Hope having drawn him from sad meditations, as he rapidly pursued his way towards the south of Spain, he could not but obey the voice of nature, which called on him from valley and from mountain, to behold her vast and wonderous creations.

The royal province of Castile, traversed by rivers, and populous with cities, conducted him to the extensive plains of La Mancha. Here the palladian palaces north of the Guadiana, and avenued with glowing vistas, were exchanged for heavy and sombre hamlets spread under the shade of thick groves, and dark with the clusters of the black grape. But in architecture alone, these villages were gloomy and uninviting. It was the season of the vintage, and the whole scene teemed with life and gaiety. Louis passed through it, enjoying with the sympathy of benevolence, the happiness he saw. In front lay a mountainous desart. Here he exchanged his vehicle for two stout mules used to the precipitous road; and with Lorenzo, entered the new region.

They were now in the Sierra Morena, which separates La Mancha from the Hesperian vales of Andalusia. The passes of the mountain were long, winding, and melancholy; but the moment he crossed its high misty ridge, Louis felt a difference in the atmosphere, amazing and grateful in its contrast, as the luxuriant landscape before him, when opposed to the frowning sterility behind.

"That is Andalusia!" exclaimed Lorenzo, pointing down to the fairest piedmont of Spain. Louis knew there was not a rill or a hillock in that ample province, which did not once owe tribute to his family; he also knew how they had been lost; and with mingled feelings, he turned to the careless voice of Lorenzo, remarking on the beauties of the view.

On one side, towards the east, extended the pastoral hills of Jaen, backed by the snowy summits of the distant Sierra Nevada of Grenada; the last retreat of the Moors, before their final expulsion from Spain. Louis thought on the latter circumstance, as those storied mountains stood bright in the glowing sky. He recollected, that amongst these persecuted people, was Don Ferdinand de Valor, one of his own progenitors; and that his attachment to the Moorish cause had occasioned the first sequestration of the Ripperda territories to the Spanish Kings. He did not utter his reflections; but deeply ruminating, gave the reins to his mule, and slowly descended the heights.

With this humble equipage, and by the side of a single attendant, he entered the principality of his fathers. Over those very hills and vallies, where the heroes of his name had conducted armies to assist or to repel the sovereigns of Spain, he was journeying to seek the representative of all their honours, an exiled fugitive in a foreign land!—But William de Ripperda was not less worthy of their blood! And the last of their race, did not blush at the banishment of a parent, whose crimes were his virtues.

"My noble, glorious father!" exclaimed he, inwardly, as he looked upwards; that look conveyed his vow to heaven. To think only of that father; to exult only in his virtue; to mourn only his affliction; and to regard his weal or woe, as the only future objects of his own.

When he crossed the Guadalquivir, Lorenzo checked his mule.

"From this spot, to the banks of the Xenil;" said he, "a track of many leagues, is the Marquisate of Montemar. The castle stands on a high promontory, far to the west, on the latter river. I never shall forget the joy of the country, when the Duke de Ripperda paid it a visit, on his return from Vienna."

Louis looked on the silver flood, on each side of the noble bridge they were crossing. He, then, was lord of that branch of the magnificent Guadalquivir! The lands he saw bore his name; the people who tilled them, owed him homage; and he was passing through all, a stranger, and unknown!

He descended from the bridge into a sinuous track, between long plantations of olives; under whose refreshing foliage, the low vines, and the waving corn, were alternately spreading their clusters, or their yellow tops to the sun. Here again, were the reaper, and the joyous treaders of the wine-press. He listened to their jocund voices; their guitars, castanets, and bounding steps; and he could not forbear thinking, with some emotion of displeasure; how little did the memory of him live in their hearts, whose paternal policies had secured to them the fruits of their labour! As long as they were happy, it seemed the same to them, whether their benefactor were on a throne or in a prison!

But it was human nature, consistent with itself, which forgets the Providence that blesses, in the enjoyment of his gifts. The friend of man must, therefore, imitate his Creator; and pouring his good on those who need it, the just and the unjust, look for gratitude in the world to come.

