such circumstances--felt a fresh
impulse to festivity and enjoyment in Euchar's unexpected return, and
besieged him with enquiries as to where he had been and what had
happened to him during his absence.

"What has really brought me here," said Euchar, "is the obligation
which I am under to keep my promise of two years ago that I would tell
you a good deal more of my friend Edgar's history, and put a copestone
upon it such as our friend the Poet thought it wanted. As I can now
assure you that no dark clouds have come over his path, that there have
been no deeds of violence, but that, on the contrary, as the ladies
wished, my story will be concerned with a rather romantic love-affair,
I feel sure that I may reckon upon a fair measure of approval."

All applauded, and speedily formed into a narrower ring. Euchar at once
commenced as follows--

I pass over in silence the warlike adventures which Edgar met with
while fighting in company with the Guerillas--although _they_ were
sufficiently romantic--contenting myself with explaining that the
talisman which Don Rafaele Marchez gave him when parting with him, was
a little ring inscribed with mystic characters, which showed that he
was an initiate in the most secret of the confederacies or societies;
thus assuring him, wherever he might be, of the most absolute and
unlimited confidence of those acquainted with those signs, and
rendering all danger such as he had been exposed to in Valenzia
impossible.

Soon afterwards he joined the English forces, and served under
Wellington. He was never touched by a hostile bullet again, and when
the campaign was over he returned to his own country safe and sound.
Don Rafaele Marchez he had never seen again, nor had he heard anything
of his further fortunes.

Edgar had been a long while back in his native town, when, one day, Don
Rafaele's little ring (which he always wore on his finger) disappeared
under peculiar circumstances. Early on the morning of the day following
this, a queer little fellow came into his room, held the missing ring
up to him, and asked him if it was his. When Edgar replied that it was,
the little man cried out excitedly in Spanish--

"Oh, _you are_ Don Edgar; there can be no doubt about it." And then
Edgar clearly remembered the face and figure of the little fellow, who
was Don Rafaele's faithful servant, the same who had displayed the lion
courage of despair in trying to save his master's daughter.

"In th