"What! do the rascals talk of us in that way? even while we are protecting them," exclaimed Lord Strathern, springing from his chair.

"We have spent more money among them than their beggarly country is worth in fee simple; and they are no more thankful than if we had occupied it as enemies. I wish they had among them again, for a few weeks, that one-handed _Loison_ with his cut-throat bands, or pious _Junot_, who loved church plate so well."

"It is bad enough to be robbed by their enemies, they say," suggested L'Isle, "but they did not expect it from their friends."

"Pooh," said Lord Strathern, "the Portuguese, of all people, ought to know what real military license is. The French taught them that. As for our fellows, what if they do at times drink a little more wine than they pay for, or even take a lamb or kid from the flocks they protect, or kiss a wench before she has consented; is that any thing to make a hubbub about? The lads should be paid for drinking their muddy _vinho verde_, and as for the girls, all the trouble comes of their ignorance of our tongue, so that they have to be talked to by signs."

"You must be jesting, my lord. To overlook small offences is to license greater."

"I license none; I punish whatever is clearly proved, but will not play grand Inquisitor, and hunt out every little peccadillo. With your notions, L'Isle, you would bring the men to confession every morning and make the service worse than purgatory. Must I answer for it if a girl squeaks out, half in jest, and half in earnest?"

L'Isle was provoked to see that Lord Strathern was laughing at him, and said, earnestly, "You cannot have forgotten, my lord, the state of the army at the end of the campaign. Little has yet been done to bring this brigade up to the mark, and little will be achieved by it in the coming campaign in its present state. Now is the time to check the licentious spirit by making some severe examples."

"I will do no such thing," said Lord Strathern, coolly. "The occasion does not call for it. We will be in the field shortly, and want all the bayonets we can muster. The brigade is too weak to spare men from the ranks to put into irons."

"I did not suppose," said L'Isle, "that the warning my Lord Wellington gave us not long since, would be so soon forgotten."

L'Isle alluded to the circular letter Wellington had addressed to his subordinates, at the end of the campaign, in which he had politely dubbed half of his officers idlers, whose habitual neglect of duty suffered their commands to run into ruffianism. Perhaps their commander was suffering under a fit of indigestion when he wrote it.

It certainly caused a general heartburning among his officers. Lord Strathern, among others, had found it hard to digest, and now angrily denounced it unjust.

"Well, my lord," said L'Isle, with more zeal than discretion, "by the end of the campaign our men may be in a state to be improved by a touch of discipline from _Julian Sanchez_ or _Carlos d'Espana_, unless they reject them as too much like banditti!"

"And I am captain of the banditti!" exclaimed Lord Strathern, in a sudden rage. "As you do not _yet_ command the brigade, let me beg you, sir, to go and look after your own people, and keep them up to the mark, lest they become banditti!"

"I always obey orders, my lord," said L'Isle, with suddenly a.s.sumed composure; "I will go and look after my own regiment, and let the rest of the brigade march"--

"Where, sir?" thundered Lord Strathern.

"Their own road," L'Isle answered, and bowed himself out of the room. He walked sedately through the long corridor that led to the entrance of this monastic house, then, yielding to some violent impulse, sprang into his saddle, and plunging his spurs into his horse's flanks, dashed out of the court and through the olive grounds at a killing pace. His astonished groom stared at him for a moment, then followed with emulous speed. As L'Isle turned suddenly into the high road, a voice called out: "Don't ride me down; I'm no Frenchman!"

and he saw Colonel Bradshawe quickly but coolly press his ambling cob close to the hedge, to avoid his charge.

"You seem to be in a hurry, L'Isle. Hallo! here is another!" said the colonel, giving his horse another dexterous turn, to shun the onset of the groom. "What news has come? Or have you joined the dragoons? Or are you merely running a race with your man here?"

"Neither, sir," said L'Isle, who had pulled up and turned to speak to his comrade. His flashing eye and excited manner, his thoroughbred steed, chafing on the bit and pawing the ground, were in striking contrast with the unruffled Bradshawe on his sleek cob, whose temper was as smooth as his coat.

"The fact is," said L'Isle, in what was meant for an explanatory tone, "I have just had a serious conversation with Lord Strathern--"

"Which grew quite animated before it came to an end," interjected Bradshawe, coolly.

"In which I took the liberty of expressing my opinion," continued L'Isle--

"Rather strongly on the subject of discipline, military license, and the articles of war," interjected Bradshawe again.

"You are happy in your surmises, sir," said L'Isle, stiffly; for Bradshawe's imperturbable manner chafed him much in his present mood.

"Surmises! my dear fellow. Do I not know your opinions and my lord's?

You believe the rules and regulations were made to be enforced _ad literam_, and he thinks they are to be hung up _in terrorem_. My lord," added Bradshawe, in a calm, judicial tone, "is the more mistaken of the two."

"Since you so far agree with me," said L'Isle, "would it not be well for you to remind his lordship that it is time to enforce some of the rules and regulations for the government of his Majesty's troops, if he would have his brigade consist of soldiers, and not of robbers."

"It is very desirable to keep up the distinction between the two professions," said Bradshawe. "One has a strong tendency to slide into the other. Pray, tell me what arguments you have been using with my lord."