The travellers again occupied a wheeled carriage, and pursued their journey with rapidity. In some parts they traversed extensive forests, sublime in sylvan grandeur; then they wound through the shady defiles of intersecting hills, or passed through towns and villages, whose light and airy architecture bore evidence of Moresco origin; all around was a fair garden. But there was a bound; a wall of mountains rose before them, shooting up into the azure heavens, in sharp and menacing peaks.

Here they resumed their mules. The first part of the ascent was gradual; and as Louis mounted the rugged acclivities, (sometimes on foot, to scale the highest points, while his beast rested;) he saw, winding along the less abrupt tracks, the shepherds of the plains, driving their flocks to the recesses of the upland pastures. The practice is the same in Scotland; and the similitude pleased one, who had passed some of his happiest hours amongst the Highland hills.

But the image of him, who was then his dear and trusted companion, rose with the remembrance. He saw him bounding down the breezy height; his plaid streaming in the air; and his feathered bonnet in his hand, as he whistled gaily, and waved him from afar. Louis closed his eyes, to shut out the association with the scene; but it would not do. The glad smile of perfect confidence still shone on the visionary lip; the eyes of the persecuting phantom continued to sparkle with greeting intelligence; and even his voice seemed to sound in his ear!—Louis shuddered to the soul, and spurring his mule, dashed forward amongst beetling rocks and caverned ruins. They had once been a magnificent work of man. An aqueduct, built by the Romans; and its remains clasped the mouth of the pass which leads to the interior of the mountains. Hence it was called the Puerta de Ronda; as these were the peaks of that name, which stretch their stony ramparts between the plains of Andalusia and the borders of the sea. The Sierra de Ronda surpasses in desolate grandeur, even the sublime wastes of the Morena mountains. No vegitation crowned these vast colossal rocks; bare to the sun and tempest, they looked like the huge altar of nature, to which avenging Jove bound the consuming, but still immortal Prometheus. All around was either acclivity or precipice; and from between two high pyramidal craggs, Louis caught his first view of the Mediterranean.

A small fishing town was scattered about a little bay at the foot of the mountain. Lorenzo proposed hiring a vessel there, to take them immediately round to Gibraltar; and his master readily acquiesced in a plan which would exempt him from the obstacles that might accrue, should he enter the fortress by the Spanish lines. Louis was to remain in the mountain, to watch the mules, and Lorenzo descend by a near foot-path he had discovered cut in the precipice, to the sea shore. Before they parted, a spot was fixed on amongst the rocks, as a place of rendezvous.

When Lorenzo was gone, Louis bound the animals to the remains of an old wooden cross, which had been erected to mark a place of murder; and putting down their corn before them, on a spot where grass would never grow; he ascended a higher promontory, to see whether he could discern any part of the embattled heights of Gibraltar. But the lofty crest he sought was not within the mountainous horizon. Broken pinnacles of granite, shattered by the deluge; and fathomless abysms, that made the eye giddy even to glance at, hemmed him around. As he contemplated the hideous solitude, voices suddenly sounded near him. It was not his intention to listen, but before he could move, he heard the name of his father, pronounced in a rough, guttural tone. He paused breathlessly. The speakers were invisible; and the last who spoke, continued affirming to the other, that "the Duke de Ripperda was still as able as he was willing, to reward all who did him service." "Prove it to me," replied his comrade, "and you shall find me ready."

"Look at this purse of ducats!" replied the other, "he will load your felucca with bags of the same, if you carry the merchandize he bargains for!"

A low shelving cliff, and some broken rock, divided Louis from the speakers. He saw the dark points of their Montero caps, under the cragg; and vaulting from his more elevated situation, stood before them. They were two strong-bodied men, with fierce, independent countenances; and starting on their feet, they also stood resolutely, and eyed the no less commanding, though youthful figure, which so boldly advanced to them.

