While Ronald was doubting what he should do, another man appeared and begged that he would walk up and remain till the colonel returned.

Handing the bridle to his attendants with directions to them to wait for him, he threw himself off his horse, and followed the servant through the dark smoky kitchen to the stairs leading to the upper floor. His heart beat more quickly than usual, for he had a hope, though a faint one, that he was about once more to meet Edda Armytage, yet again he thought it very improbable that Colonel Armytage would bring her and her mother, accustomed as they had been to all the luxuries of life, into a part of the country in which travelling was so inconvenient and dangerous. Still they were in Spain. Of that Mrs Edmonstone had a.s.sured Glover. He sprang up the steps. The door was opened. He walked in with more than usual precipitation. At one end of the room were several persons with cloaks over their shoulders, and, hat in hand, sitting silent and solemn, evidently waiting the return of the commissioner. At the further end, in the deep window recess, sat two ladies. The back of one was turned towards him. The other was looking down at a piece of work on which she was engaged. Though jaded and looking very sad, her countenance was, he was certain, that of Mrs Armytage. His quick step roused both the ladies. They turned round.

In an instant Edda's hand was placed in his. The rich blood mantled in her cheeks, her eyes sparkled with pleasure. She forgot everything but the happiness of again meeting him. Mrs Armytage received him most cordially. The Spaniards looked on at what was taking place, and twirled their moustachios. They thought the young stranger officer a very happy fellow. After the first greetings were over, and Ronald had explained how he came to be at the place, Mrs Armytage told him that Colonel Armytage had met with considerable pecuniary losses, and that when he received the appointment he now held, he wished her to accompany him, and that Edda had insisted on not being left behind.

"We knew that there were inconveniences to be encountered, though we did not suppose that there were any dangers to be feared to which we would not gladly submit for the sake of accompanying Colonel Armytage, who so much requires our care," observed Mrs Armytage. "The inconveniences are more ridiculous than disagreeable, and I fully believe Edda enjoys them; and as to dangers, we have found none hitherto, and rather look for them to add zest to the interest of the journey."

Mrs Armytage went on speaking in this strain for some time, when she became very grave. Ronald suspected that, although she might not have been unwilling to come, it was not only her husband's state of health which had induced her to accompany him. He knew how selfish and tyrannical Colonel Armytage always was, and he suspected that he had not given his wife the choice of remaining behind. Edda, as she watched her mother's countenance, grew silent, and a shade of melancholy also stole over her features. Mrs Armytage at last spoke.

"We are truly glad to see you again, Mr Morton, and you know how high you stand in both Edda's estimation and mine. Nothing you have ever done has forfeited our regard, but I dread that when Colonel Armytage returns he will not treat you in the way that we would desire. You know that he is irritable, and that when he has taken up a prejudice it is difficult to eradicate it. He has not got over the objections which he formerly expressed to you. Earnestly do I wish that he would. But you are generous and n.o.ble-minded; you will not think unkindly of us because one we are bound to obey treats you unjustly. I know that I describe my daughter's feelings, and I speak thus because I feel that it is due to you to say it."

While her mother was speaking, Edda looked up imploringly at Ronald. He could not help perceiving that her countenance wore an expression of tenderness and love towards him, and it was a sore trial for him to promise compliance with the unjust demands which her father might make on him. Mrs Armytage had spoken as she felt she was bound to do. In her heart she rebelled against her husband's commands. Edda was old enough both to judge and act for herself, she considered. She had perfect confidence in her sense and discretion. Scarcely conscious of what she was doing, she rose from her seat and went to her room, leaving her daughter and Ronald together. The window recess was very deep; Edda had retired into it, and was thus concealed from the view of the people at the other end of the room. Ronald stood with his back towards them.

"Edda, I have never ceased to think of you, to ground all my expectations of earthly happiness on the hopes of making you mine," he exclaimed in a low deep voice. "You require no a.s.surances of my love and my constancy; then promise me that you will not consent to become another's whatever may occur. I dare not ask you to disobey your father, and marry me against his will; but for your own sake, for mine, I do entreat you not to yield to his authority so far as to marry one you cannot love. I have hopes, great hopes that his objections to me may be removed; but till they are so, I dread lest he should compel you to give your hand to some one else. The promise I ask will give you strength to resist any unjust exercise of authority. No one holds in more respect than I do the duty of the obedience of a child to a parent; but in this case it would, I am certain, work woe to you, sorrow to your mother, and ultimate regret to your father. You will be firm, Edda?

Promise me."

"Indeed, indeed I will," answered Miss Armytage. "Most faithfully and unreservedly I promise you that."

At that moment there was a commotion among the people at the other end of the room, and a sc.r.a.ping of their feet on the floor as they rose from their seats. They simultaneously began to bow with a formal air; the noise they had created made Ronald turn his head, and as he did so, he saw an officer in full uniform entering the room, followed by a number of persons in various costumes. A second glance told Ronald that Colonel Armytage was before him.

