hearth, it was consumed in an instant. "Hyndford--Carmichael, Earl of
Hyndford! Ay; the glitter of the coronet has more charms for her eye
than a subaltern's epaulet; but I would not be my father's son, should I
think more of her after this. I will learn to forget her, as she has
forgotten me,--and this too shall perish!" He took the miniature from
his neck, and was about to crush it beneath his heel; but when the
well-known features met his eye, his fierce resolution melted away: he
averted his head, and replaced it in his bosom, while a sad and subdued
feeling took possession of his heart.
"I cannot destroy," thought he, "what has been so long a solace, and an
object almost of worship to me. Even were she the bride of another, as
perhaps she is at this very hour, I would yet wear and bear it for her
sake, in memory of the days that are passed away and the thoughts I had
nourished for years--ay, for years,--since the days we gathered the wild
rose and the heather-bell on the bonnie braes I now almost wish never to
behold again."
For the first hour or two, he felt as if every cord that bound him to
happiness and existence was severed and broken, and an acute feeling of
mental agony swelled his breast almost to bursting. His Highland pride
came, however, to his aid, and roused within him feelings equally
bitter, though perhaps less distressing; and starting up, he strode
hastily about the apartment, and emptied more than once a large horn of
Malaga, from a pig-skin which lay on a side-table near him, drinking
deeply to drown care, and allay the wild tumult of his thoughts. But
the wine was as water, and he quaffed it without effect.
The baseness of her desertion grew every moment more vivid; and how
openly must she have renounced him, when even the public journals had
become aware of her intended alliance, which must have been a measure of
her own free will, as her father Sir Allan would never control her
affections, and the age of forced marriages was passed away, or existed
only in the pages of romance. Love and jealousy, sorrow, pride, and a
feeling of helplessness at the great distance which separated him from
Britain, passed rapidly through his mind; and during the mental agony
and tumult of the first few hours, he forgot Catalina and the honourable
struggles he had made with himself to withstand the witchery of her
beauty, until the recollection of it rushed fully upon him, raising him
in his own estimation, and lessening the fickle Alice in an equal
degree.
He hastily threw open his baggage-trunk, and producing writing
materials, commenced a letter, in which he meant to upbraid her
bitterly, and take a haughty and sad farewell of her for ever. But so
great was his agitation, so fast did his ideas crowd upon each other,
and so much were they mingled together and confused, that he wrote only
rhapsodies in incoherent sentences, and sheet after sheet was filled,
torn up, and committed to the flames; until at last it flashed upon his
mind that there were no means at present of transmitting a letter, and
he abandoned the attempt altogether. Whenever he thought of Catalina,
he felt more consoled for the loss of Alice; but yet the deep-rooted
affection, the cherished sentiment of years which he felt for her, was a
very different feeling from the temporary admiration with which the
Spanish lady had impressed him; but ideas of a prouder, and perhaps more
healing kind, came to his aid.
"I tread the path which leads to the greatest of all earthly
honours,--even the passage to the throne lies through the tented field;
and although I look not for that, the ambitious Alice may yet repent
having slighted the love of Ronald Stuart of Lochisla. We know not what
fate may have in store, or what the great lottery of life may cast up
for me. Alice! oh, how false, how fickle, and how heartless! Like twin
tendrils of the same tree, like little birds in the same nest, we grew
unto each other,--our love increasing with our size and years; and yet,
after all the tender sentiments we have exchanged and the happiness we
have enjoyed, she has thus cruelly abandoned me, preferring the glitter
of a title to the love of a brave and honest heart! But let her go; she
will hear of me yet," he said almost aloud, while his sparkling eye fell
on his claymore, which lay upon the table, "for this is the land where
honour and fame are within the grasp of a reckless and daring soldier,
for reckless of life and limb will I be from this hour. But I may fall
unhonoured and unknown, as thousands have already done, as thousands
more shall do; yet Alice, though perhaps she may drop a tear for me,
will never be upbraided with the sight of my tomb!"
