[Footnote 2: We need hardly point out to the reader, that though the name Has been changed, the character of a well-known individual is not here overdrawn.]

"Delightful creature!" exclaimed Miss Falkland, with her beautiful eyes sparkling like diamonds; "but tell me, Colonel Manners, tell me, what is he like? Mamma, if you have no objection, I will go out and marry him."

"None in the world, my love!" answered Mrs. Falkland; "but, perhaps, it may be better, first, to send over and ask whether he will marry you."

"That he will of course," answered she: "but, Colonel Manners, you have not told me what he is like--in person I mean."

"Oh, he is fresh and hale as a life of exercise and a heart at rest can make him," replied Manners. "Indeed, he is as handsome a man as ever I saw."

"Oh, that will do exactly!" cried Miss Falkland, laughing. Colonel Manners smiled too; but there was a tinge of melancholy in his smile; for, however much he might have made up his mind to the fact, that personal beauty is an indispensable requisite to obtain woman's love, yet every little trait which served to confirm that opinion touched a gloomy chord in his bosom, which again called forth the tone of many a harmonizing feeling, and made somewhat sad music within.

"And pray, Colonel Manners," said Lord Dewry, with the cold, if not supercilious tone which he generally employed, "what may be the name of the wonderful person who does all these wonderful things?"

"The name, my lord," replied Colonel Manners coolly, "the name of the gentleman who went two hundred miles into the Indian country to save your son, Captain de Vaux from the tomahawk, without ever having seen him, is one known throughout the greater part of America,--Sir William Ryder."

Lord Dewry turned suddenly still paler than he was before; and then as red as fire. Whether it was that some feelings had been excited by that name with which he did not choose to trust his lips, or whether his emotion proceeded from temporary illness, did not appear; but he replied nothing; and Colonel Manners, by whom the peer's agitation had not been totally unmarked, went on. "If I remember right," he said, "I heard Sir William Ryder ask after your lordship's health from De Vaux, and say that he had known you many years ago in England."

"I once knew, sir," replied Lord Dewry, drawing himself up, "I once knew an unworthy blackguard of that name, who is now I believe, in America; but he has no right to claim acquaintance with me."

De Vaux looked at his father with astonishment, and then turned his eyes towards Manners, as if to pray him patience; but his friend was perfectly calm, and replied:--"Your lordship must allude to some different person, as the description does not at all correspond with him of whom I speak."

"No, no, sir," answered the baron, reddening, "I speak of the same person,--there can be no doubt of it,--a gambling beggar!"

"If you do speak of the same person, Lord Dewry," replied Colonel Manners, quite calmly, "I must beg of you to remember, that you speak of my friend; and in the presence of one who does not like to hear his friend's character a.s.sailed."

"Indeed, sir, indeed!" exclaimed Lord Dewry, rising; "do you kindly wish to dictate to me, in my sister's house, what I am to say of a person, who it seems, has formed an unfortunate intimacy with my own son; and is, as I said, a gambling beggar?"

Manners paused a moment. He and De Vaux were alike under deep obligations to the man of whom Lord Dewry spoke; and he felt that the language used by the peer was not only a gross personal insult to both of them, but especially to himself, who had been the means of introducing him to his companion, and who had the moment before bestowed such high and unqualified praise on the very person whom he now heard reviled. He remembered Lord Dewry's age and situation, however, and his own particular position, and endeavoured to moderate his reply as much as possible; though to pa.s.s the matter over in silence, or to leave the charges of the peer without direct contradiction, he felt to be impossible, as an officer, a man of honour, or the friend of Sir William Ryder.

"Your personal opinion, my lord," he answered, "you may, of course, express to your own son, or your own family whenever you like, provided it be not injurious to any friend of mine. In which last case I shall, as before, beg your lordship to refrain in my presence, for I am not a man to hear a friend calumniated in silence."

"Calumniated, sir! calumniated!" exclaimed Lord Dewry.

