rred the interview with Aubrey that I have just narrated, I was
burning to leave Devereux Court. Within one little week from that time
my eagerness was wonderfully abated. The sagacious reader will readily
discover the cause of this alteration. About eight miles from my uncle's
house was a seaport town; there were many and varied rides leading
to it, and the town was a favourite place of visitation with all the
family. Within a few hundred yards of the town was a small cottage,
prettily situated in the midst of a garden, kept with singular neatness,
and ornamented with several rare shrubs and exotics. I had more than
once observed in the garden of this house a female in the very first
blush of youth, and beautiful enough to excite within me a strong
curiosity to learn the owner of the cottage. I inquired, and ascertained
that its tenant was a Spaniard of high birth, and one who had acquired
a melancholy celebrity by his conduct and misfortunes in the part he
had taken in a certain feeble but gallant insurrection in his native
country. He had only escaped with life and a very small sum of money,
and now lived in the obscure seaport of------, a refugee and a recluse.
He was a widower, and had only one child,--a daughter; and I was
therefore at no loss to discover who was the beautiful female I had
noted and admired.

On the day after my conversation with Aubrey detailed in the last
chapter, in riding past this cottage alone, I perceived a crowd
assembled round the entrance; I paused to inquire the cause.

"Why, your honour," quoth a senior of the village, "I believe the
tipstaves be come to take the foreigner for not paying his rent; and he
does not understand our English liberty like, and has drawn his sword,
and swears, in his outlandish lingo, he will not be made prisoner
alive."

I required no further inducement to make me enter the house. The crowd
gave way when they saw me dismount, and suffered me to penetrate into
the first apartment. There I found the gallant old Spaniard with his
sword drawn, keeping at bay a couple of sturdy-looking men, who appeared
to be only prevented from using violence by respect for the person
or the safety of a young woman, who clung to her father's knees and
implored him not to resist where resistance was so unavailing. Let me
cut short this scene; I dismissed the bailiffs, and paid the debt. I
then endeavoured to explain to the Spaniard, in French, for he scarcely
understood three w