Long and silently he continued brooding over the cursed intelligence,
which every moment grew, in his fancy, more like some vision of a
disturbed slumber, or some horrible enigma; and the hour of twelve
tolled from the belfry of San Juan, yet he thought not of rest. He had
grown careless of all external objects, and sat with his brow leaning on
his hand, absorbed in his own heart-corroding fancies. His lamp sunk
down in the socket and expired,--the stars and the pale moon, sailing
apparently through clouds of gauze, glimmered through the tall casement
into the gloomy chamber, and poor Ronald still sat there, revolving and
re-revolving the matter in his mind, which became a prey, by turns, to
the very opposite sentiments of love and sorrow, pride, revenge,
indignation, and ambition.
* * * * *
He awoke suddenly, and found that he had been asleep in his chair. The
bright light of the morning sun was streaming between the dark hangings
of the lofty windows, and the tolling bells of the neighbouring churches
reminded him that it was Sunday. The instant he awoke, the aching
memories of the past night rushed upon his mind; but he thought of the
matter with a little more composure, and the presence of Donna Catalina,
all blushes, smiles, and beauty, when the morning was further advanced,
contributed very considerably to the re-establishment of his serenity,
but her keen eye observed that he was ill at ease. His usual vivacity
was gone; he appeared much abstracted, seldom speaking except of his
departure, and in a tone of more than usual regret. They had previously
arranged to visit the church of San Juan on that day, that Ronald might
see high Mass performed, and hear the sub-prior, whom the citizens
considered a miracle of learning and piety, preach.
Catalina retired to don her walking attire, while Ronald, from the
balcony, gazed listlessly into the street, scarcely observing what was
passing there. Peasantry from the neighbourhood were crowding in,
attired in dresses at once graceful and picturesque; the men wearing,
some the close vest, the broad sombrero, knee-breeches, and large
mantle, while others were without it in a loose jacket, with a sash of
ample size and gaudy colours tied round their waists, and having on
their heads long slouched caps. Many--almost all--wore knives displayed
somewhere about their person, and all had a peculiar swagger in their
walk, which seemed not ungraceful. Bright-eyed women in their black
hoods or mantillas,--priests in their dark robes of sack-cloth, their
waists encircled with a knotted cord,--graceful peasant girls, their
short bunchy petticoats displaying the most splendid ankles in the
world,--sturdy muleteers with their long whips,--and market-women from
the south bearing loads of butter, milk, and fruit on their heads, were
crowding the street and thronging about the dark piazzas in every
direction, and a loud gabble of tongues in Spanish was heard on all
sides. Clouds of smoke arose from cigars, as every man had one in his
mouth; and here and there, under some of the piazzas, might be seen a
few muleteers and olive-cheeked girls, dancing a fandango or bolero
about the door of a wine-house to the sound of the guitar, the
tambarine, and the castanets.
"How very different is all this from the sober gravity which marks our
Scottish sabbath-day!" thought Ronald, as he glanced languidly around
the Plaza. Notwithstanding the mental excitement under which he
laboured, the chain of ideas recalled to his memory a few lines of a
poem he had once read, and which he now repeated to himself,--
"O Scotland! much I love thy tranquil dales;
But most on Sabbath eve, when low the sun
Slants through the upland copse, 'tis my delight,
Wandering and stopping oft to hear the song
Of kindred praise arise from humble roofs;
Or when the simple service ends, to hear
The lifted latch, and mark the grey-haired man,
The father and the priest, walk forth alone
Into his garden plat or little field,
To commune with his God in secret prayer."[*]
[*] "The Sabbath: a Poem.". Second Edition. Blackwood, Edinburgh,
1805.
This was one of the many passages in it, which were impressed upon his
memory, and he remembered, with peculiar bitterness of feeling, that it
was with Alice Lisle he had first perused the pages of that now
forgotten poem, seated by her side in one of the green birchen glades
through which the Isla flowed towards the Tay.
The heavy clang of a charger's hoofs broke in upon his reverie, and
raising his eyes, he saw an officer of the light cavalry ride furiously
into the Plaza, with his uniform covered with dust, and his horse and
accoutrements dripping with white foam. Casting a rapid glance around
him, he spurred at once beneath the balcony over which Ronald leaned,
knowing him to be a British officer from his uniform.
He checked his horse by the curb-stone of the pavement.
