to wipe out this blot, in the eyes of
her countrymen, by making much of their British allies. Lady Mabel,
tired of her efforts to converse with the other ladies, and sick of
Dona Carlotta's French,

"After the school of Stratford at bow,
For French of Paris was to her unknow"--

longed to see her self-appointed dragoman enter the room.

L'Isle had ridden out in the morning to a place on the borders,
equi-distant between Elvas and Badajoz, the scene of a serious outrage
by a party of marauders two nights before. A peasant, guilty of being
richer than his neighbors, had been punished by having his house
forced, his head broken, his premises sacked, and his family
ill-treated. Though there had been but little blood shed, there had
been much wine spilt, besides several plump goat-skins carried off
with the rest of the plunder. The English in Elvas laid this
achievement at the door of the irregular Spanish force at Badajoz. Tie
Spanish officers were quite as sure that it was the exploit of
volunteer foragers from the English cantonments. L'Isle, seeing nobody
disposed to inquire into the matter, went and made an examination on
the spot, which inclined him to believe that the Spanish version was
the true history of this little military operation. After a hot ride
he returned in time to make his bow to Lady Mabel among the latest of
her guests.

Mrs. Shortridge was very glad to see him, but reproached him with his
late neglect of his friends; and turned toward Lady Mabel, expecting
her concurrence in this censure. But my lady said, with sublime
indifference: "What matters Colonel L'Isle's absence hitherto, since
he has now come in time to interpret between us and our Portuguese
friends? I have exhausted my stock of Portuguese," she continued,
addressing L'Isle; "and find that they do not always comprehend my
Spanish. Major Warren, indeed, has been lending me his aid; but I
think the interpreter the harder to be understood of the two. Is it
not strange these ladies do not understand me better; for their
language is but bad Spanish, and mine is surely bad enough."

"Do not say that to the Portuguese," said L'Isle. "They will be justly
offended; for their tongue is rather the elder sister of the Spanish
than a corruption of it."

"Pray, lend me your tongue, Colonel L'Isle," said Mrs.
Shortridge. "Here Dona Carlotta Sequiera has been jabbering at me in
what I now find out to be French, but I am ashamed to say, I do n