I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp
and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without
affectation, audacious without impudence, learned without opinion,
and strange without heresy.--_Love's Labor Lost_.
L'Isle, meanwhile, after spending an unwonted time at his toilet, drew
himself up to the utmost of the five feet ten which nature had
allotted to him, to shake off the stoop which he imagined himself to
have contracted during his long hours of languor and suffering. He
then inspected himself most critically in the glass, to see how far he
had recovered his usual good looks. But that truthful counsellor
presented to him cheeks still sunken and pallid, and sharpened
features. The clear gray eye looked out from a cavern, and the rich
nut-brown hair hung over a brow covered with parchment. His lean
figure no longer filled the uniform which once fitted it so well. He
stood before his glass in no peacock mood of self-admiration; but was
compelled to own that he was not, just now at least, the man to
fascinate a lady's eye; so he resolved to take Lady Mabel by the ear,
which is, in fact, the surest way to catch a woman.
Lord Strathern kept his promise: to have no noisy fellows at dinner
to-day. Perhaps an occasional visitor, who hovered near, the gout,
made him more readily dispense with his more jovial companions. The
only guest, beside L'Isle, was Major Conway, of the light dragoons.
A party of four is an excellent number for conversation, especially if
there be no rivalry among them. The major had served long in India,
but had arrived in the Peninsula only toward the end of the last
campaign. He wished to learn all he could of the country, the people
and the war; and nearly five years of close observation, industrious
inquiry, and active service had rendered L'Isle just the man to
gratify his wishes. Lord Strathern, too, in a long and varied military
career, had seen much, and the old soldier had not failed to lay in a
stock of shrewd observation and amusing anecdote. So that, to a young
listener like Lady Mabel, eager to learn and quick to appreciate, two
or three hours glided away in striking and agreeable contrast with the
more jovial and somewhat noisy festivities of yesterday and many a
previous day. L'Isle made no attempt to engross her attention. Major
Conway had left a wife in England, which shut out any feelings of
rivalry with him. L'Isle was thus quite at his ease, and showed to
much advantage; for it is surprising how agreeable some people can
make themselves when they are bent upon it. He combined the qualities
of a good talker and a good listener; was communicative to the major;
yet more attentive to his lordship; and most careful, above all
things, to turn the conversation to topics interesting to Lady Mabel,
who, while listening, asking questions, and offering an occasional
remark, was fast coming to the conclusion that L'Isle, young as he
was, was by far the best informed and most considerate man in the
brigade. She more particularly wondered how, while tied down to his
military duties, he had found time to master the languages, history,
topography, and even the antiquities of the peninsula. He knew
personally many a Spaniard and Portuguese who had made himself
conspicuous for good or ill, at this fearful crisis of his country's
history. He thoroughly understood the people, with all their virtues
and their vices, that perhaps outweigh those virtues; yet he seemed by
no means to despise them. Amidst the too common baseness and
corruption, he could paint vividly their nobler traits, and illustrate
them by many a pointed anecdote and thrilling narrative. Lady Mabel
could not help thinking what a delightful companion he would be on a
tour through these countries, if she found so much pleasure in merely
listening to his account of what he had seen and witnessed there.
"Traveling is my passion," said Lady Mabel. "From childhood I have
longed to see foreign lands, and to find myself surrounded by
outlandish people. I suppose it is owing to my having been kept close
at home, yet encouraged to follow the footsteps of travelers over page
after page of their rambles. My journey hither, through the wilderness
of Alemtejo, has but whetted my appetite. And there is something
peculiarly fascinating in the idea of traveling in Spain, the land of
adventure and romance."
"Just now is no good time for such a journey," said L'Isle; "there are
too many French and other robbers besetting the roads."
"There would be too little of romance and too much of adventure in
meeting with them," said she. "It is most provoking to be thus
tantalized; the cup at my lips, and I cannot taste of it; Spain in
sight, and I cannot explore it. I am eager to visit the Alhambra and
Escurial, and other show-places, and take a long ramble in the Sierra
Morena. I would wish to engage the most skillful _arriero_ in all
Spain, and, mounted on his best mule, roam all over the country,
through every mountain-pass, and across every desolate plain, and make
a pilgrimage to every spot hallowed by poetic or historic fame. I
would search out, as a shrine of chivalry, each field on which the Cid
displayed the gleaming blade of _Tizona_, and on which the hoofs of
his _Babieca_ trampled on the Moor. I wonder if my guide could not
show me, too, the foundation-stones of the manor-house of the good
knight of La Mancha, the site at least of the bower of Dulcinea del
Toboso, and Gil Blas' robbers' cave?"
