Three days had gone by since the return of the party from Evora. The
ladies had gotten over their fatigue, talked over their travels, and
wondered at seeing nothing of L'Isle. He had merely sent to inquire
after their health, instead of coming himself, as in duty bound. Lady
Mabel had confidently looked for him the first day, asked about him
the next, and on the third, feeling hurt at this continued neglect,
concluded that she had had enough of his company of late, and it did
not matter should she not see him for a month.

Meanwhile, what was L'Isle doing? He was busy reforming himself and
his regiment. On his return to Elvas he had met with several little
indications of relaxed discipline, and somewhat suddenly remembered
that he had not come out to Portugal to ride about the country,
escorting young ladies in search of botanical specimens, picturesque
scenes, and fragments of antiquity. He, the most punctilious of
martinets, had been sadly neglecting his duties, and had used the
invalid's plea until it was worn threadbare long ago. He was
dissatisfied with himself, and, of course, more dissatisfied with
other people.

From the day he came back he was constantly in the midst of his
regiment. He showed himself, too, at the head of the mess table at
every meal, taking that, as well as other opportunities, to inculcate
rigid precept and sound doctrine on military matters, and lecture his
officers on the subject of discipline. Nor did he confine himself to
generalities. He was exacting with his major, hard on his adjutant; he
gave Captain A---- to understand that the days and nights spent in the
mountains in pursuit of his game tended little to promote the King's
service, and that leave would be refused in future, and he suggested