Something about the stately general of infantry, drew me irresistibly toward him. His bearing was lofty, and not without a species of hauteur; but under all was an exquisite high-breeding and courtesy, which made his society quite charming. At some words of mine, however, in reference to my visit on this day to his son, a decided expression of gloom had obscured the smiles of the old soldier. “Yes, colonel,” he said, with something like a sigh, “Willie has lost his good spirits, and has been much depressed for more than a year. You are his friend--you share his confidence--you doubtless know the origin of this depression.” “I do, general; a very common cause of trouble to young men--a young lady.” “A young lady,” repeated General Davenant, in the same gloomy tone. “He has committed the imprudence of falling in love, as the phrase is, with--Miss Conway.” He paused before the words “Miss Conway,” and uttered them with evident repugnance. They issued from his lips, indeed, with a species of jerk; and he seemed glad to get rid of them, if I may so express myself. “I can talk of this affair with you, colonel,” he added, gloomily, “for Will has told me of your regard for him.” I bowed, and said:-- “You are not wrong in supposing that I am one of your son’s best friends, general. I was long in the cavalry with him--there is no more heroic soldier in the army--and it has given me sincere sorrow to see him laboring under such melancholy.” General Davenant, with his hand covering his brow, listened in silence. “I have not inquired the origin of this depression,” I added--“that would have been indiscreet--though I know Will would tell me. I guessed it, however, and I have visited the young lady at her house to-night. I will certainly use my utmost exertions to remove all obstacles.” General Davenant suddenly rose erect. His eye was flashing. “I beg you will not, colonel!” he exclaimed. “The barrier between himself and--Miss Conway--can never be removed.” I looked at the speaker’s flushed face with positive wonder, and replied:-- “You astonish me, general! Are there any such obstacles in life?” “There are!” I made no reply. “There are, colonel,” repeated the now fiery old soldier. “Judge Conway has been guilty of a gross wrong to me. No son of mine shall ever form an alliance with his family!” I looked up with deep astonishment. “This is a very great surprise to me, my dear general,” I said; “I thought, from many things, that it was Judge Conway who opposed this alliance; and from the belief that _you_ had done _him_ some great wrong.” General Davenant had taken his seat again, after his outburst. Once more his forehead was covered with his hand. For some moments he preserved a silence so profound, that nothing disturbed the night but the long breathing of the sleeping boy, and the measured tramp of the sentinel. Then, all at once, the general raised his head. His expression was no longer fiery--it was unutterably sad.