end of the hall, and on a given signal struck up an appropriate air.

"Santa Maria!" screamed the senoras, and "Morte de Dios!" growled the senores, while they covered their ears with their hands to protect them from "so dangerous an invasion." Many an English and Irish officer did so likewise, for the sound of the pipes in the vaulted hall was tremendous. Away went the dancers to the sound of the first note, and continued to leap, skip, and "hooch and hoo!" while they flung about with true Scottish spirit and agility, moving with miraculous precision among the bare blades of the claymores, while applauses loud and long rewarded them. 'Twas a new sight indeed to the Spaniards, and the eyes of every Scotsman present lighted up with enthusiasm, although many of them had never witnessed the martial dance before. Long after the others had resumed their seats, the gigantic Campbell, strong, active, and filled with perfect delight, continued to dance, wave his arms and the folds of his enormous kilt and plaid, until at last compelled to sink into a seat, amid loud huzzas and astounding vivas.

Quadrilles, galopades, and waltzes again followed, and before the ball broke up the light of the morning sun had replaced the illuminations of the palace and its gardens. Then came the gallant farewells, and shawls, mantillas, and furred shoes were in requisition, the gentlemen making themselves as busy as possible in wrapping up the ladies to protect them from the chill morning air; and then, muffling themselves in their cloaks, many an officer and cavalier strode away behind the lumbering carriage or sedan, which conveyed to her home some lady to whom they had been particularly attentive during the night, and whom, as in duty bound, they wished to squire to the door of her own residence,—the streets of continental cities not being very safe at these hours, when picaros and valientes[*] of every kind are on the watch, to exercise their talents on the unsuspecting or unprotected.

[*] Rogues and ruffians, or bravos.

On the following evening a grand bull-fight was to be held in the marble square, for the entertainment of the British. The splendid mansion of the Duke of Alba de T—— formed nearly a whole side of this elegant Plaza, and from its windows an excellent view could be obtained. The Condé de Truxillo, Fassifern, Seaton, Lisle, and Stuart, and many other officers, dined with the duke that day. The ladies were all smiles and beauty, although a little pale with the fatigues of the preceding evening; but Olivia, and her cousin the bright-eyed condessa, were as gay and vivacious as ever. The dinner, which consisted of a variety of stews, cutlets, and light confectionary, began by a course of fruit, just as ours ends. Afterwards came chocolate, and cigars for those gentlemen who chose to lounge on the balconies, and plenty of flirting, waltzing, singing and music at the piano and guitar, for those who remained with the ladies.

During the whole day preparations had been making for the approaching display. All the streets leading to the Plaza were strongly barricadoed with bullock-cars, mule-carts, and every thing that could serve to enclose the arena, and prevent the escape of the bulls.

Four of them were imprisoned in a den at one end of the square, where they were undergoing a process of torture, being goaded by steel pikes through holes in the roof, to rouse them to the requisite pitch of madness and ferocity. It was a beautiful sunny evening, and about four o'clock the people began to collect; at six the Plaza was crowded to excess,—the balconies, roofs, and windows were all taken possession of, and hundreds of pennons, streamers, and garlands flaunted from the houses; while the bands of the 28th and the 6th Portuguese caçadores filled the air with strains of music, and delight shone in every Spanish eye at the amusement promised by their favourite national pastime.

The guests of the duke occupied the large balcony, which extended along the front of his house. It was covered with a piece of tapestry, and the ladies were seated in front, while their cavaliers stood behind. Here Stuart missed the condé, who had been by Donna Olivia's side all day. He was about to inquire for him, when Balthazzar suddenly appeared in the arena, arrayed in a very singular garb. A small velvet cap was on his head, fully displaying his short curly hair and fine features. He wore a close-fitting doublet of black cloth, slashed with white; a mantle of a bright orange colour hung on his left arm, and in his right hand he carried a short pike about five feet long, the head of which was of sharp and bright steel. Three other cavaliers, similarly accoutered, made their appearance in the arena, and the people raised a cry of "Viva Baltazar, el valiente soldado! Viva el gracios caballero Ascasibur Yñürritegui! Here are the bulls! Here are the bulls!"

Balthazzar kissed his hand to Donna Olivia, who threw him a flower from her breast, and he placed it in his cap.

