alseness--and
Laura's sweet serene face looked after her departing. Mrs. Booth's was
a very grand dejeuner. We read in the newspapers a list of the greatest
names there. A Royal Duke and Duchess; a German Highness, a Hindoo
Nabob, etc.; and, amongst the Marquises, Farintosh; and, amongst the
Lords, Highgate; and Lady Clara Newcome, and Miss Newcome, who looked
killing, our acquaintance Captain Crackthorpe informs us, and who was
in perfectly stunning spirits. "His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke
of Farintosh is wild about her," the Captain said, "and our poor young
friend Clive may just go and hang himself. Dine with us at the Gar and
Starter? Jolly party. Oh! I forgot! married man now!" So saying, the
Captain entered the hostelry near which I met him, leaving this present
chronicler to return to his own home.
CHAPTER LI. An Old Friend
I might open the present chapter as a contemporary writer of Romance
is occasionally in the habit of commencing his tales of Chivalry, by
a description of a November afternoon falling leaves, tawny forests,
gathering storms, and other autumnal phenomena; and two horsemen winding
up the romantic road which leads from--from Richmond Bridge to the Star
and Garter. The one rider is youthful, and has a blonde moustache. The
cheek of the other has been browned by foreign suns; it is easy to see
by the manner in which he bestrides his powerful charger that he
has followed the profession of arms. He looks as if he had faced his
country's enemies on many a field of Eastern battle. The cavaliers
alight before the gate of a cottage on Richmond Hill, where a gentleman
receives them with eager welcome. Their steeds are accommodated at a
neighbouring hostelry,--I pause in the midst of the description, for the
reader has made the acquaintance of our two horsemen long since. It is
Clive returned from Malta, from Gibraltar, from Seville, from Cadiz, and
with him our dear old friend the Colonel. His campaigns are over, his
sword is hung up, he leaves Eastern suns and battles to warm younger
blood. Welcome back to England, dear Colonel and kind friend! How
quickly the years have passed since he has been gone! There is a streak
or two more silver in his hair. The wrinkles about his honest eyes
are somewhat deeper, but their look is as steadfast and kind as in the
early, almost boyish days when first we knew them.
We talk a while about the Colonel's voyage home, the pleasures of the
Spanish jou
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