look haunted me. I did not at once return to
my hotel, but paced the Alameda for hours,
racking my brains to no purpose. And at
length, when the last lounger had dropped
away from the deserted promenade, and there
was nothing to be heard but the rustling of the
night wind through the leaves and the melancholy
splashing of the fountains, I, too, went
home, and, thanks to the habit of a sailor's life,
slept soundly enough.

On the next morning I was early abroad.
While the women were gathering with their
pitchers around the fountains at the corner of
the streets, and the drowsy waiters, half asleep
as yet, were letting down the gaudy awnings in
front of the cafés, I sallied forth from the Hôtel
de l'Alameda, unable to remain inactive, but
with no clearly defined purpose. It was in vain
that I tried hard to be hopeful and sanguine,
and that I repeated to myself, for the twentieth
time, that all would come right, on the return
of Mr. James Edwards. But the young merchant
might not return; he might refuse rny request;
any of the many petty accidents that daily occur
might prevent him from granting me the favour
I sought. And that a life was at stake I could
not doubt. This was Tuesday. To-morrow the
ransom must be forthcoming, or Alice would be
left an orphan. It was in vain that I endeavoured
to persuade myself that the robber captain was
merely practising on the fears of his prisoner,
the better to extort money. I knew but too
well that Moreno was a man of his word in such
matters. Ugly stories, half forgotten, which I
had heard in the city or on the quays, recurred
vividly to my memory now, and in many of these
Moreno's name figured. Nothing was to be
hoped from the bandit's clemency.

To seek the assistance of the authorities might
have seemed a natural step. But this was not
to be thought of. If I complained to the
corregidor, it was probable that that dreaded
functionary would see in the rendezvous at the
village oratory an opportunity of attempting the
capture of the obnoxious Moreno, and would
think more of entrapping the outlaws than of
saving the life of an obscure English heretic.
And any affray between the police and the
robbers would only ensure the butchery of the
helpless captive, while it was notoriously
impossible to hunt down offenders in such a difficult
district as that of the mountains above Malaga.

Meanwhile the preparations for the great bullfight
went gaily on, and as I passed the amphitheatre
I heard the hammers of the workmen
engaged in putting up the striped canopies that
were to shelter the more aristocratic spectators
from the rays of the hot sun. The savage
spectacle of the day was to be an unusually grand
one for Malaga, by no means the Spanish city
where this favourite Spanish sport is exhibited
on the largest scale. But on this occasion the
Captain-General of Andalusia, with some foreign
guests of high rank, were to honour the show
with their company, and the town had gone
to considerable expense in providing for their
entertainment.

As early as I decently could, I called at the
merchant's house, but Mr. James Edwards had,
of course, not yet arrived. I had not expected
him to be there so early, but my impatience
would not let me rest, and I paced the town
like a perturbed spirit, eyeing with indifference
the motley groups of people in holiday attire
who were already astir and chatting merrily
over the anticipated amusements of the festival.
Duty made no call on my time, for, for that
day, the work of freighting the ship was
suspended. Our porters and dock labourers would
not have been tempted to miss the bull-fight,
even by quadruple wages.

At ten o'clock I went to the Crofts' house,
and saw Alice. Poor girl, the dark circles
around her pretty brown eyes, dimmed by weeping,
showed that her sorrows had made the
night a wakeful one for her. She was feverish
and agitated, at one time seeming to partake
the hopes that I expressed in the kindness of
Mr. Edwards, at another, wretched and cast
down, dreading the worst. In case of failure,
her poor little plan was formed. She would go
up, with such a small sum as she could get
together, perhaps one thousand reals, to the
chapel at the foot of the hills, and would try
with prayers and tears to soften the ruffians
who held her father prisoner. She would beg
them to let him live, to restore him to her, and
would promise by degrees to pay the remainder
of the ransom, if she went into service to earn
the money. And she really in her innocent
ignorance appeared to believe in her own power
to melt so hard a heart as that of Moreno, who
was said to have the blood of sixteen victims on
his own hand, and who was at war with the law.

I did not openly oppose this scheme, conscious
that it would be well that Alice should have
something on which her mind could dwell, as a
relief from torturing thoughts. But I determined
that she should not incur so fruitless a
risk by going thus—a lamb among wolves—if I
had to detain her by force. My own heart was
very heavy when I left the dear girl, making
her promise to stay quietly at home and await
my return, and sallied out once more into the
streets of the town, now alive with merry
crowds hurrying to secure good places at the
show. I began to perceive how slight was the
foundation on which my hopes rested, and to
fear, too, that the death of her father would
darken my darling's happy young life, and that
she would lose the sunny freshness of her
youthful mind in the pain of that sharp and
bitter trial. And the unthinking mirth of the
careless pleasure-seekers chafed and galled me,
as the sight of merriment is apt to do in the
hour of suffering.

Noon at last. I went again to the house
of Mr. Edwards. Good news, as I thought,
awaited me. The young merchant, with two
of his friends, had arrived, and, after
partaking of breakfast, had repaired to the
amphitheatre, "like all the world," as the old hag of
a portress, left in charge of the house while all
the other servants were gone to the show, rather