"Beware, my poor condé," said she, "and be not over rash. Remember that your foes are bulls from the Xamara."

"Are they different from any other bulls, Donna Virginia?" asked Louis.

"Oh! have you not heard? They are the very fiercest in Spain,—perhaps in the world. When once aroused, nothing tames them but being slain."

"And to these the condé is about to oppose himself. Are you not concerned for his safety, senoras?"

"Balthazzar has a sharp pike and a sure heel," answered Olivia, fanning herself, "and I have no fears for him."

"Have you ever seen any one killed in the arena?"

"Yes. A bull of Xamara tossed our poor cousin, the Condé Estremera, into the air, and he came down dead."

"And still you like this sport?" said Cameron, "sport which our Scottish ladies would shudder to look upon."

"Yes, senor. O viva Santissima!" answered all the ladies at once, clapping their white hands, "here come the bulls!"

A shout of delight from the multitude shook the Plaza. A sort of portcullis had been raised, and forth from his den rushed a bull into the arena, his eyes darting fire, with nostrils elated, and mouth covered with foam, the hair of his neck bristling up like the mane of a lion, and every muscle quivering with the torture he had undergone. He rolled his red eyes about, as if to select a convenient object to attack. The condé waved his orange mantle across the face of the bull, which, uttering a roar, plunged forward upon him. Closely pursued by his formidable adversary, Truxillo ran round the arena. This was the most dangerous part of the game, as a fall, or the least false step, would be certain death. At the moment when the bull was preparing for a grand plunge "with hoof and horn," the condé sprung over a barrier, dropping his mantle as he did so. It was instantly transfixed and tossed into the air by the bull, which was now attacked in the rear by Don Ascasibur, who carried a red mantle and a pike, which he plunged into the brawny flank of the victim. With a roar of fury and agony the beast thundered over the marble pavement after his assailant, but was diverted from the pursuit, being pierced by the pikes of a third and fourth cavalier, who kept him galloping round the arena in every direction, dropping their mantles and leaping the barriers whenever the danger became too pressing, until he sunk exhausted and bloody at the base of the statue of Charles the Fifth, where the condé put an end to its agony by plunging his pike repeatedly into its body. Three others were slain in the same manner, and all the performers had narrow escapes for their lives at different times. The four bulls were sent away to the kitchen of the Casa de los locos[*] for the benefit of the patients and the poor people of the town. Extraordinary agility, skill, and courage were displayed by the four cavaliers in this daring Spanish game, which, though not less cruel, had in it, by the personal risk incurred, something infinitely nobler and more chivalric than the brutal custom of bull-baiting, which so long disgraced South Britain.

[*] Asylum for the insane.

In the course of an hour all the bulls had fallen in succession, and yielded the palm to their four tormentors, who were greeted with enthusiastic applause by the multitude, on whose shoulders they were lifted up, and carried by force triumphantly round the square.

When this display was over, the condé resumed the brown uniform and silver epaulets of the 4th Spanish infantry, and rejoined the duke's guests in the balcony, from which they were beholding other feats of dexterity. A tall and powerful Spaniard, Gaspar Alozegui, the strongest and most athletic man in the two Castiles, entered the arena, bearing a large cannon-shot, and a sledge-hammer. He waved his broad hat to the populace, who cheered their favourite, as no man yet had ever rivalled him in feats of strength and agility. Taking up the cannon-shot, the weight of which I have forgotten, he poised it for a moment in his hand, and then tossing it from him, sent it whizzing along the pavement, as a bowler does a cricket ball, from one end of the Plaza to the other, where it rebounded against the wall of a house and lay still. Alozegui arrogantly challenged any man among the thousands there assembled to throw it within ten feet of the spot where it then lay, offering in that case to forfeit a purse of ten onzas presented to the victor by the fair patronas of the day,—the daughters of the Duke of Alba de T——. Alozegui looked around him triumphantly; but no man answered the challenge, which was not delivered in very moderate language, and he now grasped the shaft of his ponderous hammer. Swinging it thrice round his head, he hurled it from his hand with the speed of a thunderbolt. The crowd for a moment held their breath, and the gaze of their eyes followed the semicircle which it described through the air. It alighted close by the shot, and again the cheers of the people broke forth; after which Gaspar repeated his challenge in the same arrogant terms.