Ronald at once advanced to meet him, and said, "I am an officer of his Majesty's ship 'Imperious.' I was sent by my captain to communicate with the people in this district, and hearing that you were in the neighbourhood, I considered it my duty to inform you of what I have done."

"In that light I am perfectly ready to receive you sir," said the colonel, with a stiff bow. "But you will have the goodness to proceed at once with your narrative: you see that there are a number of people waiting to transact business with me, and that my time is short."

Ronald felt a disagreeable sensation at his heart as the colonel was speaking, but he overcame his feelings, and at once entered on the business which had brought him to the place.

The manner of Colonel Armytage was stiff and ungracious in the extreme.

Ronald had done everything so well, and gave so clear an account of all the arrangements he had made, that the colonel could not do otherwise than express himself satisfied. At length he rose, and said in a formal way, "I think now, sir, our business is ended. You will, I conclude, at once return to your ship, and express to Lord Claymore my satisfaction at the arrangements which have been made. His lordship will, however, see the necessity of leaving to me the task which he has. .h.i.therto performed so efficiently."

Edda had not dared to stir from her seat, but had continued with her head bent down over some work, only venturing at times to cast a furtive glance at her father and Ronald, to ascertain how they got on together.

Mrs Armytage soon afterwards joined her, and continued equally silent, her countenance exhibiting still greater anxiety and nervousness.

The colonel ceased speaking, and looked as if he expected the young officer to make his bow and walk straight out at the door, but Ronald felt that he must risk everything rather than take his departure without exchanging another word with Edda. He therefore, as soon as he rose, observing that Colonel Armytage had beckoned to one of the Spaniards to advance, said quietly, "I will pay my respects to Mrs and Miss Armytage before I go."

Before the colonel could reply he had crossed the room to them.

"Mrs Armytage, whatever happens, I entreat you to think favourably of me," he said; and then he took Edda's hand, willingly given him, and he whispered, "Farewell, dearest; we shall meet, I trust, ere long, again, when I have hopes that some of the difficulties which now surround us may be surmounted. Your promise, though we were interrupted before the whole was given, has afforded joy and contentment to my heart."

"Oh, but I give it entirely," Edda exclaimed, eagerly. "No power shall make me break it, believe me Ronald."

"You will be benighted, sir, and brigandage is rife," exclaimed Colonel Armytage, looking up with an angry glance, which Edda observed, but Ronald did not.

"Go, go!" she exclaimed. "Heaven protect you?"

Morton shook hands with Mrs Armytage, bowed to the colonel, and walked with as much dignity as he could command out of the room.

He threw himself on his horse, and rather than remain in the place he determined to ride back to a village he had pa.s.sed on his way there, where he might find refreshment and rest both for man and beast during the night.

As Ronald pa.s.sed the group of Spaniards, he saw one of those who had come in with Colonel Armytage stare very hard at him. It struck him at the moment that he recollected the man's features. He had just mounted his horse, when the person in question rushed down the steps, and grasped him by the hand.

"I am ashamed, my brave friend, that I should not at once have known you!" exclaimed the Spaniard. "But we both of us look to much greater advantage than we did on the day we stormed the fort, when we were covered with gunpowder and blood. But you must not go; come to my house, it is not many leagues off. You can be spared from your ship for a day or two longer."

Ronald thanked his friend Don Josef very warmly, but a.s.sured him that it was his duty to make the best of his way to the coast, as the ship would be standing in to take him.

"How unfortunate!" said the Spaniard. "I have to see your commissioner--he seems a very great man--or I would accompany you all the way, and we might stop at the houses of some of my friends. Still I must go a little way with you. Wait a moment; I will send for my horse: it is a poor animal--the only one those thieving French have left me.

But a day of retribution is coming, and soon, I hope."

The steed was brought out; it was a far better animal than Ronald expected to see. The Spaniard mounted, and the cavalcade moved on.

The village was soon left behind. Ronald's new friend, however, had not accompanied him more than a league when he said he must return, or he should miss his interview altogether with the commissioner. He had given Morton during that time a great deal of information as to the state of the country, and the temper of the people generally. One feeling seemed to pervade all cla.s.ses--the deepest hatred of their late master, and a desire to be free.

"Better times may arrive, the country may be restored to peace, prosperity may be her lot, and then I trust that you will come and visit me at my home, and receive the thanks of my wife and children for the benefit you conferred on me."

Saying this with the usual complimentary Spanish expressions, Don Josef turned his horse's head, and rode back towards the village from which they had started, while Ronald continued his journey.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

A SPANISH INN--THE SPANIARDS AROUSED TO ARMS--RONALD HEADS A GUERILLA BAND--EDDA RESCUED BY RONALD.

