Robert De Lancaster, who had kept his eyes fixed upon Wilson, whilst thus descanting in a higher tone and with a vehemence, that till this moment he never had given way to, now perceiving that he had brought his speech to a conclusion, rose from his seat, and, taking him by the hand, with great emotion said--Edward, I now with gratitude acknowledge, that Heaven in you hath raised me up a friend to be the comforter of my old age, and the upholder of my family in the person of my grandson, whose mind you have enlightened by your precepts, and whose life you are resolute to guard by your fortitude and friendship. When you had said of my unhappy son--_He is De Lancaster and must be saved_, you had said all. John must obey his duty; he must go, and I resign him to you. Here he paused, for Colonel Wilson, entering the room, presented to him his son Henry, now promoted to a majority of dragoons and under orders to join his regiment. A finer person, and of more martial bearing, could not greet the eyes of man or woman. His address to the De Lancaster of ancient days was noble and respectful in the extreme: his brother he dismissed with that kind of soldierly embrace, which is warmly bestowed, but quickly dispatched. To John he turned, and measuring him with his eye from heel to head, as if he had been surveying a recruit, he exclaimed--May I believe my eyes? can this be John De Lancaster, whom I have the honour to address? “Now in the name of all the gods at once, “Upon what food hath this our Cæsar fed, “That he is grown thus great?” Here’s a De Lancaster, that shows fair promise to be a man indeed. Sir, I entreat you; give me your hand, and give me, what I have an hereditary right to ask, your friendship with it! There it is, said John: I give it cordially with both my hands, and hope to have your friendship in return. This salutation being over, Henry Wilson addressed himself again to the grandfather, and said--I felicitate you, honoured sir, upon this noble scyon to your ancient stock. Look, if he does not over-top us all! Edward and I are hardly fit to stand in the same file with him: we are but summer soldiers: He may let the tempest blow, and bid defiance to it. I hope so, old De Lancaster replied, for he may chance to hear the tempest blow where he is going. John and your brother Edward are for Lisbon. For Lisbon! cried the major; that is lucky: for Lisbon is my very destination. If they are bound thither, and will let me join them, I warrant I’ll keep pace upon the march to the sea side, and when we land at Lisbon, I’ll engage that they shall find a welcome from some as worthy and as gallant fellows, as ever yet drew breath.