Sir Rowland's division lay two days in Toledo. On the evening before they marched, Ronald made a tour of the city to view all worth seeing. After visiting the famous sword manufactory, which yet flourishes as of old, he bent his steps towards the cathedral, the doors of which (like those of all continental churches) stood open day and night. It was almost dark when he entered it, and the appearance of that vast temple, when involved in gloom and mystery, is fully calculated to impress the mind with holy sadness, with pure veneration, and with awe. The pale light of the moon and stars, twinkling through eighty-six tinted and traceried windows, glimmered alternately on the scores of massive and magnificent columns that upheld the lofty roof, and showing them where the perspective of "the long-drawn aisles" vanished away in darkness and obscurity. Six tall candles twinkled before the dark painting on the altar, and many holy tapers gleamed fitfully in far recesses before the shrines and images of Eugenius, Casilda, Ildefonso, Leocadia, and other favourite saints of Toledo, before which many a solitary devotee knelt on the cold pavement in earnest prayer.
The dark figures of monks and cavaliers,—the latter in broad hats and long cloaks, were gliding noiselessly about, adding greatly to the general effect of the scene. They moved like shadows: scarcely a foot-fall was heard as they trod lightly on the carved stones, beneath which sleep many a king and queen of fair Castile,—many a proud grandee and redoubtable warrior.
After endeavouring to decipher by the dim light of a neighbouring shrine the pompous inscriptions on the marble tombs of the great Don Alvar de Luna, Cardinal Mendoza, and others, Ronald turned to leave the place, his mind filled with admiration and enthusiasm at its vastness, grandeur, solemnity, and magnificence. As he passed down one of the side-aisles, indulging in a train of these fine sentiments, they were cut short, somewhat abruptly, by a person coming violently against him in the dark.
"Sir, you are very unceremonious," cried Ronald angrily, feeling for his sword. "What do you mean by coming against me thus rudely?"
"I believe I may, without injustice, ask the same question of you," answered a familiar voice; and as they advanced from between the columns into the light of a shrine, Ronald beheld with surprise the face of Louis Lisle.
"I did not expect you so very suddenly, and especially here at Toledo," said he, dubious in what manner to greet his old friend, whose features became at once clouded by the cold and stern expression which they had generally worn of late, especially since the hour in which he beheld the interview between Stuart and Catalina in the cottage at Almarez. "You have made expedition in your march from Lisbon."
"I arrived here about two hours ago, with a detachment of convalescents from Belem. You are aware that the division marches at sun-rise to-morrow; so I wish to see the cathedral before leaving Toledo," and turning coldly, he was about to move off.
"Louis Lisle," exclaimed Ronald, suddenly and fiercely, as he strode before and intercepted him, while all his long pent up indignation broke forth uncontrollably; "halt, sir! You shall not stir one pace from the spot until I have spoken with you. We must come to an explanation; my own honour demands it. Whence is it, that you treat me in this studied, cold, and insolent manner, and have ever done so since that hour in which we met on the plain at La Nava?"
"Recall to mind your conduct on that occasion, and I presume you are sufficiently answered," was the cold reply.
"Lisle—Lisle!" exclaimed Ronald bitterly, "when children, when youths at home in our own country among the woods of Inchavon and Lochisla, we were constant companions and friends,—brothers in all but blood. Oh! why should it be otherwise now?'