On seeing his master enter hastily, Tom, who had laid in all the wine,
and most of the food set before him, got up respectfully to receive
his orders; while with a full mouth he mumbled out: "Prayer and
provender hinder no man's journey."

"You abridge the proverb in practice," said L'Isle, "leaving out the
prayer to gain time to take care of the provender." Then sitting down
at the table, he took out a paper and began to note down what he had
observed in Badajoz. "There is nothing very tempting here," said he
presently, glancing his eye over Tom's scanty leavings, "but a
luncheon will not be amiss; so I will take what I can find, while you
saddle the horses."

It was late in the day when L'Isle left Badajoz; but instead of
posting back to Elvas, as he had come from it, he rode slowly on,
sometimes lost in thought, at times gazing on the scene around him.
Many objects along the road brought vividly back to him the incidents
of that pleasant excursion, so lately taken in company with Lady
Mabel. Here she had turned her horse aside for a moment, to pluck some
blossoms from this carob-tree, which stands alone on the sandy plain
around it; here, on the bank of the Cayo, was the spot where she had
pressed so close up beside him for protection, in the dark, on the
first alarm of danger before them; there stood the old watch-tower,
which they had examined together with interest, speculating on its
history, lost in by-gone ages; crossing the stream here, further on,
were the prints of her horses hoofs on the steep, pebbly bank, as she
had turned suddenly from the road, to ride up to the mysterious old
ruin.