"Such an insolent dog as this Alozegui deserves to be beaten," said the condé.

"He has thrown well," observed Stuart, as he leant over the balcony; "yet the sport loses its zest when there is no competitor."

"Viva, Alozegui," said Donna Olivia. "He deserves to kiss my hand, and should but for his bushy black beard."

"I am convinced that my servant, Dugald Mhor, old as he is, will throw these matters further," said Fassifern, who was indignant at Alozegui's challenge, and burned with eagerness to see him beaten. He spoke in English, "I suppose Dugald is below among the servants. He followed me here. As sure as my name is John Cameron, he will beat Alozegui."

"Let some one inquire if he is below?"

"I say, colonel," cried Seaton, who was seated at the other end of the balcony, with his glass at his eye; "surely, Campbell of ours is about to answer the challenge of the Spaniard. He has entered the arena."

"Now, by heavens! well done Colin, and Dugald Mhor too,—honest old Dugald! Look to yourself, Micer Alozegui; you will scarcely hold the prize against two such men," said Cameron in great glee. "Major, are you about to contend with this impudent loon?"

"We are indeed," replied Campbell, "and hard work the braggadocio will have to beat us. Dugald and I are comrades to-day, and mean to show these dons the mettle of Highlandmen, and what sort of muscle brose and brochan can produce. I have hurled a stone three times the size of that shot from Craigfianteach into Lochawe, and mean to strain every nerve to give the dons a surprise. I thought it a shame that so many British men should stand by quietly, and let a Spaniard boast thus. Throwing the hammer is a national amusement, and I hope that neither don or devil will beat a Scotsman at it. After we have conquered Senor Alozegui, Dugald and I will challenge the whole crowd to a game at quoits or shinty, whichever they like best."

Alozegui, on understanding that they had answered the challenges, laid the shot and hammer before them, carefully marking the places where they lay; a needless precaution, as he very soon learned.

"Dugald Cameron, my man, take you the shot," said the major, "and let them see that you are 'steel to the bane.' Ye showed true mettle the day Alexandria was fought, and can do so here, lyart though your pow may be. I will take the fore hammer, and now, my lads! here are two decent Highlandmen against all the bearded braggarts on this side of the Pyrenees."

"I am auld enough to be his gutcher twice ower and mair, as my siller haffets and runkled cheeks may tell you; but I will never shrink frae the task when a Hieland gentleman like your honour commands me," said Dugald, as he cast down his bonnet, sword, and plaid; and taking up the ball as if it had been a walnut, without once looking at it, threw it over the houses at the end of the square by a single swing of his arm.

"The Cameron for ever! Well done, Dugald!" exclaimed the major. "A foot lower and the Emperor had lost his head, which would have spoiled all the sport."

Dugald laughed, stroked down his white hairs, and casting his plaid around him, withdrew under the balcony where the delighted Fassifern was standing. He received a cheer, though not a very cordial one, from the people; and Alozegui bestowed upon him a most formidable scowl of rage and hatred, to which he replied by a laugh, and a direction to "gie the gowd he had tint to the puirfolk." Now came the major's turn, and the Spaniard began to tremble for his fame. The former, after examining the ponderous hammer to assure himself that the handle was firmly fixed into it, swung it once around his head, and straining every muscle to conquer, cast it from his hand with a force and swiftness truly amazing. Describing a complete arch over the spacious Plaza, it whirled through the air, and passing over the houses of an adjacent street, lighted among the reeds on the banks of the Tagus, where it was discovered next day. However, it could not be found for that night, and the only reward Campbell received from the Spaniards for his prowess, was the half-muttered ejaculation of astonishment at the flight taken by the missile. The dons were very angry at their hero being beaten by a foreigner and heretic, and so astonished at his wonderful strength, that they readily adopted the opinion of some old Capuchine padres, "that he had been assisted by the devil."

"Hoich, major! weel dune," shouted old Dugald, waving his bonnet. "Fair play a' the warld ower,—Cothram na feine,[*] as we say at hame in Lochiel. Ferntosh and barley-bannock are the stuff to mak' men o'; no accadenty and snail-broth,—deevil tak' them baith!"

[*] The equal battle of the Fingalians,—a Highland proverb.

