"Pho! Catalina," said her thoughtless cousin; "heed not Balthazzar’s angry looks, though, indeed, he can be fierce enough when he pleases. He will probably depart immediately with his despatches: he said he had but a short time to tarry." "Pray Heaven that may be so!" "And then Don Ronald and he will perhaps never meet again." "Let us leave the church. O Inesella! how my heart flutters." "Indeed, my sweet cousin, your eyes have been the cause of more than one duel already, as the notches on Balthazzar’s sword can testify; and you have great reason to feel sorrow and disquiet." "I hear the hoofs of a horse; ’tis galloping through the Plaza." "It must be his, Catalina: thanks to our Lady of the Rock, he is gone! They may meet no more." The ladies were, however, both mistaken. Scarcely had Ronald escorted them home, before Evan placed in his hand a note, addressed to "El Noble Caballero, Don Ronaldo Stuart, 92nd Regimiento, Calle de Guadiana." In spite of the many vexations which annoyed him, Ronald well nigh laughed on seeing this strange and imperfect address. "This is some trick of Alister’s," thought he, as he tore open the billet, the contents of which undeceived him. "SENOR, "When the clock of the Casa del Ayuntamiento strikes the hour of two, I shall be awaiting you in the thicket behind the ruins of the castle of Merida. You will not fail to come well armed. BALTHAZZAR DE TRUXILLO." Anger and surprise were Ronald’s first emotions on perusing this unlooked-for challenge, which he considered an additional aggression; and having already been grossly insulted, he deeply regretted that he had not "stolen a march" on the condé, by sending him the hostile message first. "The devil!" muttered he; "this will be a pretty winding-up of matters, to be shot by this vindictive Spaniard! But, every thing considered, my life is scarcely worth having: certes, a challenge could not have come at a better time, when my heart is filled with misanthropy, gall, and bitterness, and my feelings deadened by the news I have received within these twenty-four hours. Perhaps Alice may weep when she reads of my death in the ’Gazette,’—so and so to be ensign, _vice_ Stuart, deceased. Sorrow or death—come what may, my heart is strung for it all." A sour smile crossed his features, and he glanced at the clock of the corporation-house: it wanted but a quarter of two. "I shall be late," said he, buckling on his sword. "What shall I do in this cursed dilemma? I have neither a friend to accompany me, nor pistols to use; and the condé may object to so formidable a weapon as the broad-sword. Would to God Macdonald, Chisholm, or any of ours, were here! Evan," said he, turning to his servant, who had watched his excitement, and heard his half-muttered speeches with considerable concern and surprise. "Evan!" "O’d, sir, ye needna speak sae loud: I’m just behint ye. What’s yer wull, sir?"