My friend D., of the 13th light-dragoons, and I, were admiring the waltzers of the evening, when he observed to me that the young officer of the 51st was not only the best dancer, but had the prettiest and best partner; “and,” said he, “I think the lady seems quite smitten with him; they have been partners the whole of the evening.” From this observation I was led to remark the young lady more closely than I had done before, and the result in my mind was, that Captain Gore was blest with a partner the most bewitching in all Spain, and that _he_ was of the same opinion. She was about seventeen, rather _en bon point_, and middle-sized; large, dark, and languishing eyes; black, glossy ringlets, with a beautifully fair skin; she was dressed in the graceful black costume of her country, and appeared a personification of the Beauty of a Castilian romance; her manners were gentle, and with Captain Gore as her partner, she attracted the admiration of every one present. Where is the moralist who has looked into the book of nature, and will say that they were culpable in loving each other, although circumstances wholly forbade their union? Let us draw a veil over the weakness of human nature, when opposed by such powerful influences as those which surrounded these young persons. Let us not, with the austerity of mature and experienced wisdom censure, but pity them, circled as they were with a glowing halo of youth and love. They loved—marriage was impossible:—she left her father's house and fled to him, while he vowed to protect her with his life, even unto the end of it. This happened in about three weeks after the ball.