The meridian sun blazed over its broad and arid surface, marking with a glaring light every spot affecting to memory: Sebastian transiently closed his eyes, as if to shut out a picture, that, alas! was painted yet stronger on his mind. That dismal plain covered with dead, such as he had seen it with Abensallah, was even more present to him than the one he actually saw: Stukeley, De Castro, the young Braganza, every dear and lamented associate, pressed upon recollection; those deep wounds of the heart which new anxieties had closed, now opened afresh, and he became once more the prey of profound though unavailing remorse. Given up to gloomy retrospects, Sebastian sought to indulge them alone and at liberty; for this purpose he took advantage of his companion’s halting for refreshment, and went to visit the tower where Sir Thomas Stukeley fell. His path was whitened with human bones! he trod amongst them hastily, yet apprehensively, for whether these were the last mortal relics of Moors or Portuguese, they were still the relics of men. Seen under the cheerful light of day, the broken watch tower was not in itself so dreary an object as it had appeared by the glimmering of moon-light, but Sebastian viewed it with still drearier reflections: time had altered his sentiments, and taught him to consider the blood shed under those walls, as blood shed uselessly and madly; but for his fanatic enthusiasm, Stukeley might have been then living honored and happy. Struck with this thought he slowly approached the ruins, that he might look for the last time on the spot where he had found his friend’s body; as he advanced, two men issued from the shattered gateway, and passed him; one of them started as he passed, and stopped--Sebastian moved on, thoughtless of personal danger. He had gained the place he sought, and had stood sadly contemplating it, when, on raising his eyes, as he turned away, they were arrested by the sight of faces peeping at him through the lower branches of some trees: in one of these he recognized the dark scowl of Ben Tarab. Instinctively he grasped the head of a loaded pistol which he wore in his girdle; this action, and the sudden blaze of his eyes, made the cowardly Moor relinquish his hold of the tree, its boughs closed as he let them hastily out of his hand, preventing Sebastian from seeing which way he went. Somewhat disturbed at this unexpected rencontre, the young monarch stood for a moment to determine on his future movements, he was too conscious of Ben Tarab’s animosity not to apprehend its effects, and therefore thought it best to rejoin his companions without incurring fresh risk by attempting alone to find the cave of Abensallah: regretting this necessity, he hastened from the ruins, and looking back, beheld Ben Tarab and his comrade stealing between the trees and the wall in the same direction with himself.