The
last letter I received was in regular stanzas."
"Who from?" asked Lord Strathern.
"A Spaniard--a genuine Spaniard, of the purest water," said Lady
Mabel. "And, strange to tell, I never saw him but once in my life."
"The impudent rascal!" exclaimed his lordship. "I will have him
horsewhipped by way of answer, a stripe for every line."
"Nay," said Lady Mabel, "a stripe for every bad line will be cutting
criticism enough."
"Who is this fellow? Is it the Don Alonso Melendez you were telling me
of?"
"Never mind his name, Papa. I am afraid you might have him flayed
alive, while the poor fellow deserves nothing but laughter for his
doggerel." And while this doggerel was secretly pressed by her bosom,
she stole a look at L'Isle, and was surprised to see how little galled
he seemed to be by her ridicule.
"What is the burden of Sir Rowland's verses?" she asked, addressing
him.
"Very true!" exclaimed L'Isle; "I had forgotten to read it." And
breaking the seal, he ran his eye hastily over the letter. "I must
leave Elvas at once, and be away some days," he said, with a look of
dissatisfaction.
"Sir Rowland is very fond of sending you on his errands," remarked
Lord Strathern.
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