sturb the peace and quiet of the
British army cantoned along the frontier. The Marshal had now
swallowed or pocketed all that he could find in the rich, but hapless
vale of Plasencia, and of late had been casting hungry glances on the
country south of the river. This had induced Sir Rowland to ride over
from Coria to Alcantara, to look to his line of communication with the
southern provinces. This old city had been long sinking into decay;
the French General, Lapisse, spent one night in it four years ago; and
well nigh completed the work which time had begun. Still its position
and its famous bridge, one arch of which had been blown up, and had
now been hastily repaired, made it an important point at this time.

In a Gothic hall, which looked as if it had not long since been
visited by the Vandals, but which had of old been often thronged with
members of the once chivalrous order of Alcantara, now as effete in
knighthood as that of Malta; a military secretary was writing at a
small table, at the dictation of Sir Rowland Hill, who stood near,
perchance, as good a knight as ever trod that floor. Officers came in
to him, and were sent out again on various missions. Lord Strathern
was seated by a larger table at the other end of the room, conversing
gaily with his fellow-travelers from Elvas, and waiting Sir Rowland's
leisure.

Sir Rowland presently looked at his watch, and raising his voice,
inquired--"My Lord, has L'Isle come yet?"

"Not yet," Lord Strathern answered with a smiling countenance, while
Sir Rowland's expressed disappointment. He knew that the
commander-in-chief was about to order a combination of simultaneous
movements. Every part of the allied force from Gallicia to Andalusia
had its task allotted, and he was anxious to know how far the _Conde
di Abispal's_ could be relied on.

"L'Isle is usually before his time," said Sir Rowland. "Do you think
he got my order yesterday?"

"I have little doubt of it," said my lord.

"But I doubt his being here soon," said Bradshawe, dipping in his oar
to trouble the waters. "He had to go last night to a concert in
Elvas."

"A concert detain him! I do not understand that."

"Nor I, Sir Rowland," said Bradshawe coolly. "I only heard it without
pretending to understand it."

Sir Rowland looked puzzled, but his unfinished dispatch claimed his
attention, and he turned again to his secretary.

Meanwhile Lord Strathern was in high spirits. "The hour has come, but
no