"Just at this time," said L'Isle, "the cave of Captain Rolando and his
comrades, being in the north of Leon, is particularly inaccessible,
for there are some ninety thousand similar gentry wintering between us
and it."
"Those fellows have been very quiet of late, and it will probably be
some time before they are stirring again," said Lord Strathern.
"We will give them reason to bestir themselves as soon as the corn is
grown enough to fodder our horses," answered L'Isle. "Meanwhile, Lady
Mabel, there is much worth seeing in Portugal. All is not like the
wilderness of Alemtejo. If you will believe the Portuguese, it was not
to the imagination of the poet, but to the eye of the traveler in
Lusitania, that we owe the poetic pictures of the Elysian fields. All
the Portuguese agree that their country is crowded with the choice
beauties and wonders of nature, and they certainly should know their
own country best. I have seen enough of it to satisfy me, that though
but a little corner of the smallest of the continents, it is a lovely
and remarkable part of the earth. Its beautiful mountains, not
sublime, perhaps, like the Alps and Pyrenees, but exquisitely rich and
wonderful in coloring, with a variety of romantic and ever-shifting
scenery, are perhaps unrivaled in Europe; its grand rivers, often
unite on their banks the wildest rocks with the loveliest woodland
scenes; its balmy climate fosters in many places an ever green foliage
and a perpetual spring."
"From your description of the country," said Lady Mabel, "one might
take you for a Portuguese."
"Yet they themselves have little perception of the real beauties of
nature," said L'Isle. "They will lead you away from the loveliest
scene in their land, to point out some curiosity, more to their taste;
some miraculous image, some saintly relic brought by angels from the
Holy Land, or, perhaps, some local natural phenomenon, which has a
dash of the wonderful about it. For instance, when at Braga, three
years ago, with my hands full of business, and anxious at the same
time to learn all I could of the country around, my Portuguese
companion compelled me to waste a precious hour in visiting a famous
spring in the garden of a convent of St. Augustine. The water, you
must know, is intensely cold, and if a bottle of wine be immersed in
it, it is instantly turned into vinegar."
"Did you see that?" asked Lady Mabel.
"When I called for a bottle of wine, the good fathers told me they had
given all they had to a detachment of Portuguese troops that marched
by the day before--a charity more wondrous than the virtue of the
spring."
"Yet it is a pity you could not test the virtues of this wonderful
spring," said she.
"Not more wonderful," said L'Isle, "than the fountain in the village
of Friexada. Its water, too, is excessively cold, and of so hungry a
nature, that in less than an hour it consumes a joint of meat, leaving
the bones quite bare."
"You of course tested that," said she.
"Unluckily," said L'Isle, "our party had only one leg of mutton in
store, and were too hungry to risk their dinner in the fountain's
maw."
"You are a bad traveler," said Lady Mabel, "and seem never to have
with you the means of testing the truth of what you are told."
"I take with me a good stock of faith," said L'Isle, "and believe, or
seem to believe, all that I am told. This pleases these people
wonderfully well, and keeping them in good humor is the main point
just now. There is, however, near Estremoz, which place you passed
through coming hither, a curiosity of somewhat a similar kind. It is
a spring which is dry in winter, but pours out a considerable stream
in summer. Its waters are of so petrifying a quality, that the wheels
of the mills it works are said to be soon turned into stone."
"I trust, for your credit as a traveler," said Lady Mabel, "that you
will be able to say that you, for once, proved the truth or falsehood
of what you heard."
"I did, and found them incrusted with stone. But that is not so
curious as the prophetic spring of Xido, which foretells to the
rustics around a fruitful season, by pouring forth but little water,
or a year of scarcity by an abundant flow. These are little things;
but were I to run over each class of objects of curiosity or interest
this country affords, I would soon convince you that you were already
in a land of wonders and rare sights."
"But even here I am trammeled. Papa did not come out here to examine
the curiosities of the country, or to hunt out picturesque scenery,
Moorish antiquities, or Roman ruins, and I cannot go scampering over
the neighborhood with an escort of volunteers from the brigade or the
Light Dragoons. It is true that Mrs. Captain Howe, who is a great
_connoisseuse_ in nature and art, has promised to be my guide in
exploring the country as soon as she gets rid of her rheumatism. But
from the number of her flannel wrappers, I infer that there is no hope
of her soon extending her explorations beyond the walls of her room."
"You must indeed feel the want of a companion to free you from the
awkwardness of your situation; here with no company but those rude
comrades his majesty has sent out hither."
"My want is so urgent that were it not for my loyalty, I would now
exchange a crack regiment for a companionable woman."