"Long life to you, major!" cried many of the Highlanders; and hundreds of soldiers belonging to the 66th, 34th, and other corps of the division huzzaed him loudly. On receiving from the duke's contador (steward) the purse of thirty onzas, Campbell, knowing that Dugald was too proud to touch a maravedi of the money placed it in the hands of Alozegui, telling him not to be cast down, as Dugald and himself had beaten better men than ever trod the realm of Spain. This taunt only stung more deeply the fiery and enraged Spaniard, who scorned to receive the purse, which he tossed among the people, and leaping over the barriers, disappeared. Campbell waved his hummel-bonnet (a plain cap without feathers) to the assembled multitude, and withdrew to finish the night over a pigskin with Don Ascasibur, and tell endless narratives about Egypt and Sir Ralph.

During that evening, from a thousand little circumstances which it is needless to rehearse, it was evident to Ronald that Louis Lisle was deeply enamoured of the beautiful Virginia; and that she was not unfavourable to him was also manifest, although she took every means to conceal it: but Ronald had a sharp eye for these matters. What the opinion of the proud old duke might be on such a subject it was not difficult to say; and his conscience would not in the least have prevented him from employing the poniard of some matador to rid his family of such a suitor. However, his mind was at that moment too much taken up with political schemes to permit him to observe the growing passion between his daughter and the young Scottish subaltern, to whom twenty days' residence in his palace had given every opportunity to press his suit that a lover could desire.

The party at the De T—— palace broke up about eleven o'clock, and ruminating on the probabilities of Louis's winning the donna, should he really propose for her hand, Ronald passed slowly through the marble square, and down a street leading towards his billet, which was near the Calle Mayor. A gush of light, streaming into the darkness through the open portal and traceried windows of an illuminated chapel, invited him to enter, in expectation of beholding some solemn religious ceremony; but the building was entirely empty, and the blaze of light proceeded from some hundreds of tapers burning around the gilded shrine of the patron saint of Aranjuez. From this spot a strong flood of crimson light glared through the nave and chancel, tinging with the hue of blood the black marble pavement, the slender pillars, and the groined roof of fretted stone work. Many mouldy portraits of saints adorned the walls; around the lighted shrine were hung certain strange memorials, placed there by the piety of those whom the saint was supposed to have cured. Crutches, even wooden legs and many stucco casts of deformed limbs, were there displayed, all doubtless the work of cunning priests, to impose upon the credulity of the Spaniards. But what chiefly raised his wonder, was some hundred little images of children, with which the place was absolutely crowded.

His attention was next attracted by several standards, the trophies of war, which hung from the highest part of the chapel, where the roof rose somewhat in the form of a dome. These belonged to various nations; and one, by the crescents on it, he judged to be Moorish; but the other two he remarked more particularly. The one was the ensign of a British ship of war which had been wrecked on the coast of Spain; the other was an ancient Scottish standard of white silk, crossed with St. Andrew's blue cross, and splendidly embroidered with silver thistles. About the latter he could not obtain the least information, although he made every inquiry next day. But it was probably the regimental colour of some of the Scottish auxiliaries who served in the Low Countries against the Emperor Charles the Fifth. Ronald was revolving in his own mind the means of capturing or destroying both these standards, when the entrance of the Condé de Truxillo diverted him from his purpose, and saved to the Spaniards those trophies which most likely still adorn the chapel royal of Aranjuez.

"What adventure are you in search of now, senor, that you have not yet sought your billet in the Calle Mayor?"

"I understand," replied the condé, "that the Carbineros of Medina del Campo marched into Aranjuez about sun-set. I have a very dear brother, an officer in them, and I am searching for some one to direct me to his quarters, late as the hour is. Manuel and I were very dear friends in youth, being educated together at our old castle near Truxillo; but we have not seen each other for six years, as our regiments have always campaigned in different provinces. He was a slender youth, without a hair on his lip when I saw him last, but now he must be a stout and well-whiskered cavalier. Ah, how much I long to behold him!"

"I regret, condé, that I can give you no information as to where the quarters of the Carbineros are. Some of the quarter-guards may perhaps inform you."

"Ho! senor Stuart," exclaimed Truxillo, as his eye fell on the shrine with all its little images and blazing tapers. "Lo, you now! behold what rogues our padres are. Do you know the meaning of all these images?"

