"You are the best judge, of course," said Macdonald, with some confusion. "I merely meant for the best what I said. I dislike discord among brother officers."
"I am aware that your intentions were good,—they always are so, Alister; but change the subject. How did you like Almendralejo?"
"Not well: a dull place it is, and the dons are very quarrelsome."
"Ay, I remember your letter mentioning two brawls with the inhabitants."
"Your servant, Mr. Iverach, and that rogue Mackie, of your own company, were the heroes of one."
"I should be glad to hear the story now. My servant has often mentioned it, when I had neither time nor inclination to listen."
"There is an old abogado at Almendralejo," answered Macdonald, "a fierce old fellow he is, with bristling moustaches twisted up to his very ears, and eyes like those of a hawk,—the Senor Sancho de los Garcionadas the people there call him for shortness, but he has a name as long as a Welsh pedigree. This lawyer dwells, of course, in one of the best houses in the town, and on him Iverach and Angus Mackie were billeted. He has a daughter, whom I have seen on the Prado, a fine-looking girl, with regular features, Spanish eyes, and Spanish ankles,—quite bewitching, in fact; and although she has not Donna Catalina's stately and splendid appearance, yet she is plump as a partridge, and rosy, pretty, and merry as can be imagined. Her beauty completely vanquished the heart of Mackie, on whom she had cast favourable glances, for he is what Campbell calls one of the duchess's picked men, (a strapping Blair-Athole man, from the mountain of Bein Meadhonaidh).
"A very agreeable correspondence ensued between them, but how they managed I cannot tell, as neither knew a word of the other's language, and Angus speaks more Gaelic than English; so I suppose they conversed by the eyes instead of the mouth.
"There is a French writer who exclaims, 'Ah! what eloquence is so powerful as the language of two charming eyes!'[*] and very probably Master Angus (whom I now see trudging away yonder with his knapsack on) found this to be the case. At last the abogado began to suspect what was going on, and his blood boiled up at the idea that the Scottish private soldier should have the presumption to address his daughter, and the treacherous old fox hatched a very nice, but very cowardly, plan for cutting off poor Mackie.
[*] The author of the "Memoirs of Madame de Maintenon."