the city, I wandered towards the country. My thoughts fixed but upon
one theme, I had neither ears nor eyes for aught around me; the great
difficulty of my present position now appearing to me in this light,--my
attachment to Lucy Dashwood, unrequited and unreturned as I felt it,
did not permit of my rebutting any report which might have reached her
concerning Donna Inez. I had no right, no claim to suppose her sufficiently
interested about me to listen to such an explanation, had I even the
opportunity to make it. One thing was thus clear to me,--all my hopes had
ended in that quarter; and as this conclusion sank into my mind, a species
of dogged resolution to brave my fortune crept upon me, which only waited
the first moment of my meeting her to overthrow and destroy forever.

Meanwhile I walked on,--now rapidly, as some momentary rush of passionate
excitement, now slowly, as some depressing and gloomy notion succeeded;
when suddenly my path was arrested by a long file of bullock cars which
blocked up the way. Some chance squabble had arisen among the drivers, and
to avoid the crowd and collision, I turned into a gateway which opened
beside me, and soon found myself in a lawn handsomely planted and adorned
with flowering shrubs and ornamental trees.

In the half-dreamy state my musings had brought me to, I struggled to
recollect why the aspect of the place did not seem altogether new. My
thoughts were, however, far away,--now blending some memory of my distant
home with scenes of battle and bloodshed, or resting upon my first
interview with her whose chance word, carelessly and lightly spoken, had
written the story of my life. From this revery I was rudely awakened by a
rustling noise in the trees behind me, and before I could turn my head, the
two fore-paws of a large stag-hound were planted upon my shoulders, while
the open mouth and panting tongue were close beside my face. My day-dream
was dispelled quick as lightning; it was Juan, himself, the favorite dog of