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personal appearance of his company-in purchasing pompons-or new feathers—or whistles, when he was a voltigeur-in establishing his serjeants' mess on a more respectable footing-in giving his poor comrade a better coffin, or a richer pall :-these had been his foibles; and in indulging them, he had expended the wealth, that might have purchased him on to rank and honours. His eagle glance, his aquiline nose, and noble person, showed what he must have been in youth. His hair was now silvered, but his coat was as glossy as formerlyhis zeal was unabated-his pride in his profession the same-and what he could spare, still went, to adorn the persons of the soldiers he still loved. He remained a captain, although his long standing in the army had brought him in for the last brevet. It is true every one had a word for poor Clifford. "Such a fine fellow! what a shame!" But this did not help him on. At the Horse Guards, too, his services were freely acknowledged. The Military Secretary had always a smile for him at his levee, and an assurance that "he had his eye on

him." The Commander in Chief, too, the last

time he had inspected the regiment, attracted by his Waterloo badge, and Portuguese cross, had stopped as he passed in front of the ranks, and conversed with him most affably, for nearly two minutes and a half; as his colour serjeant with some degree of pride used to tell the story. But yet, somehow or other, although Major Clifford was an universal favourite, they always forgot to reward him. A man of the world, would have deemed the Major's ideas to be rather contracted; and to confess the truth, there were two halcyon periods of his life, to which he was fond of recurring. The one was, when he commanded a light company, attached to General Crauford's light brigade; the other, when he had the temporary command of the regimental depôt, and at his own expense, had dressed out its little band, as it had never been dressed out before.

Do you sneer at the old soldier, courtly reader? There breathes not a man who dare arraign that man's courage ;-there is not one who knows him, who would not cheerfully stake his life as a gage for his stainless honour.

The soup and fish had been removed, when Delmé observed a young officer glide in, with that inexpressible air of fashion, which appears to shun notice, whilst it attracts it. His arm was in a sling, and his attenuated face seemed to bespeak ill health. Sir Henry addressed Colonel Vavasour, and begged to know if the person who had just entered the room was Delancey. He was answered in the affirmative; and he again turned to scrutinise his features. These rivetted attention; and were such as could not be seen once, without being gazed at again. His eyes were dark and large, and rested for minutes on one object, with an almost mournful expression; nor was it until they turned from its contemplation, that the discriminating observer might read in their momentary flash, that their possessor had passions deep and uncontrollable. His dark hair hung in profusion over his forehead, which it almost hid; though from the slight separation of a curl, the form of brow became visible; which was remarkable for its projection, and for its pallid hue, which offered a

strong contrast to the swart and sunburnt face.

"Are you aware of his history?" said the Colonel.

"Not in the slightest," replied Delmé. "I felt curious to see him, on account of the way in which he has been mixed up with George's affair; and think his features extraordinary-very extraordinary ones."

"He is son," said Vavasour, "to the once celebrated Lady Harriet D, who made a marriage so disgracefully low. He is the only child by that union. His parents lived for many years on the continent, in obscurity, and under an assumed name. They are both dead. It is possible Delancey may play a lofty rôle in the world, as he has only a stripling between him and the earldom of which descends in the female line. I am

Dsure he will not be a common character; but I have great fears about him. In the regiment he is considered proud and unsocial; and indeed it was your brother's friendship that appeared to retain him in our circle. He has great talents, and some good qualities; but from his uncommon impetuosity of temper, and his impatience of being thwarted, I should be inclined to predict, that the first check he

receives in life, will either make him a misanthrope,

or a pest to society."

At a later period of his life, Delmé again encountered Delancey; and this prophecy of the Colonel's was vividly recalled.

In the ensuing chapter, we purpose giving Oliver Delancey's history, as a not uninstructive episode; although we are aware that episodes are impatiently tolerated, and it is in nowise allied to the purpose of our story. But before doing so, we must detail a conversation which occurred between Delancey and Delmé, at the table of the mess. The

latter was scanning the features of the former, when their eyes met. A conviction seemed to flash on Delancey, that Delmé was George's brother; for the blood rushed to his cheek-his colour went and came-and as he turned away his head, he made a half involuntary bow. Delmé was struck with his manner, and apparent emotion; and in returning the salute, ventured "to hope he was somewhat recovered."

When Major Clifford left the table, Delancey took his vacant seat.

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