He spent an industrious morning, making himself agreeable to his companion, while inspecting the resources of the place, and the day was well worn away when his guide and escort took leave of him at the posada.  His business here finished, he wished to leave Badajoz at once; and on looking for his groom, found him ensconced in the kitchen, providently dining on a rabbit, stuffed with olives, and draining a bottle of wine, baptized Valdepenas—­addressing the landlord’s tawny daughter with a flattering air, and smacking his lips approvingly, after each mouthful, whether solid or fluid, while he abused both food and wine in emphatic English, throwing in many back-handed compliments to the lady’s beauty, and she stood simpering by, construing his words by his manner.

On seeing his master enter hastily, Tom, who had laid in all the wine, and most of the food set before him, got up respectfully to receive his orders; while with a full mouth he mumbled out:  “Prayer and provender hinder no man’s journey.”

“You abridge the proverb in practice,” said L’Isle, “leaving out the prayer to gain time to take care of the provender.”  Then sitting down at the table, he took out a paper and began to note down what he had observed in Badajoz.  “There is nothing very tempting here,” said he presently, glancing his eye over Tom’s scanty leavings, “but a luncheon will not be amiss; so I will take what I can find, while you saddle the horses.”

It was late in the day when L’Isle left Badajoz; but instead of posting back to Elvas, as he had come from it, he rode slowly on, sometimes lost in thought, at times gazing on the scene around him.  Many objects along the road brought vividly back to him the incidents of that pleasant excursion, so lately taken in company with Lady Mabel.  Here she had turned her horse aside for a moment, to pluck some blossoms from this carob-tree, which stands alone on the sandy plain around it; here, on the bank of the Cayo, was the spot where she had pressed so close up beside him for protection, in the dark, on the first alarm of danger before them; there stood the old watch-tower, which they had examined together with interest, speculating on its history, lost in by-gone ages; crossing the stream here, further on, were the prints of her horses hoofs on the steep, pebbly bank, as she had turned suddenly from the road, to ride up to the mysterious old ruin.

Were these pleasant days over?  L’Isle knew that Lord Strathern had taken violent, perhaps lasting offence at his strictures; and he himself was too indignant at the summary way in which his commander had cut short his protest, and dismissed him and the subject, for him to make any conciliatory advances.  Knowing, too, Lady Mabel’s devotion to her father, and her tenacity where his character and dignity were concerned, there was no saying how much she might resent L’Isle’s offence, when it came to her knowledge.  He could hardly, just now at least, frequent headquarters on his former footing.