Donna Isidora was considering how all this unlooked-for deviation and delay were to be explained to her brother, who, as a Spaniard, was naturally suspicious, and of whom she stood in considerable awe. The latter emotion made her conceive that the most peaceful and prudent course would be, to say nothing whatever about the casual discovery of her disguise, or her wanderings on the way before reaching Portalegre; but then, how was she to account for the absence of the horse and mule, but for the loss of which, after their flight from the French, she and Quentin would have been last night safe and separated at the place of their destination! Then when remembering the haughty temper of Cosmo, and the cold and hostile manner in which he was treated by him, Quentin felt some alarm lest his honour might be impugned by the protracted delay in rejoining the Borderers; while his own experience, and the hints he had received from Major Middleton, made him now resolve, however great his reluctance would be in leaving that fine old soldier and Askerne, Monkton, and other 25th men, to volunteer into some other regiment--perhaps in the 94th, if his friend Captain Warriston could scheme it for him. The moidores which Ribeaupierre had so generously shared with him, made a transfer of this kind appear the more easy in a monetary point of view; and luckily the army had not yet begun to move, so his courage was still unimpeachable. Reflection showed that Cosmo would render his life intolerable, and make promotion an impossibility. "I shall seek out another colonel, if he can be found in the service. I can only fail in the attempt, and be no worse than I am," said Quentin, unintentionally aloud, so that the dark eyes of the Spanish girl rested inquiringly on him. He now seated himself in the same window opposite Isidora, who having her own thoughts, was silent. Evening was drawing near--the short evening of a dark November day, and the ceaseless rain still plashed heavily down, while the wind howled drearily around the solitary villa. CHAPTER XXVIII. OUR LADY DEL PILAR. "The foe retires--she heads the sallying host, Who can appease like her a lover's ghost? Who can so well appease a lover's fall? What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost? Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul, Foiled by a woman's hand before a battered wall." BYRON. "What a singular adventure this is," thought Quentin; "and what a perplexing position for us both! It is very romantic, certainly. A deserted house, a lovely girl, and all that. 'Tis very like some incidents I have read of, and some I have imagined; but, by Jove! I wish I could see my way handsomely out of it."