"Then, senoritas, now for flight," replied Ronald, tightening his sash and belt. "I must abandon my baggage to your charge. The citizens are nearly all off _en route_ for the north and west, and all the church bells are tolling dismally. But I trust Sir Rowland Hill’s advanced guard will be here by to-morrow, and if so, our cavalry under General Long will soon capture this handful of lancers." "They appear, however, to have scared away my fiery brother, the condé; he galloped furiously down the street a few minutes since, nearly riding over a poor old padre, (protect, us Heaven!) and left the town, without even bidding us adieu, although Catalina called to him from the street balcony." "Alas! Inesella," said Catalina, "your prattle will detain him here too long, and every moment is fraught with danger." "Holy Virgin, I hope not! Do not compromise your safety by tarrying longer here, senor. Take the road for the forest of La Nava, and Pedro Gomez will direct you. The Mother of God keep her holy hand over you, brave cavalier! for we may never meet again." "Farewell! _senor mio_. We have been very happy in Merida," said Catalina, in a voice of assumed firmness, and presenting her white hand, while her lip quivered and her cheek turned very pale. At that moment the distant sound of a cavalry trumpet was borne towards them on the passing breeze. "Come awa, sir; we maunna bide a minute mair,—it’s just a temptin’ o’ Providence," urged Evan, examining his flint as he stood at the garden gate with Pedro Gomez, who was armed with his carbine, and had donned his helmet and accoutrements. "Gude by to ye, leddies," added the Highlander, touching his bonnet; "and mony thoosand thanks to ye for your kindness to my maister in this unco hole o’ a place." "Keep this for my sake, fair Catalina, and think of me sometimes, when I am far away from you," said Ronald, casting his tartan plaid over her white shoulders as a parting gift; and kissing her pale brow, and her cousin’s hand, he retired hastily from the garden, followed by the soldiers. *CHAPTER XIV.* *MULETEERS.* "I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none." _Macbeth._ The red sun was setting amidst a sea of light floating clouds, which displayed a thousand blending shades of purple, saffron, and gold, shedding the same warm hues on the scenery around Merida, tinging every object of the beautiful landscape, through which, meandering between dark green groves of the orange and olive, wound the slowly rolling and broad-bosomed Guadiana, seeming like a flood of lucid gold, in which the objects on its sides were reflected downwards, the changing sky above and the black round arches of the noble bridge all appearing inverted in the bosom of the stream, as on the surface of a polished mirror.