Louis saw by their wild garb they were smugglers, and of the Gustanos tribe, the gypsies of Spain. Lorenzo had pointed out some of these people to him in the Sierra Morena; and explained their daring lives, with their outlawed condition. Some carried on their desperate traffic on the high seas, and others, in wandering bands, vended their forbidden merchandize over the face of the country. But they all called themselves Seranos; being the generic name for the inhabitants of these fastnesses of nature; and as such Louis addressed them.

"Brave Seranos!" cried he, as he approached them; "you speak of the Duke de Ripperda, as if you had seen him lately. I am seeking him, and any facility you may give me, shall not be unrewarded."

The men looked on each other; but the elder of the two, striking the head of a huge hatchet into his belt, to shew he was in a condition not to be trifled with; answered Louis, by demanding in his turn, how he knew that they had any concern with the Duke de Ripperda.

"By accident. I stood by my mule, on the other side of the cliff; and heard you discourse of the Duke, as if you had recently parted from him. Was it at Gibraltar?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

"If you are an emissary of his enemies," replied the smuggler, "you had best return to your mule. I am not the man to betray a friend."

The blunt honour of the outlaw bore its own evidence to Louis; and without a second thought, he answered:—

"I am his son."

"It may be so;" replied the man, "but you are also a courtier; and flesh and blood of that cast are rarely to be trusted. If you dare face the truth, follow me. You will find a man behind that rock, who may tell you what I will not."

"Who might I see there?"

"One that knows whether the Duke de Ripperda has a son."

"His name?" demanded Louis, who observed a strange, treacherous leer in the wild countenance of the other man.

"Martini d'Urbino," returned his comrade.

Louis did not hesitate: "I follow you."

The smuggler led the way, down a circuitous ravine, to the mouth of a cavern. Several mules were feeding near its entrance. Louis heard the sound of boisterous jollity; and as he advanced, he discerned, in the depth of the cave, many persons seated on the ground, under the light of a huge iron lamp that hung from the roof.

Had he wished to recede, retreat would have been impossible. But all thoughts of personal hazard were lost in the one eager desire of learning some certain tidings of his father. The smugglers' communications to each other, being uttered when they were ignorant of being overheard, and, therefore, when they could have no intention to deceive, had awakened doubts in him of Ripperda having reached Gibraltar. Perhaps he had been overtaken by his enemies; and was now secretly managing with these adventurous men, to effect his escape from some second Alcazar in the bosom of the mountains! The minister's silence to Santa Cruz, or even to the Queen, on such a re-capture, was no argument against its probability; and impressed with these apprehensions, Louis hurried onward, impatient to see Martini, and to learn how he might yet reach his father.

At the mouth of the cavern he stopped. His guides drew close to him. They saw no sign of intimidation in his face; and the former spokesman stepping forward, announced to his comrades the arrival of a stranger, who called himself the son of the Duke de Ripperda. Every man rose at a moment, and with a murmur, and a clangor of heavy arms against the rocky floor, that might have appalled more veteran nerves. Louis comprehended his danger. His eye had ranged at a glance through the crowd, and he saw no Martini. He recoiled a step, and placing his hand on his sword, said in a firm voice:—

"Gentlemen! I am here, on the faith of that man. He brought me to meet Martini d'Urbino, my father's servant; and I demand to see him."

The smuggler put his hand upon the arm of Louis.

"Signor, you have a stout heart. From that alone, I believe you to be what you say. Enter the cavern, and you will find the man."

The smuggler turned, and said something in an unknown language to his comrades. Louis regarded him with a dauntless, but stern brow; for while he spoke, the men drew gradually around, though at some little distance, muttering to each other, and fixing their eyes on their prisoner. Such Louis believed himself to be. The only point that was open for his advance was into the cave. All seemed vacancy there, excepting the pendent lamp, which shewed the fragments of the yet unfinished revel.

"Can my father be reduced to league with men like these?"