"Evelyn--Lieutenant Evelyn, 13th Light Dragoons," said he, introducing
himself. "Mr. Stuart, I presume?"
"Yes,--Stuart, of the 92nd Regiment," replied Ronald bowing. "I believe
I have had the pleasure of seeing you before?"
"Ay, near La Nava, the evening we drove in Dombrouski's advanced
picquet."
"I now remember. But what word from the front?"
"Oh! the old story,--a countermarch. Campaigning is like a game at
chess: we have been ordered to retire into Portugal, and the second
division will be in full retreat by this time. I suppose they will come
down the other bank of the Guadiana."
"This movement, likely, has some relation to the recent investment of
Ciudad Rodrigo. You will, of course, have heard of that?"
"Our works are carried within a very short distance of theirs. It is
said that Marshal Marmont imagines it will hold out for several weeks
yet; before which time he will give Lord Wellington battle, and attempt
its relief. His lordship appears to be preparing, as troops from all
quarters are concentrating under his command; so that, should Ciudad
Rodrigo not soon capitulate, we may expect a battle with Marmont in a
few days."
"Of course it must fall; Marmont will never attempt its relief. But
will you not dismount and refresh yourself? You appear to have ridden
far."
"I regret that it is impossible to dismount; I have tarried too long
already. I am carrying despatches from Sir Rowland Hill to the rear,
and I must be far beyond Albuquerque before night. My orders were to
ride without drawing bridle; but my nag is failing already. Just before
I left Fuente del Maistre, an orderly dragoon brought up the mail-bags
from Lisbon; and a Major Campbell of yours, an immensely big man, but a
soldier-like fellow, who insisted that he had seen me in Egypt, although
I never was there, gave me a letter for you, that I might deliver it, on
my route, at Merida."
"I thank you," replied Ronald in a scarcely articulate voice, while his
fluttering; heart became a prey to alternate hopes and fears.
"I trust it will contain good news for you," said the horseman,
unbuckling his sabre-tache. "Our letters here are like angels' visits,
'few and far between,' the post delivery being less regular than within
sight of St. Paul's. By the by, how is that wound you received the
morning we marched from this? I heard something of the story, and would
be glad to hear it all, had I time; but there are so many hard knocks
going now, that one cares little about them. Your arm is still in the
sling, I see."
"I mean to discard it to-day. I am quite recovered now, and am about to
rejoin immediately. But the letter?"
"Ay, here it is," replied Evelyn, raising himself in his stirrups, and
handing the letter to Ronald, who received it by stooping over the
balcony, and knew at once the large round family seal, and the
hand-writing of his father.
"Alice, Alice! Evelyn, is there not another?" he groaned aloud in the
bitterness of his spirit.
"Another?" laughed the cavalry officer, who heard him but imperfectly.
"No, by Jupiter! and I am sorry the one you have received does not seem
to be in the small running-hand of a fair lady; but it may contain what
makes ample amends, you know,--a remittance from the old gentleman
through Gordon, your paymaster, who is as jolly a fellow as ever
broached a pipe or a pig-skin of wine. Ah! 'tis well when the old boy
bleeds liberally. But now, so ho! for the road again! I would advise
you to look out sharply while here. D'Erlon, the moment he becomes
aware of our temporary retreat, will throw forward some of his cavalry,
and regain the places he has lost. The low grounds by the river-side
afford great advantages for a concealed movement, and you run a risk of
being taken prisoner: the idea struck me as I entered the town a few
minutes ago."
"How far is the division from this?" asked Ronald, impatiently awaiting
the other's departure, that he might peruse the letter; "a day's march,
think you?"
"Three, perhaps; Fuente del Maistre is a long way off. Remember that
you must be careful what kind of guide you employ, should you require
one in rejoining. And now, adieu."
"Adieu!" echoed Ronald. The other gave his horse the spur, let his
reins drop, and was round the corner of the Plaza, out of sight in an
instant.
Feeling all that trembling eagerness and indescribable delight which the
arrival of a first letter from home, after a long absence, infuses into
the heart, Ronald tore it open, but for some minutes was baffled in his
attempts to read by an envious mist or film, which seemed to intercept
his sight and prevented him from proceeding further than the date, which
was upwards of a month back. The letter ran thus, and the ideas and
style of the good old gentleman were observable in every line of it:
_Lochisla, February_ 28*th*, 1812.
