you," he said, as he threw his
arms round de Leyva's neck--"Go, and show by your conduct how worthy you
are of the confidence reposed in you.--When the glory of your deeds
shall be blazoned abroad, my ungrateful child will feel a pang of regret
for the loss of a man so deserving of her affection and esteem."

Here he was overcome with grief, and could proceed no further.

"Senor," said Don Antonio, "do not yield yourself a prey to despondency;
but a short time has yet elapsed since the melancholy occurrence that
afflicts you, and you have no reason to relinquish your hopes. In all
cases be assured, Don Manuel, that you and those who concern you will
always be next my heart, and that unless death deprive me of the power,
I shall at least see your wrongs redressed, if I can bring no other
consolation."

Saying this he hastily disengaged himself from the arms of Don Manuel,
and endeavouring to conceal his own emotion, gave the word of command.
He bounded lightly on his spirited barb, and the martial display of his
men, the glitter of armour, and the seductive prospect of future glory
and renown, powerfully contributed to dispel the cloud that hung over
him. Yet it was a sad parting, for there was something peculiarly
affecting in the sight of a father who, like Monteblanco, found himself
in old age isolated in the midst of the world, and bereft of the last
dear comfort that still bound him to life. Besides, in the short
interviews between Theodora and Don Antonio, both in the last visit and
at former periods, she had left a pleasing recollection in his mind.
Already the cries of those who bade the party of de Leyva farewell were
diminishing on the ear, and the turrets and steeples of Guadix became
more obscurely perceptible in the distance. The warriors began now to
assume a mastery over their feelings, and the tear of sympathy was
brightened in the glow of expectation. Courage and renown took entire
possession of those hearts which but too lately had sympathized with the
weaker and more tender sentiments of humanity.

The absence of Don Antonio was like a death-blow to the hopes of
Monteblanco. Often did he regret the infirmities of age, which now
prevented him from grasping his sword; but his arm was grown nerveless,
and for the first time in his life the helpless cavalier felt bitterly
the recollection that all his brave sons had sacrificed their lives in
the defence of their country, not one now remaining to prop t