It was frenzy to suppose it; and if it were not so, Louis himself were lost. He had gone too far to retreat; and with a step, which announced the resolution with which he would defend his life, should it be assailed, he went forward into the den.

The captain of the band followed him. He passed him, and was immediately obscured in the deeper gloom of the interior rock. Louis saw no human being in the wide range, though many might be hidden in the shadowy depths of its farther excavations. He fixed himself with his back against the side of the cavern; and with his hand on his sword, stedfastly regarded the spot where the smuggler disappeared.

His comrades remained without, and evidently watched any egress unsanctioned by their chief.

Louis heard the advance of hasty steps from the interior vaults. He planted himself more firmly in his position, and half drew his weapon. The smuggler emerged from the recesses with another person, and in the instant of his appearance, pointed to Louis, and said to his companion:—

"Do you know that cavalier?"

The twain were in the deepest shadow of the rock; hence Louis could not distinguish, otherwise than by the voice, which of the two were his conductor. But himself being on a spot where the light fell direct on his face, the immediate response to the demand of the smuggler, was an amazed cry:—

"It is the Marquis de Montemar!" "'Tis well!" rejoined the outlaw, "else he must have slept without his ancestors."

The voice of him who had recognised Louis, was indeed Martini's; and that faithful servant was the next moment at the feet of his master's son.

The smuggler joined his comrades on the rock; and Louis immediately enquired the fate of his father. To his astonishment, Martini informed him that more than two months ago, that very man had conveyed the Duke to the coast of Barbary.

"Had he been refused admission into Gibraltar?"

"No; he had never sought it."

"What was his object in going to Barbary?"

To this, Martini gave a confused and unsatisfactory reply. All that Louis could gather from his agitated and sometimes contradictory accounts, was, that after their escape from the Alcazar, and during their progress towards the sea, his master never emerged from an intense reverie, except to give orders; and then he only delivered his commands and strait was profoundly silent again. It was not until they reached the borders of the Mediterranean, that the object of his meditation seemed explained. While Martini was foddering down his weary mules, Ripperda entered the shed, accompanied by Roderigo the smuggler. In few words, he declared his intention to embark that night for Tangier; and asked Martini whether he chose to share his fortunes in that land, or to return whence he came. Martini swore to live and die with him; and the next sun rose upon Ripperda in the kingdom of the Moors.

This intelligence confounded Louis; it was so contrary to his father's written intention, and so totally inexplicable on any principle of his former conduct. While Martini gave his hurried narration, he did it with evident fear of saying too much; and yet he appeared hovering on the point of saying more. Louis told him, there was something in his manner that excited his suspicions. He feared he withheld some communication, which, as the son of the Duke de Ripperda, he ought to know. Martini's confusion encreased with the earnest remonstrance of his young master; and, at last he confessed, that the Duke was engaged in some projects, the consequences of which he dreaded, but he was bound by oath not to betray.

"His Excellency," continued he, "has laid the same bonds on Rodrigo; who, with other men of his trade, are sworn to serve him. My present errand to Spain, was to bring away certain treasures he left at the Castle de Montemar. They are now on the backs of the mules you saw feeding without; and, by to-morrow night, they will be in Barbary."

Louis was lost in conjecture. "Are you sure, Martini, my father received no insulting repulse from Gibraltar?"

"I am sure, he never made any application there."

"It is very extraordinary!—But you dare not satisfy me. I will know it all from himself; and, whatever may be his reasons, his destiny shall be mine."

Martini now acknowledged to Louis, that Ripperda's indignation was so high against him, there could not be a hope of his admitting him to his presence.

"Every day, my Lord," continued the faithful creature, "he names you in his general maledictions on the ungrateful world; he names you in terms, that I have often deprecated from you on my knees; and, as often he has commanded me from his sight, till I knew how to distinguish between loyalty and parricide."

"But I do not deserve his curse, Martini," replied Louis, "and I will appear before him. He shall not want a comforter, and an honourable confidant, while he has a son. You must engage this Rodrigo, to give me a passage in his vessel."

