There was a tone of bitterness in which these words were uttered that left no doubt upon my mind some _arrière pensée_ remained lurking behind them. My eyes met his; he bit his lip, and coloring deeply, rose from the chair, and walked towards the window. The chance allusion of my man Mike flashed upon me at the moment, and I dared not trust myself to break silence. I now thought I could trace in my friend’s manner less of that gay and careless buoyancy which ever marked him. There was a tone, it seemed, of more grave and sombre character, and even when he jested, the smile his features bore was not his usual frank and happy one, and speedily gave way to an expression I had never before remarked. Our silence which had now lasted for some minutes was becoming embarrassing; that strange consciousness that, to a certain extent, we were reading each other’s thoughts, made us both cautious of breaking it; and when at length, turning abruptly round, he asked, “When I hoped to be up and about again?” I felt my heart relieved from I knew not well what load of doubt and difficulty that oppressed it. We chatted on for some little time longer, the news of Lisbon, and the daily gossip finishing our topics. “Plenty of gayety, Charley, dinners and balls to no end! so get well, my boy, and make the most of it.” “Yes,” I replied, “I’ll do my best; but be assured the first use I’ll make of health will be to join the regiment. I am heartily ashamed of myself for all I have lost already,--though not altogether my fault.” “And will you really join at once?” said Power, with a look of eager anxiety I could not possibly account for. “Of course I will; what have I, what can I have to detain me here?” What reply he was about to make at this moment I know not, but the door opened, and Mike announced Sir George Dashwood. “Gently, my worthy man, not so loud, if you please?” said the mild voice of the general, as he stepped noiselessly across the room, evidently shocked at the indiscreet tone of my follower. “Ah, Power, you here! and our poor friend, how is he?” “Able to answer for himself at last, Sir George,” said I, grasping his proffered hand. “My poor lad! you’ve had a long bout of it; but you’ve saved your arm, and that’s well worth the lost time. Well, I’ve come to bring you good news; there’s been a very sharp cavalry affair, and our fellows have been the conquerors.” “There again, Power,--listen to that! We are losing everything!” “Not so, not so, my boy,” said Sir George, smiling blandly, but archly. “There are conquests to be won here, as well as there; and in your present state, I rather think you better fitted for such as these.” Power’s brow grew clouded; he essayed a smile, but it failed, and he rose and hurried towards the window. As for me, my confusion must have led to a very erroneous impression of my real feelings, and I perceived Sir George anxious to turn the channel of the conversation.