'She has been trying to lure me into a flirtation _pour passer le temps_,' thought Cecil, as he rode down the slope on the summit of which Palenka stood; 'and I am well rid--well clear of her alluring meshes.' At a turn of the path he waved his cap in farewell, as he knew that her soft bright eyes were watching him from a window; but he knew not that from another point eyes were watching his departure in which a less pleasant expression might have been read. CHAPTER XIX. THE BLACK MOUNTAINEERS. The path by which he proceeded was narrow, rugged, often ascending rocky steeps and descending into rapid water-courses; thus his progress was slow and devious. It was often bordered by forests of oak, ash and yew--the latter imparting a great gloom to the scenery; it was overshadowed by hills, particularly those of Mount Mezlanie, with alpine peaks that were covered with thyme, rosemary, and other aromatic plants. Here and there he saw goats perched upon fragments of rock, their long beards waving in the wind; and occasionally when the country became open, he passed bare fields whereon the oats and millet had been reaped. So he was once again in his saddle, with his sword by his side, his pistols in his holsters, and the world of wild life before him! His pistols? He thought it as well to look to them, and on doing so, found that the cartridges had been withdrawn from the chambers of both! By whom had this been done, and why? He could not suspect the old soldier Theodore; but he did suspect Guebhard of tampering with some of the grooms. Forewarned thus, he at once proceeded to examine and reload them carefully. As he rode on, he thought with more amazement than irritation of his conversation with the captain over-night, and of that personage's declaration of his regard for Margarita--his open jealousy, and threat of brooking no rivalry. Whether she had loved Guebhard in the past time, or whether she loved him still, was a matter of such little consequence to Cecil, that he scarcely thought about it at all. 'Could I,' he reflected--'could I but forget my own past, with its brightness and gloom--though the brightness was Mary, the gloom my mysterious disgrace--I might yet have some hope in the future here--even here! My foot is already on the first step of the ladder, and military rank, perhaps glory itself, may yet be mine. I may yet gather one leaf of laurel, and who can say but that a corner in the Temple of Fame may await me too!' He laughed at the thought. He was, in fact, too young to feel quite despairing yet. His spirit rose with the exhilaration induced by a rapid ride; and he at last began to think with ardour of the mess of the old corps, seeing his name in the public prints--the exultation and commendation of his pluck and bravery by Leslie Fotheringhame, Dick Freeport, and others--even his story going the round of the men's barrack; and more than all, of what would be the emotions of Mary Montgomerie!