Martini went out of the cavern to prevail on the smuggler to this purpose, and Louis was left to his bewildering thoughts. That he saw the usually festive spirits of the Italian so completely subdued, redoubled the uneasiness with which he considered the vow that had been exacted from him and the smugglers. Louis's open and honourable mind shrunk from such ill-assorted mystery; till finding some condemnation of his father in this repugnance, he reproached himself for having conceived the nameless dread he felt creeping over him. He recalled his injured parent's undeviating career of public virtue; he dwelt on the magnanimous features of his character; and could find no argument in either, to sanction his present inexpressible forebodings.

"Yet why," cried he, "does he take refuge with infidels; why associate his honourable name with these desperate men?"

After he had settled with Rodrigo the terms of his voyage to the opposite coast; he and Martini repaired to the rock he had appointed to Lorenzo for their mutual rendezvous. Lorenzo was sitting by the mules, anxiously awaiting the appearance of his master, when he descried him on the heights with his companion. It was now deep twilight; but the light was sufficient when the latter drew near, for Lorenzo to recognise his brother; and the lively pleasure of their meeting, was only checked by recollection of the calamitous situation of their respective lords.

Lorenzo informed his master, he could not procure a boat to go round to Gibraltar; the strait being too much infested with Barbary pirates, for small vessels to put to sea. Martini sighed heavily, at this information. Louis attributed it, to apprehension for the treasure he had to convey, and made a remark to that purpose.

"No," replied the Italian, "Rodrigo carries a safe conduct; nevertheless, I am Catholic enough, to wish every corsair at the bottom of the sea!"

A few minutes communicated to Lorenzo, that his master's voyage was now to be to Barbary, where the Duke de Ripperda was already arrived. The faithful servant regarded all places alike, to which he was to follow his Lord; and, having received his orders, he went apart with Martini, to discuss, with freedom, the subjects most interesting to them both.

The night was balmy and serene; and Louis kept his station in the open air. After their conference, the brothers drew near, and slept by his side; but he watched and mused, and silently prayed to Him who was above the stars. The moon arose. As he contemplated that lovely planet; considering it as walking in beauty and loneliness, like the youthful saint who had urged him to persist in the virtue that was his principle, he could, almost, have bowed to the bright similitude. But, when he recollected that, by the vague light of this very moon, the secret depredator crept from his covert; and each deed that shuns the ken of man, steals upon his slumbers, he shuddered; and turning from its beams,—beheld the long shadow of a figure approaching him. It was Rodrigo from the beach beneath. He came to say, that his men were on board, the packages stowed, and all were ready to sail.

In the course of half an hour Louis found himself on board an out-law's vessel, with the crescent of Mahommed flying from the mast. This, was the "safe conduct" Martini spoke of; and was sufficient to protect him from the corsairs. Their light galliots scudded by in every direction, and hailed the smuggler as he passed; Rodrigo stood on the deck with a turban on his head, replying, through a trumpet, in the barbarous slang of rapine.

The dark blue sea, innocent of the guilty keels which shot across its bosom, heaved its reflecting waves under the brilliant orbs of a midnight African sky. All was tranquil; all in harmony with the first fiat of its creator; excepting the breast of rapacious man; excepting the heart of an anxious son, ruminating on conjectures, hopes, and fears. He leaned on the railing of the deck, in a more wretched state of mind, than he could have believed possible to be his, when approaching the goal of his many prayers: the presence of his father. There was something within him, that would not be satisfied with his present companions; with his father having made such men his confidential agents; and, in the midst of his troubled thoughts, he often murmured to himself—

"Oh, why did he fly!"

The night continued bright, and the wind fair; and, having smoothly passed Europa point, the little vessel turned into the strait between the far-famed pillars of Hercules,—Calpe and Abyla. Louis gazed on both; on the fortified heights of the one, on the barren cliffs of the other. He thought on Gerizim and Ebal.—On one, rests the blessing; on the other, the curse! "Chuse ye, between them!"