“For this reason,” answered Harris, thoughtfully; “Don Jose has just shown himself incapable of remembering, by being unable to repeat, Carl’s story; Veal always needs to hear a story twice in order to comprehend it; and the rest are not interested enough to understand correctly, or report accurately; therefore I must go, or little Carl,” he added, turning to the boy, who rose from his reclining posture and stood beside his commander. “I am not afraid, signor,” he said, firmly; “but it needs an older head and truer skill than mine to study the craft of Englishmen.” “Truly spoken, Carl,” answered Harris; “but you shall take my place here,” and, pushing aside the heavy sail, he entered a little room arranged for Arabel’s accommodation, followed by Carl. “I am going over to the settlement, Bel,” he said “and have brought you a new valet to entertain you while I am gone; if you like his appearance, he shall be your page for the future.” Arabel raised her eyes from the delicate chessboard, on which she was listlessly arranging the men, and met Carl’s earnest childish gaze with a pleasant smile. “But why must you go, Harris, there are enough beside you,” she said, turning to him. “We are liable to be routed from here at any time,” he replied, “and I alone can manage the part of spy, and decide when to remove.” And away he went, leaving Carl established in his new honors. “I wish that I might die,” said Arabel, passionately, that night, after she had heard Carl’s story of the great robbery, and listened to his bewitching recital of the time when the young queen called him her little page, and he supported her train in passing through the corridor, or held her fan in the audience chamber. He did not know how intimately connected his beautiful mistress and brave young commander were with the robber Morrillo and his powerful band. “I wish I had died long ago, in the little cottage by the waterside; not when my mother did; so pure and calm was her spirit, mine would have looked dark beside it; but, I was wild and thoughtless then. Methinks I have lived a thousand years since that strange brightness passed away. Where are you, mother? O, come back to me,--to your own Arabel!” Even then there was a raging fever heat in her veins, and a delirious, wildering look in her dark eyes. Long before the morning dawned, Harris returned to the Glen. The men noted his mischievous, glancing smile, more than his stern, commanding look, as he came out from the thick underbrush, and waved his hand as a signal for them to stop. “Have you removed and secured all your valuables?” he asked, “for I have an inkling, from what has been said tonight, that they will soon be on our track.”