"I am glad, then, to be able to tell you that a lady has arrived in
Elvas, who may be very useful in filling up this awkward gap in the
circle of your acquaintance!"
"A lady? An English lady? Who is she?"
"An English lady. One old enough to be your chaperon, and young enough
to be your companion. She has some other merits too, not the least of
which, in my estimation is that she professes to be a great friend of
mine."
"A crowning virtue, that," said lady Mabel.
"It does not blind me, however, to two or three faults, and a
misfortune she labors under."
"What then are her faults?"
"The first is, that she is, it must be confessed, rather simple."
"Simplicity may be a virtue. We will overlook that."
"Then she sometimes clips the king's English!"
"There is no statute against it, like clipping his coin."
"She is afflicted, moreover, with an inveterate love of sight-seeing."
"That is a positive virtue. I have fellow-feeling with her. She would
be no true woman if she ever lost her chance at a spectacle. But what
is her misfortune?"
"She is the wife of a commissary," said L'Isle with a very grave face.
"Why L'Isle," said Lord Strathern, "has Shortridge brought his wife to
Elvas?"
"Yes, my lord, they came last night. Yes, Lady Mabel; the woman who
marries a commissary can hardly escape being the wife of a knave!"
"But I really believe," said his lordship, "that our rascal is the
most honest fellow in the commissariat department."
"That is not saying much for his honesty."
"I hope for the honor of human nature," interposed Major Conway, "that
there are honest men among commissaries?"
"It is no imputation on human nature to think otherwise," said L'Isle;
"You might as soon hope there are honest men among pickpockets. For
some good reason or other, honest men cannot follow either trade."
"That is one of your prejudices, L'Isle," said Lord Strathern, "and in
them you are a true bigot. You are too hard upon poor Shortridge and
his brethren. Shortridge is a very good fellow, though a little vulgar
it is true. And he always cheats with a conscience, and so do many of
his brethren."
"I shall have no scruples of conscience in making use of Mrs.
Commissary, if I can," said Lady Mabel. "I hope she is of a sociable
temper?"
"Quite so. And moreover, I forgot one trait that will make her
particularly accessible to you. She is very fond of people of fashion,
and a title secures her esteem.
"Then she belongs to me, for I shall not be wanting in attention to
your newly arrived friend. How comes she to be your friend?"
L'Isle told Mrs. Shortridge's adventure in the Patriarchal church;
mentioned the straits she was now in for lodgings, and his intention
to yield his present quarters to her.
"Why Colonel L'Isle," exclaimed Lady Mabel, "you must be the very pink
of chivalry. I do not know which most to admire, your gallant rescue
of the dame, or your self-sacrificing spirit in finding her a home."
"You will make Shortridge jealous, L'Isle, by taking such good care of
his wife," said Lord Strathern.
"Our sharp friend has too much sense," answered L'Isle, "to be guilty
of such folly as that."
Major Conway setting the example, L'Isle now thought it time to take
his leave, and he returned to his quarters with the air of a man who
thought he had done a good day's work.
"I think," said Lord Strathern to his daughter, "that L'Isle is
improving in manners."
"His manners are good, Papa. Were they ever otherwise?"
"I mean that he is becoming more conciliatory, and more considerate of
other people. He has scarcely differed from me to-day, and certainly
did not undertake to set me right, or contradict me even once, a habit
he is _much_ addicted to, and very unbecoming in so young a man! It is
certainly, too, very kind of him to give up his comfortable quarters
to the Shortridges, in their distress, particularly as I know he
despises the man."
Now do not blunder on to the hasty conclusion, good reader, that
L'Isle, having, at first sight, plunged over head and ears in love
with Lady Mabel, had resolved to win and wear her with the least
possible loss of time; that he was now investing the fortress, about
to besiege it in form, and would hold himself in readiness to carry it
by storm on the first opportunity. He acknowledged to himself no such
intention; and he doubtless knew his own mind best. Without exactly
holding the opinion of Sir John, as set forth by his follower,
Bardolph, that a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife--he
had often strenuously maintained, in opposition to some love-stricken
comrade, that, in the midst of a bloody war, a soldier can give no
worse proof of devotion to the lady of his choice, than urging her to
become a promising candidate for early widowhood. He preached
exceedingly well on this text, and it is but fair to believe that he
would practice what he preached. No! in the interest he took in Lady
Mabel's situation, he was actuated by no selfish or personal
motives. He acquitted himself of that. Had he come across Lady Mabel's
old Lisbon coach, beset by robbers, in her journey through the
Alemtejo, he would have dashed in among them, sword in hand, like a
true gentleman, and a good knight. Now, when he saw her surrounded by
evils and embarrassments of a less tangible kind, the same spirit of
chivalry brought him promptly to her aid.