The sun had set some short time when Ronald, with his companions, reached the village where the guide told him he could obtain shelter and refreshment. The village itself was small and mean, and the only house of entertainment it possessed offered but few attractions to the travellers to remain there. However, as their beasts required rest, they were compelled to dismount, and while the guide with the boys of the inn led the animals into the stables, Ronald and the two seamen walked into the common room, which served as dining-hall, kitchen, and apparently the sleeping-place of the family, as well as of a numerous family of fowls. A very unattractive dame, who presided over the culinary department of the establishment, was now engaged in preparing supper for a very mixed and somewhat suspicious-looking company, who were seated at a long table, on benches at one side of the room. None of them rose as the strangers entered, and the few who condescended to pay them any attention scowled at them from under their brows, as if resenting their appearance as an intrusion. Ronald was very little moved by the want of courtesy with which he was received, but, walking up to the presiding genius of the place, he inquired, in the best Spanish he could command, whether he and his followers could have beds and food. The old woman looked up with a sinister expression without speaking, while she continued stirring the pot boiling on the huge wood fire. Her eyes were bleared with the smoke, and her face was wrinkled and dried, with a few white hairs straggling over her brow, while the long yellow tusks which protruded beyond her thin lips gave her a peculiarly hag-like look. Ronald repeated his question.

"Food?--yes, and good enough for any one," she answered in a low croaking voice; "but for beds, the enemy carried them off, and everything in the house. There is s.p.a.ce enough and to spare, upstairs, for a taller man than you to stretch his legs. You can go and look when you have a mind; your valise will serve you as a pillow, and a sack with some straw must be your mattress. Many a better man has slept in a worse bed."

"I do not doubt it," answered Ronald, calmly. "My men and I will manage well enough, but we are hungry, and shall be glad of food."

"All in good time," said the old woman, somewhat softening her tone, and pleased at being spoken to in her own language. "You may carry your baggage upstairs, and select any corner you like for your sleeping-place. The girl will be in and give you a light presently.

See that there are no holes in the roof above you, in case it should rain. You will find it warmer too if you avoid those in the floor beneath you."

The old woman said this evidently with serious good-will. Ronald thanked her, and directly afterwards a stout buxom girl came from the further end of the hall, with a bra.s.s oil lamp in her hand. Taking the advice of the old woman, Ronald went upstairs to select a corner where he and his party might rest a night. The apartment consisted of the entire upper floor, but as the old woman had warned him, it contained not a particle of furniture, though, from its appearance, there was little doubt that there would be a large number of inhabitants. In several places through the roof he could see the stars shining, while the faint rays of light, and odours anything but faint, which came up through the floor, showed the numerous holes and rents which time had made in the boards.

"This is a rum place for our lieutenant to sleep in," observed Bob Doull to Job; "and as to the gentry below there, they are as cut-throat a crew as I ever set eyes on. I'll not let his valise go out of my hands, for it would be whipped up pretty smartly by one of these fellows, and we should never see more of it. Looking at the land from aboard the frigate, I never should have thought it was such an outlandish sort of a country. Should you, Job?"

"Can't say much for their manners. May be they are better than they look," answered the elder seaman; "but if it came to a scrimmage, I can't say but what I wouldn't mind tackling a dozen of them."

These remarks were made while Morton was taking a survey of the unpromising apartment. It had apparently been used as a barrack by the French when, not long ago, they occupied the village, and very little trouble had since been taken to clean it out. Morton asked the girl if his surmise was not correct.

"Yes, the demons! they have been here, and Heaven's curse go with them!"

she answered, with startling fierceness. "It was dark when you rode in, or you would have seen the number of houses burnt down, vineyards and orange-groves rooted up for firewood; but that was not all the harm they did. Woe, unutterable woe, they inflicted on thousands. I had a lover, to whom I was betrothed; they slew him, and me they rendered wretched.

But I need not tell my own griefs. Thousands have suffered as much as I have. There, senor, that corner you will find the freest from inconvenience. Place your valise and saddle-bags there--they will be safe. We are honest, though our accursed foes have made us poor indeed."

The poor girl's dark eyes flashed fire as she spoke. Ronald felt sure that he might trust her entirely. He ordered Bob and Job, therefore, to deposit his scanty baggage in the corner indicated, and to follow him below.

"What! does the lieutenant think he'll ever see them again if we does?"

observed Bob.

"Orders is orders," answered Job; "but just you keep a bright look out on the stair while we're below, and as soon as we've stowed away some grub, we'll take it watch and watch, and go up and sit on 'em. The Dons will find it a hard job to carry them off then, I'll allow."

Satisfied with their arrangements, the two seamen followed their officer. He took his seat at one end of the table, and, as he did so, he fancied the other guests seemed to regard him with more friendly glances than before. Not a minute had elapsed before Maria placed before him a smoking puchero (a dish to be found from one end of Spain to the other, composed of various sorts of meats minced with spices).

There was a soup also, of a reddish tinge, from being coloured with saffron, and sausages rather too strong of garlic, and very white bread, and two dishes of vegetables, one of which was of garbanzos, a sort of haricot beans. There was wine also, and brandy; indeed, the inhabitants must have managed cleverly to hide their stores from their invaders to enable them to produce so good a supply. Job and Bob did not conceal their astonishment; the viands suited their taste, and they did ample justice to them.