(OF 3) ***




Produced by Al Haines.





                         *THE ROMANCE OF WAR:*

                                  OR,

                        THE HIGHLANDERS IN SPAIN


                                   BY

                           JAMES GRANT, ESQ.

                         _Late 62nd Regiment._



          "In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome,
          From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come;
        Our loud-sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain,
         And our hearts still the old Scottish valour retain."
                          _Lt.-Gen. Erskine._



                           IN THREE VOLUMES.

                               VOL. III.



                                LONDON:
                       HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
                       GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
                                 1846.




                                LONDON:
             PRINTED BY MAURICE AND CO., HOWFORD BUILDINGS,
                           FENCHURCH STREET.




                               *CONTENTS*

Chapter

      I. Hostilities--A Love Letter
     II. The Ball.--The Bull-Fight.--An Adventure
    III. The Skirmish of Fuente Duenna.  The Leaguer of Alba de Tormes
     IV. Angus Mackie
      V. An Adventure.  A Highland Legend
     VI. A Battle
    VII. An Out-Picquet Adventure
   VIII. Pass of Maya.--Pyrenees
     IX. The Block-house.  Mina
      X. The Chatelet
     XI. Passage of the Nive




                         *THE ROMANCE OF WAR.*



                              *CHAPTER I.*

                     *HOSTILITIES--A LOVE LETTER.*


    "Were not my right hand fetter'd by the thought,
    That slaying thee were but a double guilt
    In which to steep my soul, no bridegroom ever
    Stepp'd forth to trip a measure with his bride
    More joyfully than I, young man, would rush
    To meet thy challenge."
      _Macduff's Cross_, p. 26.


Boiling with rage at Louis's insulting defiance, Ronald returned to his
quarters in the Alcanzar, determined at day-break to summon him forth,
to fight or apologize.  He often repeated the words, "Her heart has
never wandered from you."  Ah! if this should indeed be the case, and
that Alice loved him after all!  But from Louis, his honour demanded a
full explanation and ample apology, either of which he feared the proud
spirit of the other would never stoop to grant.  Yet, to level a deadly
weapon against the brother of Alice,--against him to whom he had been a
constant friend and companion in childhood and maturer youth, and
perhaps by a single shot to destroy him, the hopes and the peace of his
amiable father and sister, he felt that should this happen, he never
could forgive himself.  But there was no alternative: it was death or
dishonour.

Two ways lay before him,--to fight or not to fight; and his sense of
injured honour made him, without hesitation, choose the first, and he
waited in no ordinary anxiety for the dawn, when Alister Macdonald, who
was absent on duty, would return to the quarters of the regiment.

Next morning, when the grey daylight was beginning faintly to show the
dark courts and gloomy arcades of the Alcanzar, he sprung from his
couch, which had been nothing else than his cloak laid on the polished
floor tiles; and undergoing a hasty toilette, he was about to set forth
in search of Macdonald, when Lieutenant Chisholm, one of the officers,
entered.

"What! up already, Stuart?" said he; "I hope you are not on any duty?"

"No.  Why?"

"Because Lisle has asked me to wait upon you."

"Upon _me_?" asked Ronald, with a frown of surprise.  "Upon me,
Chisholm?"

"Yes: of course you will remember what occurred in the cathedral last
night?"

"How could I ever forget?  Mr. Lisle, under its roof, insulted me most
grossly," replied Ronald, his lips growing white with anger.  "I was
just about to seek Macdonald to give him a message, but Mr. Lisle has
anticipated me."

"For Heaven's sake, Stuart, let us endeavour to settle this matter
amicably!  Think of the remorse which an honourable survivor must always
feel.  A hundred men slain in action are nothing to one life lost in a
duel."

"Address these words to your principal,--they are lost on me; but you
are an excellent fellow