Lady Mabel lost no time in adding Mrs. Shortridge to the list of her
female acquaintances in Elvas, which, unlike that of her male friends
was so short that this new comer was the only one available as a
companion. This jewel of a companion, which elsewhere might have
escaped her notice, was now seized upon as a diamond of the first
water; and Mrs. Shortridge was happy and flattered to find herself the
associate of a lady of rank, not to speak of her other merits.
It is not always similarity of character that makes people friends. It
quite as often makes them rivals. To have what your companion wants,
and to need what he can afford you, is a better foundation for those
social partnerships, often dignified with the name of friendship. The
great talker wants a good listener; the sluggish or melancholic are
glad of a companion who will undertake the active duty of providing
conversation and amusement; he whose nature it is to lead, wants some
one who will follow; and the doubting man welcomes as a strong ally,
him who will decide for him. As Dogberry says, "when two men ride on a
horse, one must ride behind," and the social, compliant and admiring
temper of Mrs. Shortridge fitted in so well with the animated,
impulsive, and vigorous spirit of Lady Mabel, that something very like
friendship grew up between them.
Lady Mabel's habits now underwent a change, which proved that her late
mode of life, and her morning and evening _levees_ of epaulettes, had
been quite as much the result of necessity as of choice. Her father's
house was still much frequented by her gay and dashing comrades. But
whenever there was a large company to dinner, or any other cause
brought many of the gentlemen to head-quarters, she made a point of
having Mrs. Shortridge at hand to countenance and sustain her; and in
return she would often mount her horse early and canter into Elvas,
followed only by a groom, to shut herself up with Mrs. Shortridge for
a whole morning, doubtless in the enjoyment of those confidential
feminine chats, for which she had longed so much. On these occasions
the representatives of the ruder sex seldom gained admittance, except
that L'Isle would now and then drop in for an hour, he being too great
a favorite with Mrs. Shortridge to be excluded; and, for a time, he
showed no disposition to abuse his special privilege.
It was on one of these occasions that L'Isle discovered that with all
his assiduity in acquiring a thorough knowledge of the peculiar and
interesting land in which he had now spent more than four years--an
assiduity, on the result of which he much prided himself, and which
had done him good service in his profession--there was still one
important point that he had quite overlooked. He knew absolutely
nothing of the botany of this region, nor, indeed, of any other. He
made this discovery suddenly on hearing Lady Mabel express the
interest she felt in this science, and her hope of finding many
opportunities of pursuing it in a country whose Flora was so new to
her. He at once began to supply this omission by borrowing from her
half a dozen books on the subject. In two or three days he reappeared,
armed with a huge bunch of wild flowers and plants, and professed to
have mastered the technicalities sufficiently to enter at once on the
practical study of the science in the field. Unless he deceived
himself, he was an astonishing fast learner. Lady Mabel told him that
she had heard that _poeta nascitur_, and now she believed it from
analogy; for he was certainly born a botanist. He rebutted the sarcasm
by showing that he had the terms stamen, pistil, calix, corolla,
capsule, and a host of others at the tip of his tongue; though
possibly, had he been called upon to apply each in its proper place,
he would have been like a certain student of geometry we once knew,
who, by aid of a good memory alone, could demonstrate all Euclid's
theorems, without understanding one of them, provided the diagrams
were small enough to be hidden by his hand, so you could not detect
him in pointing to the wrong angle and line.
January was gone, and the earlier of the two springs that mark this
climate was opening beautifully. L'Isle displayed temptingly before
Lady Mabel's eyes the wild flowers he had collected during a laborious
morning spent on hill and plain, in wood and field, and urged her to
lose no time in taking the field too, and making collections for the
_hortus siccus_ of which she talked so much, but toward which she had
yet done nothing; while at the same time, she might, without trouble,
indoctrinate him in the mysteries of this beautiful branch of natural
history. Most of these flowers were new to her as living
specimens. Her botanical enthusiasm was roused at the sight of them,
and the offer of a pupil added to her zeal. When we know a little of
any thing, it is very pleasant to be applied to for instruction by the
ignorant, as it enables us to flatter ourselves that we know a great
deal. And it is only the more gratifying when our voluntary pupil is
otherwise well informed.
It was at once arranged that the party should take the field
to-morrow. Mrs. Shortridge, it is true, had no particular taste for
botany. If the flowers in her _bouquet_ were beautiful, or fragrant,
or both, she did not trouble herself about their history, names,
class, order, or alliances; but pleasant company, fresh air, exercise,
and new scenes were inducements enough for her.