"MY DEAR BOY,
"I received your letters dated from Lisbon and Portalagre in due course,
and cannot find words to express how overjoyed I was to understand by
them that you were well, and did not feel the fatigue of long marches.
Ronald, my son, may God protect you! You are very dear to me
indeed,--dearer even than the little ones that sleep in the old
kirk-yard. I can scarce get on further, for the salt and hot tears are
filling my eyes, and it is no common emotion which makes a stern old
man, like me, weep. We are living much in the old way here at the
tower, with the exception that your absence has made a sad blank in the
little establishment. My dear boy, I am very lonely now, and it is
grievous when a man feels himself so in his old age. Your gentle
mother, and her four little boys, are with the angels in heaven; the
green grass covers their sunny ringlets, and you alone were spared me,
but only to be exposed to the dangers of a soldier's life,--dangers
which make my heart shrink within me for your safety.
* * * * *
"How very quiet is all around me at the moment I am writing! The bright
evening sun is streaming through the mullions of the old hall window on
the hearth, where you used to play when a little child, and your two old
companions, Carril and Odin, are stretched upon the rug; they often
whine, and look sadly in my face, or at your bonnet and gun in the
corner, as if they still missed you. The noble hounds! I believe that
although six months have elapsed since you were here, they have not
forgotten you. The wind scarcely stirs the thickets about the tower,
and all is very calm and still,--all save the beating of my own anxious
heart, and its pulsations are audible.
All our friends and dependants here desire to be remembered to you and
to Evan Iverach; and I am assured danger will never visit you, if the
prayers of brave and honest hearts can avert it; for the people at the
clachan, and in all the glen, pray for you nightly and daily,
particularly old Donald. He does not pipe about so much as he used to
do, but pays more attention than ever he did to the whisky kegs in
Janet's pantry. Poor man! I forgive his melancholy; like me, he mourns
the absence of an only son.
"Corrie-oich and I have quarrelled again, about a fight which took place
at the last fair, between his herdsman and Alpin Oig. I would fain
harry the lair of the old fox, and give his turreted house to the
flames, as my father did in 1746. I would teach his fellows to beware
how they spoke to a servant or follower of mine.
"I am likely to have a row with Inchavon also. He has trespassed more
than once on our marches in his shooting excursions, in which he is
always accompanied now by the Earl of Hyndford, who, it is said, is to
be married to Miss Lisle, an old flame of yours, whom I trust you have
forgotten by this time, as she has undoubtedly done you.
"Inchavon's son has received a pair of colours in your regiment, and has
left Perthshire to join; you will, of course, keep him at a due
distance, and as you value my paternal love, make neither a friend nor
companion of him. Forget not the words your gallant old grandfather
used, after cutting down Colonel Lisle at Falkirk: 'Never trust a Lisle
of Inchavon, until your blade is through his body.'
"Sir Allan has revived his old claim to the lands and vacant peerage of
Lysle, and Hyndford, who is one of our representative peers, is using
all his interest for him in the upper house. Let him fish for any rank
he pleases; our blood, my boy, is nobler than his own. We have been
Stuarts of Lochisla since the days of our royal ancestor Robert the
Second, and I seek no other title.
"By the by, that scoundrel AEneas Macquirk, the W.S. in Edinburgh, some
time ago procured my name, as cautioner for a very large sum, to a deed
connected with some cursed insurance business, of which I knew nothing.
I fear the fellow is tottering in his circumstances; and should he fail,
I will be utterly ruined, and the old tower, which has often defied an
armed host, will, perhaps, be surrendered to some despicable Lowland
creditor. To a Highlander, who knows nothing of legal chicanery, what a
curse those harpies of the law are! Remember me to John Cameron of
Fassifern, your colonel; he is a brave and good officer, and a true
Highland gentleman. Be attentive to your duties, and never shrink
from---- But I need not say that; I know that you will do what man dare
do, and will never disgrace the house you spring from, or the gallant
regiment to which you belong. Good by to you, my boy! let me hear from
you soon and often; and that He, whose presence is everywhere, may ever
bless and protect you, will be always the earnest prayer of your
desolate old father,
"IAN STUART."