"Yes, sir, such was the word I made use of," replied Colonel Manners, "because the expressions you applied to Sir William Ryder were calumnious, if applied to my friend, whom a long life of n.o.ble actions raises above suspicion; but I trust and believe we are speaking of different persons."

"'Tis well, sir; 'tis very well!" replied Lord Dewry, appearing to grow somewhat cooler; "'tis extremely well!--I trust it is as you say.

Give me a gla.s.s of soda-water. Maria, I shall now retire to rest; I am somewhat fatigued: my apartments are, I think, opposite the drawing-room. Good-night!--Colonel Manners, I wish you good-night!"

And, bowing with low and bitter courtesy, he left the room.

Colonel Manners, whatever might be his feelings, and whatever might be his intentions, took no notice of what had pa.s.sed after Lord Dewry left the room, although he could not but feel that he had been insulted by a man whose age protected him; but both Mrs. Falkland and De Vaux spoke upon the subject, after a moment's painful pause. The first apologized with dignified mildness for the occurrence, and a.s.suring her visiter that something strange and extraordinary must have irritated her brother during the course of the day, or that he would not so far have forgot his usual _bienseance_; and the latter pressed his friend with kindly earnestness to forget what had occurred, and not to suffer it to affect his conduct, or abridge his stay.

Colonel Manners smiled, and suffered himself to be overcome: "You know, De Vaux, that I am not one to be driven from my position by the first fire," he said; "and as I suppose that Lord Dewry and myself will not meet very frequently after the present time, we shall have but few opportunities of being as agreeable to each other as we have been to-night."

Thus ended the conversation, and soon after the party separated, each grieving not a little that the harmony of the evening had been so unfortunately interrupted, when there was no reason to expect such an event.

CHAPTER IV.

The mind of man is a curious thing, in some respects not at all unlike an old Gothic castle, full of turnings and windings, long dark pa.s.sages, spiral staircases, and secret corners. Among all these architectural involutions, too, the ideas go wandering about, generally very much at random, often get astray, often go into a wrong room and fancy it their own; and often, too, it happens that, when one of them is tripping along quite quietly, thinking that all is right, open flies a door; out comes another, and turns the first back again--sometimes rudely, blowing her candle out, and leaving her in the dark,--and sometimes taking her delicately by the tips of the fingers, and leading her to the very spot whence she set out at first.

Colonel Manners, retiring to his bedchamber, though he seldom, if ever, indulged in reveries of happiness which were never to be realized, could not help sitting down to think over the events of the evening, and the circle to which he had been introduced.

In the first place, he took great care to turn the idea of Lord Dewry and his rudeness out of the castle, being a great economizer of pleasant thoughts; and then, with somewhat of a sigh (the sort of semi-singultus which people give to something irremediable in their own fate, while contemplating the state of another), he thought, "De Vaux is a very happy man! and yet," he continued, "though she is very beautiful, too, and evidently has deeper feelings beneath that calm exterior, yet, had I had to choose between the two cousins, I would have fixed upon the other." As he thus went on thinking, Colonel Manners began to remember that his thoughts might be treading upon dangerous ground: he did not know even that they might not be drawn into an ambuscade of dreams and wishes which he had long, as he fancied, defeated for ever; and, therefore, he hastily beat the general, and marched the whole detachment off to join his own regiment. What we mean is, that he turned his mind to military affairs, and would very fain have thought no more either of Mrs.

Falkland's domestic circle, or of the future happiness of his friend; or, at least, he would have schooled himself, if he did think of such things at all, not to extract any personal feelings therefrom, but to let them be to him as matters in which he had no further share than as in a pa.s.sing pageant of a pretty device, through which he was to move as he would have done through a minuet, forgetting it all as soon as the music ceased. Still, however, as he went on thinking, open flew some of the doors of a.s.sociation, and ever and anon out started some fresh idea, which brought him back to the happiness of his friend, and the delight of seeing a family circle of one's own, and looks of affection, and a joyful welcome after toil, and exertion, and danger were over.

