[*] The date of poor Macdonald’s letter is now obliterated, and I have forgotten what it was,—about the month of March (1812), I think. "DEAR STUART, "Fassifern and the rest of ours are anxious to know how you are, after that wound you received so villanously, and from which I hope you are almost recovered by this time. Send us word by the first messenger from Merida to the front. Remember me particularly to the fair Catalina, and I assure you that your quarters at present in her splendid mansion, are very different from mine here,—in a wretched hut, where the rain comes in at the roof, and the wind at a thousand crannies. You may congratulate us, my old comrade, on the easy victories we obtain over Messieurs the French, who have been driven from Almendralejo, and all the places adjacent, with little loss on our part. I now write you from a village, out of which our brigade drove them a few days ago. How much you would have admired the gallantry of our Spanish friend Don Alvaro, who accompanied us in this affair. On our approaching the enemy, they retired without firing a shot at first, and his troop of lancers, who were halted on the road leading to Los Santos, charged them at full gallop, shouting _Viva Ferdinand! España! España y buena Esperanza!_" "Noble Alvaro! my brave brother!" interrupted Catalina, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I will always love this _officiale_ for what he says. Oh! that Inesella was here! She is betrothed to Alvaro, senor, and would have been wedded long since, but for a quarrel they had about Donna Ermina, the wife of old Salvador, the guerilla chief." "It was a noble sight," continued the letter, "to see the tall lances levelled to the rest, the steel helmets flashing in the sun, and to hear the clang of the rapid hoofs, as the Spaniards rushed down the brae and broke upon the enemy with the force of a whirlwind, a thunderbolt, or any thing else you may suppose. Campbell protested it equalled the charge of the Mamelukes, when _he_ ’was in Egypt with Sir Ralph.’ Alvaro has now gone off to join Murillo, where he hopes to meet Don Salvador de Zagala, whom he vows to impale alive. He left me but an hour ago, and desires me in my letter to send a kiss to his sister. This, I dare swear, you will be most happy to deliver." Ronald faltered, and turned his eye on Catalina, who blushed deeply. It was impossible to resist the temptation; her face was very close to his, and he pressed his lips upon her burning cheek. "Read on, _senor mio_," she said, disengaging herself with exquisite grace; "perhaps there may be more about Alvaro?" Ronald glanced his eye over the next paragraph, and passed it over in silence and confusion.