thus I promise my patronage to her client!"

Louis had entered in some agitation, and knelt with more at the feet of the Sovereign, who, he believed, held the honour and fate of his father in her hand. He now recognised the Duchess in the Queen; and every anxious doubt flying before the glad surprize, the sentiment of his heart shone out in his complexion and eyes. She translated this flush of hope, into a tribute to her charms; and graciously repeated her smile when he put her hand to his lips.

"Who will you serve, de Montemar," said she, "Elizabeth and Countess Altheim? or Isabella, and the Duchess Tarrazona? Chuse freely, for I love not bondage."

Conscious complacency beamed in her looks, as she spoke.

"My duty, and my heart," replied he, "are alike at Your Majesty's feet."

His heart was in his words and his countenance. The devotion of Ripperda had been reserved and stately; but in the animated answer of his son, there was a youthful fervour, a chivalric gallantry; which, being her soul's passion, subdued her at once to his interest. All her pre-determined caution vanished before it. She looked towards Santa Cruz.

"Give de Montemar your cross of the Amaranth," said she; "I will replace it to-morrow. When he returns from Gibraltar, he may wear it openly; now, it must be nearer the seat of truth."

Santa Cruz drew from his neck the purple ribbon, at which the brilliant cross was suspended, and buckled it under the vest of his young friend. Again Louis kissed the hand of the condescending Isabella; who continued to regard his graceful person with increasing favour, while she communicated the result of her mediation between him and the King.

So many baffled negociations for the restoration of Gibraltar had worn out the patience of Philip; and, as the fortress was evidently strengthening itself on the Spanish side, he had ordered similar lines of intimidation to be constructed at San Roque. But this did not awe the English, whose sovereign seemed on the eve of a quarrel with the new ministers of Spain; and therefore, Isabella seized the occasion to represent to her husband, the danger of allowing the British cabinet the incalculable benefit of Ripperda's discoveries and counsels. In pursuance of these arguments, she gradually gained her object with the King; and now informed Louis that she had obtained the royal command for him to go direct to Gibraltar, to lay before Ripperda all that was alledged against him, to offer him a fair and open trial, or a general amnesty; and which-ever he would prefer, should follow his election.

The trial was what Louis demanded.

"Grant my father that," said he, "and we ask no more."

"Bring him from Gibraltar," returned the Queen, "and nothing shall be withheld, that can gratify the honourable ambition of his son."

She then told him, that as it was necessary to keep these preliminaries from the knowledge of the ministry, he must neither visit the British Ambassador, nor the Val del Uzeda, nor even allow his name, nor his errand to be known, until he should have obtained the object of his mission.

"When you return, it will be with a companion," added she, "to whom, meanwhile, I pledge my restored confidence." She smiled, and disappeared. Louis looked gratefully after her. The Marquis would not trouble the hopes of his heart, by warning him that all this revered goodness arose from the dreams of vanity; and that both father and son must preserve its illusions, if they would continue in the favour she so largely promised.

Louis gave his arm to his friend; and with heads too full of busy thoughts, to give them immediate utterance, they repaired in silence to Santa Cruz's residence in Madrid.

A few hours completed every preparation for Louis's journey to Gibraltar; and the next morning, by day-break, accompanied by the faithful Lorenzo, he set forth on his momentous pilgrimage.

CHAP. II.

Hope having drawn him from sad meditations, as he rapidly pursued his way towards the south of Spain, he could not but obey the voice of nature, which called on him from valley and from mountain, to behold her vast and wonderous creations.

The royal province of Castile, traversed by rivers, and populous with cities, conducted him to the extensive plains of La Mancha. Here the palladian palaces north of the Guadiana, and avenued with glowing vistas, were exchanged for heavy and sombre hamlets spread under the shade of thick groves, and dark with the clusters of the black grape. But in architecture alone, these villages were gloomy and uninviting. It was the season of the vintage, and the whole scene teemed with life and gaiety. Louis passed through it, enjoying with the sympathy of benevolence, the happiness he saw. In front lay a mountainous desart. Here he exchanged his vehicle for two stout mules used to the precipitous road; and with Lorenzo, entered the new region.

They were now in the Sierra Morena, which separates La Mancha from the Hesperian vales of Andalusia. The passes of the mountain were long, winding, and melancholy; but the moment he crossed its high misty ridge, Louis felt a difference in the atmosphere, amazing and grateful in its contrast, as the luxuriant landscape before him, when opposed to the frowning sterility behind.

"That is Andalusia!" exclaimed Lorenzo, pointing down to the fairest piedmont of Spain. Louis knew there was not a rill or a hillock in that ample province, which did not once owe tribute to his family; he also knew how they had been lost; and with mingled feelings, he turned to the careless voice of Lorenzo, remarking on the beauties of the view.

On one side, towards the east, extended the pastoral hills of Jaen, backed by the snowy summits of the distant Sierra Nevada of Grenada; the last retreat of the Moors, before their final expulsion from Spain. Louis thought on the latter circumstance, as those storied mountains stood bright in the glowing sky. He recollected, that amongst these persecuted people, was Don Ferdinand de Valor, one of his own progenitors; and that his attachment to the Moorish cause had occasioned the first sequestration of the Ripperda territories to the Spanish Kings. He did not utter his reflections; but deeply ruminating, gave the reins to his mule, and slowly descended the heights.

With this humble equipage, and by the side of a single attendant, he entered the principality of his fathers. Over those very hills and vallies, where the heroes of his name had conducted armies to assist or to repel the sovereigns of Spain, he was journeying to seek the representative of all their honours, an exiled fugitive in a foreign land!—But William de Ripperda was not less worthy of their blood! And the last of their race, did not blush at the banishment of a parent, whose crimes were his virtues.

"My noble, glorious father!" exclaimed he, inwardly, as he looked upwards; that look conveyed his vow to heaven. To think only of that father; to exult only in his virtue; to mourn only his affliction; and to regard his weal or woe, as the only future objects of his own.

When he crossed the Guadalquivir, Lorenzo checked his mule.

"From this spot, to the banks of the Xenil;" said he, "a track of many leagues, is the Marquisate of Montemar. The castle stands on a high promontory, far to the west, on the latter river. I never shall forget the joy of the country, when the Duke de Ripperda paid it a visit, on his return from Vienna."

Louis looked on the