"Keep your horses tight by the head!" cried Alvaro, as his mettlesome steed kicked and plunged in the narrow path, whilst Ronald expected to see him vanish over the rocks every second. "Draw well on the curb, señors; or, _diavolo!_ some of us will be in the other world presently!"
Their cattle, however, were soon quieted, and Stuart again looked towards the place where the Torre de los Frayles had stood, but no trace of the tower was visible. The smoke had dispersed, and the rock was bare. The sound of a cavalry trumpet, calling ’to mount,’ was heard soon afterwards, and the roll of an infantry drum echoed away among the mountains.
"Pedro has put powder in the vaults and blown up the place, that it may never again become a nest for such birds of prey," said Alvaro. "’Tis a tower of friars or thieves no longer, but in one moment has been dashed into fifty thousand fragments of stone. Here comes Pedro on our rear; the troop are descending the hill."
As he spoke, a long line of glittering casques and spears, moving in single file, appeared descending the rocks, and vanishing in succession under the shadow of the impending cliff, behind which the moon was shining, and casting long gigantic shadows across the valley below. The soldiers brought with them the now crest-fallen and dejected Alosegui, who, as Ronald’s former preserver and defender, was, at his earnest intercession, alone permitted to escape the terrible retribution so successfully wrought on his guilty confreres.
On inquiring about Carlos de Avallo, to whose evil influence Ronald believed his captivity to have been mainly owing, Villa Franca informed him that a duel had taken place between that violent young cavalier and Don Alvarado. It had been fought on the _Puerta del Sol_ of Elizondo, about mid-day four months previously, and ended by Carlos being run through the body by Alvarado, who, to escape the vengeance of his victim’s uncle, Don Diego, had absconded to South America, and had not been since heard of.
*AN ACQUAINTANCE, AND "OLD ENGLAND ON THE LEE."
*"Spain! farewell for ever! These banished eyes shall view thy courts no more: A mournful presage tells my heart, that never Gonsalva’s steps again shall press thy shore." _M. G. Lewis._