re of
it, but you're rather drunk, Hurst."

"Drunk!" said Hurst; "no, that's quite a mistake; three glasses, I think
it was, of champagne at supper; and you men have sat here drinking punch
all the evening; if any body's drunk, it's not me."

Hurst's usually modest demeanour was certainly so very much altered as
to justify, in some measure, Leicester's supposition; but I really
believe Flora Leicester's bright eyes had more to answer for in that
matter than the champagne, whether the said three glasses were more or
less.

However, as Horace's temper was evidently not improving, Miller, Fane,
and myself wished him good-night, and Hurst came with us. We got him
into Fane's rooms and then extracted from him a full history of the
adventures of that delightful evening, to our infinite amusement, and
apparently to his own immense satisfaction. It was evident that Miss
Flora Leicester had made an impression, of which I do not give that
young lady credit for being in the least unconscious.

The impression, however, like many others of its kind, soon wore off, I
fancy; for the next time I saw Mr Wellington Hurst, he had returned to
his usual frame of mind, and appeared quite modest and deferential; but
it will not perhaps surprise my readers any more than it did myself,
that Horace was never fond of referring to our drive to the
steeple-chase at B----, and did not appear to appreciate, as keenly as
before, the trick we had played Hurst in leaving him behind; while all
the after-reminiscences of the latter bore reference, whenever it was
possible, to his favourite date--"That day when you and I and Leicester
had that team to B---- together."

THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA.

PART III.

"Como un pobre condenado
Agui vivo entre cadenas,
A mi xabega amarrado,
Tendido en esta carena."

_Cancion Andatuza._

In one of the wildest and most secluded of the valleys formed by the
sierra of Urbasa and its contiguous ranges, stands a small cluster of
houses, differing in few respects from the nine or ten hundred villages
and hamlets scattered over the fertile vales and rugged hills of
Navarre, but of which, nevertheless, a brief description may not be
without interest. The village in question is composed of some five-score
houses, for the most part the habitations of peasants, who earn their
living by labour in the fields of the neighbouring proprietors, or, many
of them, by the cultivation of small portio