*CHAPTER XII.*
*THE CONDE.*
"The anthem rang; for on the heavenward air
'_Gloria in excelsis_' swept along,
From voices soft and forms divinely fair,
While the lone echoes did the notes prolong,
Swelling the numbers of the sweet angelic song."
_Scenes among the Mountains_, canto i.
So much was Ronald engrossed in the perusal of this letter, which so
fully displays the eccentric manners of his father, that it was not
until he had withdrawn his eyes from its pages that he became aware of
the presence of Catalina, who stood by his side, veiled and robed in her
velvet mantilla for church.
"You have received a letter from your home? I trust--I hope--there is
nothing in it to cause you sorrow. Why do you sigh so very sadly?" said
she, in a tone of thrilling tenderness.
"Indeed I cannot say that its contents are calculated to instil any
other sentiments than sorrow," replied Ronald, depositing it in his
breast; "and I fear, Catalina, that the last day I shall pass with--with
you, will be a very unhappy one."
"The last day!" she repeated sorrowfully. "And are you still resolved on
going so soon?"
"My arm, you perceive, is perfectly well now," replied the officer,
tossing away the sling in which it hung; "and it is indispensable, if I
would save my honour from disagreeable surmises, that I rejoin my
regiment. Dearest Catalina! a hundred other circumstances, of which you
are ignorant, compel me to leave you,--to leave you perchance for ever."
While he spoke, a passionate flush gathered on his cheek, and passing
his arm around the waist of the yielding girl, he drew her gently
towards him; yet even the feeling of delight which he experienced at
that moment, mingled with a sensation of anger at the faithlessness of
Alice Lisle. To revenge himself, he pressed his lips a second time to
the soft and burning cheek of the beautiful Spaniard, and felt his blood
fly like lightning through his veins, while he watched the long lashes
which modestly shaded the brilliance of her eyes, and read the smile of
pleasure and inexpressible sweetness that played around her finely
formed mouth.
A step was heard on the staircase.
"_Santa Maria! Senor mio, el senor Gobernador_; my uncle the prior!"
she whispered, starting from Ronald's encircling arm. "Oh, 'tis only my
gossiping cousin," she added with a smile, as Inesella de Truxillo swept
into the apartment, with a long lace veil reaching from her stately head
nearly to her feet, enveloping her tall and dashing figure.
"Pho! I fear I have interrupted some very gallant and tender scene.
How very unlucky! Catalina, _mi queredo_, how you blush! Your veil and
long glossy ringlets are all sadly disordered. Indeed, senor, you have
quite turned the poor girl's head, and I fear we shall have some unhappy
brawl, should my brother the Conde de Truxillo hear of it. He is one of
Catalina's most passionate admirers, and we expect him here shortly."
"Inesella, I thought you were my uncle the prior," faltered Catalina,
blushing with confusion.
"Our uncle, the padre?" cried the gay girl with a loud laugh. "_O madre
de Dios!_ do my little feet, which our citizens of Merida admire so
much, make so great a noise as your old gobernador's? besides, he never
leaves his room. _Mi queredo_, you compliment me! But you must
remember that I am considered the best waltzer in Madrid, and the
cavaliers there pretend to be very excellent judges. My poor cousin,
you are very much abashed; allow me to arrange your curls. But you
should not be flirting here with a young _officiale_ instead of being at
mass, and _el Gobernador_ should give you a sermon for doing so. But the
bells have ceased to toll, and we shall be late; 'tis fully five
minutes' walk from here to the porch of San Juan's church. So let us
begone at once, and use our joint endeavours to make you, senor, a
convert to the true faith."
Ronald replied only by an unmeaning smile; and taking his sword and
bonnet, prepared to accompany the young ladies. They were followed by
Evan Iverach and Pedro Gomez, carrying camp-stools for their
accommodation, the church (as usual in Spain) not being fitted up with
pews; so that all who do not provide themselves with seats, are obliged
to remain either on their feet or on their knees.