e of a man who had seen in
the grand hero of Cervantes no follies to satirize, but high virtues to
imitate. Poor Quixote himself,--he came mournfully back to his La Mancha
with no other reward for his knight-errantry than a decoration, which
he disdained to place beside his simple Waterloo medal, and a grade
for which he would have blushed to resign his more modest, but more
honorable, English dignity.

But still weaving hopes, the sanguine man returned to his Penates. His
child now had grown from infancy into boyhood,--the child would pass
naturally into his care. Delightful occupation! At the thought, home
smiled again.

Now behold the most pernicious circumstance in this ill-omened
connection.

The father of Ramouna had been one of that strange and mysterious
race which presents in Spain so many features distinct from the
characteristics of its kindred tribes in more civilized lands. The
Gitano, or gypsy of Spain, is not the mere vagrant we see on our commons
and road-sides. Retaining, indeed, much of his lawless principles and
predatory inclinations, he lives often in towns, exercises various
callings, and not unfrequently becomes rich. A wealthy Gitano had
married a Spanish woman; (1) Roland's wife had been the offspring of
this marriage. The Gitano had died while Ramouna was yet extremely
young, and her childhood had been free from the influences of her
paternal kindred. But though her mother, retaining her own religion, had
brought up Ramouna in the same faith, pure from the godless creed of the
Gitano, and at her husband's death had separated herself wholly from his
tribe, still she had lost caste with her own kin and people. And while
struggling to regain it, the fortune, which made her sole chance of
success in that attempt, was swept away, so that she had remained
apart and solitary, and could bring no friends to cheer the solitude
of Ramouna during Roland's absence. But while my uncle was still in the
service of Ferdinand, the widow died; and then the only relatives who
came round Ramouna were her father's kindred. They had not ventured to
claim affinity while her mother lived, and they did so now by attentions
and caresses to her son. This opened to them at once Ramouna's heart
and doors. Meanwhile the English nurse--who, in spite of all that could
render her abode odious to her, had, from strong love to her charge,
stoutly maintained her post--died, a few weeks after Ramouna's mother;
and no healthful