As sleep, however, is a strong fortress against the attack of dangerous thoughts, he resolved to take refuge there from a force that was too powerful for him; and, going to bed, he was soon within the gates of slumber. But fancy turned traitor within his fortress, and, ere long, whole troops of dreams poured in, laying his heart prostrate before imaginations which he had repelled with veteran courage for more than fourteen years. There was, of course, no resisting under such circ.u.mstances: the garrison threw down their arms, and he went on dreaming of love and domestic happiness all night. It did him no harm, however, for one of the most curious phenomena which take place in regard to those wild visitants, dreams, occurred in this case. The visions that had come to him had all been as vivid as reality: he had felt more and more acutely than he had, perhaps, ever felt in life; there had been pleasures and pains, intense and varying; events and feelings which, had they occurred in waking existence, he would have remembered till the last hour of his life; and yet, when he awoke, he had forgotten the whole. It was as if some after-sleep, with a sponge dipped in Lethe, had pa.s.sed by, and wiped out from the tablet of memory all but a few rough scratches, sufficient to show the dreams had been there.

The day was yet young when he awoke; but Manners was habitually an early riser--a habit that generally springs from two causes--vigorous health, a frame without languor, and easily refreshed; or from a refined heart, at ease within itself. When he had prayed--for all n.o.ble-minded beings pray; and the only truly great pride is the pride with which one owns one's self the servant of G.o.d: it is the soldier pointing to the colours under which he serves--when he had prayed, he dressed himself, somewhat slowly, gazing from time to time out of the window over the rich landscape sparkling with dew and morning; and then, opening his door, went out with the purpose of breathing the fresh air of the early day. The windows at either end of the corridor were still closed, for it had scarcely struck six, but the skylight over the staircase gave light enough; and Colonel Manners, descending, found a housemaid, with unbought roses on her cheeks, and blue arms, busily washing the marble hall and the steps that went out into the garden, which, stretching away to the south-west, was separated from the park in which the house stood, by a haw-haw and a light fence.

Give me a flower-garden, in the early morning, with its dry gravel-walks shining in the fresh sunbeams, and all the thousands of flowers which man's care and G.o.d's bounty have raised to beautify our dwellings, expanding their refreshed petals to the young light. The garden into which Colonel Manners now went forth was an old-fashioned one, with manifold beds, arranged in as many mathematical figures.

Each bed, fringed with its close-cut green border of box, was full of as many flowers as it would hold, and as the season afforded; and though of late many a foreign land has been ransacked to procure new exotics for our grounds, yet even then the garden was not without its rich a.s.sortment of flowering shrubs; some still bearing the blossom, some fallen into the fruit. Between the beds--and, as the gardens were of very great extent, the beds were not very close together--were s.p.a.ces of soft green turf, sometimes flanked with holly, or hedged with yew, so as to make a sort of little bowling-green; sometimes wide open to the gay sunshine, and full of innumerable thrushes and blackbirds, hopping along, with their fine shanks sunk amid the blades of gra.s.s. Here and there, too, was an arbour covered with clematis; and hothouses and green-houses now and then peeped out from behind the shrubberies, on the sunny side of the garden.

Colonel Manners took his way along a walk that flanked the enclosure to the east, and which, running by the side of the haw-haw, a little elevated above the park and surrounding country, gave, on the one side, an extensive prospect over a rich and smiling landscape, with the deer bounding over the gra.s.s, and the cattle lowing along the distant upland; and, on the other, showed the garden--somewhat formal, perhaps, but neat, and beautiful, and sparkling. He was a soldier, and a man of the world, and he loved books, and he did not dislike society; but, perhaps, there never was a man upon earth who more thoroughly enjoyed a solitary morning walk amid flowers and beautiful scenery--scenery in which one can pause and fill one's eye with fair sights, while the ideas springing from each particular blossom, or from the whole general view, can ramble out into a world of indistinct loveliness, wherein one can scarcely be said to think, but rather to live in a sensation of happiness which approaches near to heaven.

