The roofs of the suburban quintas showed themselves here and there
above the orchards, and by the roadside the _iris alata_ bloomed on
every bank.

The air is balmy, the scene lovely, and all nature smiling with the
sweet promises of Spring. Is this the goddess Flora leading down a
joyous train to the fields below? It is only Lady Mabel cantering
somewhat recklessly down hill. When she reached the more level ground,
she so far out-rode the ladies of her party, who were mounted on
mules, that, tired of loitering for them to come up, she proposed to
L'Isle, who had kept by her side, to employ their leisure in ascending
the bare hill on their left, to examine the old tower, that stood
solitary and conspicuous on its top. From the clearness of the
atmosphere it seemed nearer than it was, and the broken ground
compelled them to make a circuit before they reached it. Hence they
looked down upon their friends, crawling at a snail's pace along the
road to Badajoz. They rode round the weather-beaten, ruinous tower. It
was square, with only one small entrance, many feet above the ground,
and leading into a small room amidst the thick walls.

"What could this have been built for?" Lady Mabel asked.

"It is one of those watch-towers called _atalaias_," answered
L'Isle. "Many of them are scattered along the heights on the border.
They are memorials of an age in which one of people's chief
occupations was watching against the approach of their neighbors."

"Stirring times, those," said Lady Mabel. "People could not then
complain that their vigilance was lulled to sleep by too great
security; but this is, perhaps, a more comfortable age."