Delmé landed weary; but it was a beneficial weariness. He felt he had taken manly exercise, and that it would do him good. He was walking towards the barrack, with his jacket slung over his shoulder, when he was met by George's servant. "Oh, Sir!" said the man, "I am so glad you are come. The Signora is terribly afraid for my young master. I fear, Sir, he is in one of his fits." Delmé hurried forward, and entered his brother's room. George held a riding whip in his hand. He had thrown off his cravat--his throat was bare--his eyes glanced wildly. "And who are you, Sir?" said he, as Henry entered. "What! not know me, dearest George?" replied his brother, in agony. "I do not understand your insolence, Sir; but if you are a dun, go to my servant. Thompson," continued he, "give me my spurs! I shall ride." "Ride!" said Delmé. Thompson made him a quiet sign. "I am very sorry, Sir," said he, "but the Arab is quite lame, and is not fit for the saddle." "Give me a glass of sangaree then, you rascal! Port--do you hear?" The glass was brought him. He drained its contents at a draught. "Now, kick that scoundrel out of the room, Thompson, and let me sleep." He threw himself listlessly on the sofa. Acmé was weeping bitterly, but he seemed not to notice her. It was late in the day. The surgeon had been sent for. He now arrived, and stated that nothing could be done; but recommended his being watched closely, and the removing all dangerous weapons. He begged Henry, however, to indulge him in all his caprices, in order that he might the better observe the state of his mind. While George slept, Delmé entered another room, and ordering the servant to inform him when he awoke, he sat down to dinner alone and dispirited; for Acmé refused to leave George. It was indeed a sad, and to Sir Henry Delmé an unforeseen shock. In a couple of hours, Thompson came with a message from Acmé. "Master is awake, Sir--knows the Signora--and seems much better. He has desired me to brush his cloak, as he intends going out. Shall I do so, Sir, or not?" "Do so!" said Delmé, "but fail not to inform me when he is about to go; and be yourself in readiness. We will watch him." Chapter XV. The Charnel House. "And when at length the mind shall be all free, From what it hates in this degraded form, Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be Existent happier in the fly or worm; When elements to elements conform, And dust is as it should be." The last grey tinge of twilight, was fast giving place to the sombre hues of night, as a figure, enveloped in a military cloak, issued from the barrack at Floriana. Henry at once recognised George; and only delaying till a short distance had intervened between his brother and himself, Delmé and Thompson followed his footsteps.