Although, as we have observed, one can scarcely be said to think, yet there is no situation on the earth--or very few--in which a man so little likes to have his thoughts interrupted, and his fine imaginations forcibly called back to the dull ground. Colonel Manners, therefore, was not very well pleased, when, after following the walk which he had chosen to the end, he heard footsteps beyond the bushes, round which the path now swept.

Had these footsteps, indeed, possessed that light peculiar sound which is produced by a small and pretty foot, Colonel Manners, who never objected to see the beautiful things of nature enhanced by the presence of the most beautiful, might not have thought his reveries unworthily disturbed. In the present instance, however, the sound was very different: it was the dull, heavy, determined step of a foot that takes a firm hold of the ground; and, as he went on, he was not surprised to meet with Lord Dewry at the turning of the walk.

Colonel Manners, if he had not forgot all about their discussion of the preceding evening, had remembered it as little as possible; and, being one of those happy men who never suffer any annoyance of such a nature to rankle at the heart, he had settled the matter in his own mind by thinking that the old gentleman had the toothache, or some of those corporal pangs and infirmities which cause and excuse ill-temper, and sometimes even rudeness, at that period of life when the pa.s.sing away of those mighty blessings, vigour and health, is in itself matter enough for irritation. As, however, he never liked to subject himself to occasions for commanding his temper, he proposed, in the present instance, merely to give the peer "Good-morning," and pa.s.s on upon his walk.

This purpose he was not permitted to execute; as no sooner did Lord Dewry come opposite to him, than he stopped abruptly, and answered Colonel Manners's salutation by a cold and haughty bow. "Colonel Manners," he said, "I saw you come into the garden from the windows of my room, and I have done myself the honour of seeking you."

The peer spoke slowly and calmly; but Manners, who doubted not that his intention was to apologize, was both somewhat surprised that so proud a man should do so at all, and likewise somewhat puzzled by a sneering curl of the nostril and a slight twinkling of the eyelid, which seemed to betray a spirit not quite so tranquil as his tone would have indicated. "Your lordship does me honour," he replied; "what are your commands?"

"Simply as follows, Colonel Manners," replied Lord Dewry: "I think you last night made use of the term _calumny_, as applied to part of my discourse; and as I am not in the habit of being insulted without taking measures to redress myself, I have followed you hither for the purpose of arranging the necessary result."

Colonel Manners felt inclined to smile, but he refrained, and replied, seriously, "My lord, I wish to heaven you would forget this business.

You thought fit to apply the strongest terms of injury to a gentleman for whom I had expressed my friendship and grat.i.tude; and I p.r.o.nounced such terms to be calumnious in regard to my friend, but expressed, at the same time, my belief that we were speaking of different persons.

For Heaven's sake, let the matter rest where it does: I meant no personal insult to you; I trust you meant none to me. I came down here the friend of your son, on a joyful occasion, and it would pain me not a little to go away the enemy of his father."

The lip of Lord Dewry curled with a bitter and galling sneer. "Colonel Manners," he said, "I believe that you wear a sword."

"I do, sir," replied Manners, reddening; "but I should be unworthy to wear one, did I draw it against a man old enough to be my father."

Lord Dewry, too, reddened. "If, as I perceive, sir," he said, "you intend to make my age your protection, I trust you have calculated the consequences to your reputation, and will understand the light in which I view you. When I am willing, sir, to waive all respect of age, I do not see what you have to do with it."

"Much, my lord," answered Colonel Manners; "much have my own conscience and my own honour to do with it."

"Do not let an officer who is refusing to fight talk of honour, sir,"

replied Lord Dewry.

"You cannot provoke me to forget myself, Lord Dewry," answered the other; "I hold all duelling in abhorrence, and as any thing but a proof of courage but when the encounter is to be between a young and active man, and one of your lordship's age and probable habits, it is murder outright. Your lordship will excuse me for saying that I think the business a very foolish one, and that I must insist upon its being dropped."