The Actress in High Life | Page 3

than his companion. He, too, is the man in authority as, from time to
time, he directs the party and urges them on in somewhat impatient
tones.
If you are familiar with the country and the times, you may imagine
that some British general officer has been so long in the peninsula, that
he has adopted the style and equipage of Cuesta, and some other
Spanish leaders, and fallen into their habits of slow and dignified
motion. You will think it high time for him to be sent home, that some
one less luxurious and stately, but more alert and energetic, may fill his
place. One look into the coach will undeceive you. Its chief occupant is
a lady, whose years do not exceed nineteen; and she is evidently no
native of Alemtejo, nor of Portugal; and might have been sent out
hither as a specimen of what a more northern country can occasionally
produce. While she looks out with deep, yet lively interest on the
scenery before and around her, you naturally gaze with deeper interest
only upon her. Her companion is her maid, some years older than
herself, who might be worth looking at, were her mistress out of the
way.
One of the orderlies, turning in his saddle, now points out the city to the
old man, who, in turn, leans over to the coach window, and calls out,
"My lady, there is Elvas!"
"And my father is in Elvas!" She leans eagerly out of the window; but
the front of the clumsy vehicle obstructs the view, and she calls out,
"Stop the coach, Moodie, and let me out. I will not go one step further
until I have taken a good look at Elvas."
The old man testily orders a halt. The footman opens the door, and the
lady springs lightly out, followed by her maid. Neglecting all other
objects in sight, she gazes long and eagerly at the city seated on the hill.

The interest she shows is no longer merely that of observant curiosity,
but is prompted by the gushing affections of the heart. In Elvas, besides
much new and strange, there is something known and loved.
She now begins to question the orderlies as to the exact spot where her
father has quartered himself; but the old man interrupts her:
"You have traveled a long way, my lady, to get to Elvas, but you will
never reach it while you stand looking at it and spiering about it."
"Very true, old Wisdom. How comes it that you are always in the right?
Let us push on now, and in an hour," she exclaims, stepping into the
coach, "I will see my father, for the first time since I was fourteen."
The coach moves on, but too slowly for her. Leaning out of the window,
and surveying the road, she calls out gaily, "Our way lies down hill,
Moodie, and they tell me that mules are so sure-footed that they never
stumble. Pray buy or borrow that long goad from the young gentleman
in the sheep-skin jacket. By skillful use of it you might mend our pace,
and bring us sooner to Elvas."
We will leave this impatient lady to hasten on to Elvas, whether
expedited or not by the use of the goad, to inquire the occasion of her
journey thither.
For five years the peninsula has been one battlefield, and the present
has been one of unceasing activity to the British troops. Beginning the
year by suddenly crossing the frontier and investing Ciudad Rodrigo,
they had taken it by storm in January, while the French were preparing
to relieve it. Equally unexpectedly crossing the Tagus and the Guadiana,
they had sat down before the strong fortress of Badajoz, and to save a
few precious days, in which Soult and Marmont might have united their
hosts to its rescue, they, in April, took it in a bloody assault, buying
immediate possession at the price of more than a thousand precious
lives. No sooner had the disappointed Marshals withdrawn their armies
to less exhausted regions, than the forts of Almarez were surprised in
May, and the direct route of communication between them cut off. The
British army then invaded Spain on the side of the kingdom of Leon:

the forts of Salamanca fell before them in June, and in July the battle of
Salamanca crushed the French force in that quarter, and opened the
road to Madrid to the British, who, driving thence the intrusive king,
acquired the control of all central Spain. But, at length, in October, the
castle of Burgos defied their utmost efforts, unaided by a siege-train.
The French hosts from north, south and east, abandoning rich provinces
and strong fortresses they had held for years, gathered around them in
overwhelming numbers; and