L'Isle, with an effort at calmness, repeated the substance of the late conversation, much to Bradshawe's amus.e.m.e.nt; for in him a genuine love of mischief rivaled his epicurean tastes.

"On one point, my lord had the advantage of you," said Bradshawe. "It is his privilege to bid you look after your regiment; not yours to bid him look after his brigade."

"True," said L'Isle, bitterly. "But as you, though my senior, are not my commander, I trust there is no insubordination in my telling you that the brigade is left to look after itself, and is going to the devil as fast as it can."

"As individuals," said Bradshawe, "that is the probable destination of most of us."

"We will have to get Julian Sanchez, or the Empecinado, or some other guerilla chief, to undertake its reformation," continued L'Isle, in great heat. "I forgot to suggest to my lord, that before we march away, we ought to levy a contribution, as a bounty for the blessings we bestow on the neighborhood in leaving it."

"A capital idea," said Bradshawe, "but by no means original. The French always do so when they change their cantonments; that is, if there be any thing left in the country around. If our hands were not tied, we might yet learn some clever arts from Monsieur. Junot's system was to drive up all the farm cattle of the neighborhood just before he marched off; then allow them to be redeemed at a low cash price. He found it a capital way to extract the last hidden crusado."

"You have mastered the enemy's system thoroughly," said L'Isle, with a sneer. "But as our hands are tied, we cannot imitate them. Perhaps it would better become your position in the brigade, for you to try and rouse his lordship to the necessity of checking the license that is growing daily."

"I would gladly do so," said Bradshawe; "but being no Oxford logician, have not your irresistible power of convincing him. You have handled the matter so fully and ably, that I need only repeat faithfully every word you have said. You may depend upon me for that." And, turning his horse, he rode gently off toward headquarters, while L'Isle galloped up the hill to Elvas.

Bradshawe found Lord Strathern in as great a rage as the comrade he had just parted with; so he amused himself with drawing out from his lordship a recital of their late conversation, which he repaid with a sketch of L'Isle's roadside conference with himself. The old soldier was only the more provoked on finding that, freely as L'Isle had spoken, he could hardly charge him with insubordination, or twist his hot arguments into a personal insult. Soothing and chafing him by turns, Bradshawe did not permit the subject to drop until they were interrupted by a courier with despatches.

"What is all this! Post upon post! There must be some thing in the wind!" said my lord, as he broke the seal, which was Sir Rowland Hill's.

"Our pleasant winter here is over," said Bradshawe, with a sigh. "We will be moving shortly, and then hot marches and cold meals, sour wine and bad quarters, or no quarters at all, will be the order of the day. I trust we shall move through a more plentiful country than we did last year."

"It has not quite come to that yet," said Lord Strathern. "Here is an order for me to meet Sir Rowland at Alcantara, at ten, the day after to-morrow. I am to take you and Conway with me, for he has special instructions for you both. And here is an order for that modest fellow L'Isle to attend and report the state of the Andalusian reserve. I expect Conway to dinner. You had better stay and meet him."

In due time Major Conway appeared, and dinner was announced. Mrs.

Shortridge had gone home, so that only two guests sat down with Lady Mabel and her father. No man made himself more agreeable in his own house and at his own table than Lord Strathern usually did, for hospitality was with him an article of religion. But to-day my lord was not in a religious frame of mind. He was moody and silent, or growled at his servants, and gave short answers to his guests; so that Major Conway, after sundry attempts to engage him in conversation, gave it up, and joined Bradshawe in his efforts to entertain Lady Mabel. At length the cloth was removed, the servants withdrew, and the gentlemen sat over their wine; yet Lady Mabel, not trained to a nice observance of little conventionalities, lingered there, watching her father's moody brow.

"So L'Isle has got back," said Major Conway.

"The impudent c.o.xcomb!" exclaimed Lord Strathern.

Conway started. But Lady Mabel started as if a snake had bitten her. She said nothing, however; perhaps she could not had she tried. But Conway exclaimed: "My lord, perhaps I did not hear you rightly."

"You did Major Conway. I say that L'Isle is an impudent c.o.xcomb. The most presumptuous fellow I know. I will find or make an occasion to give him a lesson he much needs."

"Why, my lord, what has L'Isle done?" asked the Major.

"Done!" said Lord Strathern angrily. "He has said a great deal more than I will tolerate." And, having broached the subject, he told the story of L'Isle's interview with himself, and his remarks to Bradshawe, p.r.o.nouncing his whole conduct presumptuous and impertinent.

Losing his temper more and more, he exclaimed: "Sir Rowland's absurd partiality has spoiled the fellow utterly!"

"Sir Rowland must not bear all the blame," said Bradshawe, interposing; then added slyly: "No wonder L'Isle's head is turned, considering who all have helped to spoil him."

"So they have; and you have spoiled him more than any one else,"

exclaimed Lord Strathern turning suddenly on Lady Mabel. "I hear of n.o.body but Colonel L'Isle. This Colonel of yours has been growing more and more intolerable--

"My Colonel, papa? I a.s.sure you I lay no claim to him," said Lady Mabel, hastily disclaiming all interest in poor L'Isle.