atherly hands
of Mullins, who came in response to the summons, the young officer was
delivered.

Lord Wellington took up his hat and riding-crop from Sir Terence's desk.
"I shall leave for the frontier at once," he announced. "Sir Robert will
need the encouragement of my presence to keep him within the prudent
bounds I have imposed. And I do not know how long Ciudad Rodrigo may be
able to hold out. At any moment we may have the French upon the
Agueda, and the invasion may begin. As for you, O'Moy, this has changed
everything. The French and the needs of the case have decided. For the
present no change is possible in the administration here in Lisbon. You
hold the threads of your office and the moment is not one in which to
appoint another adjutant to take them over. Such a thing might be fatal
to the success of the British arms. You must withdraw this resignation."
And he proffered the document.

Sir Terence recoiled. He went deathly white.

"I cannot," he stammered. "After what has happened, I--"

Lord Wellington's face became set and stern. His eyes blazed upon the
adjutant.

"O'Moy," he said, and the concentrated anger of his voice was
terrifying, "if you suggest that any considerations but those of this
campaign have the least weight with me in what I now do, you insult
me. I yield to no man in my sense of duty, and I allow no private
considerations to override it. You are saved from going home in disgrace
by the urgency of the circumstances, as I have told you. By that and by
nothing else. Be thankful, then; and in loyally remaining at your post
efface what is past. You know what is doing at Torres Vedras. The works
have been under your direction from the commencement. See that they are
vigorously pushed forward and that the lines are ready to receive the
army in a month's time from now if necessary. I depend upon you--the
army and England's honour depend upon you. I bow to the inevitable and
so shall you." Then his sternness relaxed. "So much as your commanding
officer. Now as your friend," and he held out his hand, "I congratulate
you upon your luck. After this morning's manifestations of it, it should
pass into a proverb. Goodbye, O'Moy. I trust you, remember."

"And I shall not fail you," gulped O'Moy, who, strong man that he was,
found himself almost on the verge of tears. He clutched the extended
hand.

"I shall fix my headquarters for the present at Celorico. Communicate
with me there. And now one o