"You must not forget to carry the rosemary and other choice plants
with you," said Mrs. Shortridge, "and some beams of the Portuguese
sun, to secure two seasons of flowers in the year."

While she was yet speaking, a snake glided slowly across her
path. Starting back in terror, she uttered a little scream, and begged
L'Isle to kill it without delay.

"How shall I kill it," he said, laughing at her alarm. "Shall I bruise
the serpent's head with my heel, or shall I draw my sword on a
reptile?"

"In any way you please, so you do kill it," she exclaimed, seeing the
snake stop and raise its head to look at them.

But the farmer now interfered: "Spare his life, this is one of my best
friends. You see that he shows not the least fear. While providing for
himself, he works too for me, destroying the frogs and lizards that
make sad havoc among my bees."

Returning to the house, they found in front of it the mules laden and
the horses saddled for the journey. Observing that Moodie looked
particularly rueful this morning, Lady Mabel asked him what was the
matter, and he admitted that he was very unwell. "But with bad food
and worse water, loss of sleep and worry of mind, a man soon gets worn
out in this unhappy country; You, my lady, look jaded enough, too."

"Oh, never mind my looks," she answered. "I feel perfectly well, and
can travel on until I get tanned as brown as these Moorish girls. But
I am afraid Moodie, you are paying the penalty for last night's insult