from different points of view, she told him
that, as a last compliment to her Elvas friends, she had, for once,
adopted their costume.

"Improved upon it, rather," said L'Isle, for she had not closely
followed the local costume where it did not please her. Then running
on, from one lively topic to another, she amused L'Isle so
successfully that he felt it to be an interruption when the footman
came in to say that the coach was ready. After depositing her guitar
in state, on a pile of music, on the front seat, L'Isle at length
found himself beside Lady Mabel in this venerable vehicle, long used
to bear a noble burden, having belonged to a Portuguese Marquis, who
on the first approach of Junot's invading horde, had run off to
Brazil, leaving his coach, his estate, his country, and perhaps his
honor behind him. Slow and dignified, as became its character, was its
progress up the hill of Elvas; for one pair of the team of mules which
had brought it from Lisbon, had returned to their duty in the
quartermaster's department, and their comrades, left to their own
unaided efforts, found the coach almost as hard to handle as a
nine-pounder. But in the dove-like, billing and cooing humor in which
L'Isle was, time flew on the wings of the carrier-pigeon, and they
arrived at Mrs. Shortridge's house too soon for him, though all the
guests, but themselves, were there already. Two or three score of
Portuguese, most of them ladies, and nearly as many English officers
filled the rooms.

Some of these gentlemen looked surprised at seeing L'Isle, thinking he
had already left Elvas. Lieutenant Goring, who was showing off his
tall lithe person and dragoon uniform to the best advantage, beside
his short and sturdy friend, Captain Hatton, seemed annoyed at
L'Isle's presence, and Hatton shared his feelings. L'Isle stood in the
way of their paying court to Lady Mabel, and Goring, at least, had
reckoned on his absence.

"I had hoped," said he, "that we were rid of the Colonel for once. He
is an abominable monopolist."

"He is so," said Hatton, "for Lady Mabel's smiles belong to the
brigade."

"And the light dragoons quartered with it," interjected Goring. "But
here he is, basking in the sunshine, and keeping us shivering in the
shade, when he ought to be on the road to Alcantara. Sir Rowland is
expecting him. Major Conway seemed quite anxious that he should be
there betimes in the morning, and, doubtless, had some good reason for
it.

"