"No. I own I was somewhat puzzled to discover."

"Well, senor," answered Truxillo with a loud laugh, "all these are the images of children born unto ladies who had long pined for them before they had visited this miraculous shrine,—so the monks tell us."

"Strange, if true."

"Its reputed sanctity is truly amazing; and all the dames of old and new Castile, Leon, and Arragon consider a visit to this place a sovereign remedy. They are shown the tomb of the saint in the vaults below; and its influence, aided by the attentions of a few stout padres, certainly has brought about singular cures; and—— But here comes my servant; he has been searching for the quarters of the Carbineros, and will—— Hah!" exclaimed Truxillo, his countenance changing as a servant belonging to the De T—— family entered the chapel, "do you seek me?"

The servant, who wore the orange-coloured livery of the duke, replied by whispering something into the ear of Don Balthazzar, whose "brow grew black as thunder."

"Falsificador! madman! what is this you have dared to tell me?" he exclaimed, furiously grasping the menial by the throat.

"The solemn truth, most noble condé. Release me! San Juan in the wilderness could not speak more truly. I am faithful to you,—I am, by the virgin!—Oh—" It is probable the fellow would never have spoken again, had not Ronald released his neck from the clutch of the condé.

"Cavalier!" exclaimed the latter, seizing Ronald's hand, "I know you to be brave and honourable as man can be. I have been basely betrayed this night. Will you follow me, that I may recover my lost honour, or perish? A deadly insult has been offered to me."

"I pledge you my word I will, Balthazzar. But what has this trembling blockhead told you?"

"Satanas! that Donna Olivia, to whom not an hour ago I plighted my love and troth, has even now a cavalier in her chamber."

"Impossible; he lies!"

"He does not—I know that he does not. I have bribed him to watch his mistress, and have long found him faithful. But Olivia, false and base Olivia! I have long suspected her falsehood and coquetry, and this night I will fearfully revenge them both upon herself. It must be Carlos Avallo. Malediction! I will slay him before her face. By our Lady of the Rock! my most sacred oath, I swear it!"

Balthazzar rushed away from the chapel, and Stuart followed to prevent him, if possible, from committing any outrage, and pursued him through the dark streets at his utmost speed. In a few seconds they stood before the mansion they had quitted but a short time ago. It was completely involved in darkness, save one room, from the windows of which a light straggled through the white curtains upon the balcony from which they had witnessed the bull-fight.

"The sisters sleep in separate apartments; that is Olivia's," whispered Truxillo, in a voice husky with the passions which possessed his heart. "Did you not see a tall shadow pass the window?"

"Let me entreat you, noble condé, to stay—to hold but for a single moment!"

"Carajo! may it be my last if I do!" replied the other fiercely, as he grasped a carved stone ornament projecting from the wall, and swung himself into the balcony, where he drew his sword, and applied his eye to the opening of the window curtains. Apprehensive that he might commit some rash deed, Ronald followed him, but with infinite trouble, rage having enabled the condé to climb by means which the other could not find. He was not without some secret fears that this rival cavalier might be Louis Lisle, and grasping Truxillo by the arm, he detained him by main force; and had the parties within been less occupied with themselves than they were, they must undoubtedly have heard the half-muttered threats of Balthazzar, and the scuffling which ensued on the balcony.

Through the half-opened casement they surveyed the chamber and its occupants. The sleeping-place of the donna was certainly a splendid one; the hangings, the chairs, the bed, and covering of the estrado, raised at one end of the floor, were all of white or rose-coloured velvet, fringed and embroidered with gold, and every thing else was of corresponding richness. A lamp, the globe of which was of rose-coloured glass, shed a warm light through the apartment; and three large vases of fresh flowers, placed on the verge of the estrado, gave forth an agreeable perfume. In a splendid easy-chair, which glittered with gilding and gilt nails, the beautiful Olivia was seated near her toilet-table,—the looseness of her dress and the disorder of her ringlets showing that she had been preparing for repose before her visitor had entered by the window, a place of ingress used oftener than the door by Spanish lovers. An officer in a Spanish cavalry uniform was kneeling at her feet, and his cloak and helmet lay on the floor near him.

"Lo! holy Virgin, a pretty piece of daring," said the lady as they approached the window.