he was a great favourite, had lost no time in
taking him out to the _Retiro_; nor, perhaps, were the lovers sorry to
leave the noise and bustle of the town for this calm and peaceful
retreat.

It was about an hour after sunset, and Don Torribio sat dozing in an
arm-chair, with his old black dog Moro coiled up at his feet, and his
niece Teresa beside him, busying herself in the arrangement of a bouquet
of choice flowers, while at the other end of the balcony Gertrudis and
her lover were looking out upon the garden. The silence was unbroken,
save by the splashing noise of the fountain as it fell back upon the
water-lilies that covered its basin. The moon was as yet concealed
behind the high ground to the right of the house; but the sky in that
direction was lighted up by its beams, and the outline of every tree and
bush on the summit of the hill was defined and cut out, as it were,
against the clear blue background. Suddenly Gertrudis called her
companion's attention to the neighbouring mountain. "See, Ignacio!"
exclaimed she, "yonder bush on the very highest point of the hill! Could
not one almost fancy it to be a man with a gun in his hand? and that
clump of leaves on the top bough might be the _boina_ of one of those
horrid Carlists?"

While she spoke the officer ran his eye along the ridge of the hill, and
started when he caught sight of the object pointed out by Gertrudis; but
before he could reply to her remark, she was called away by her father.
At that moment the supposed bush made a sudden movement, and the long
bright barrel of a musket glittered in the moonbeams. The next instant
the figure disappeared as suddenly as though it had sunk into the earth.

The Christino colonel remained for a moment gazing on the mountain, and
then, turning away, hastened to accompany his host and the ladies, who
had received a summons to supper. On reaching the foot of the stairs,
however, instead of following them into the supper-room, he passed
through the house-door, which stood open, and, after a moment's halt in
the shade of the lattice portico, sprang forward with a light and
noiseless step, and in three or four bounds found himself under one of
the large chestnut trees that stood on either side the fountain. Keeping
within the black shadow thrown by the branches, he cast a keen and
searching glance over the garden and shrubberies, now partially lighted
up by the moon. Nothing was moving either in the garden, or as far as