SECOND TO NONE. A Military Romance. BY JAMES GRANT, AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD," "THE YELLOW FRIGATE," ETC. ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON: ROUTLEDGE, WARNE, AND ROUTLEDGE, BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL. NEW YORK: 129, GRAND STREET. 1864. CONTENTS OF THE THIRD VOLUME. CHAP. I. WE TAKE THE FIELD AGAIN II. THE TWO PRESENTIMENTS III. BATTLE OF MINDEN IV. PRINCE XAVIER OF SAXONY V. THE BRIDGE OF FREYENTHAL VI. LES VOLONTAIRES DE CLERMONT VII. THE DUC DE BROGLIE VIII. AN OLD FRIEND ARRIVES IX. MONJOY X. THE STORY OF MONJOY XI. A SAD CONCLUSION XII. THE FROZEN FORD XIII. LAST OF THE EMERALD RING XIV. THE WHISPERED ORDER XV. THE DEAD HUSSAR XVI. ARNAUD DE PRICORBIN XVII. THE HEIGHTS OF CORBACH XVIII. A NIGHT ATTACK XIX. IN LONDON AGAIN XX. THE DRAWING-ROOM XXI. COUSIN AURORA XXII. THE LAST SECOND TO NONE. CHAPTER I. WE TAKE THE FIELD AGAIN. While we were in quarters at Paderborn, a mixed detachment (composed of men for various corps) arrived to join the army, and with it came Major Shirley, looking quite the same as when I had seen him last, on the morning we marched from Wadhurst--his uniform new and spotless, his aiguilettes glittering, his wellfitting gloves of the whitest kid, above which he wore pearl rings; his hair curled and perfumed, with his handsome figure, suave and courtly bearing, his sinister and unfathomable smile. He was one of those lucky fellows who have mysterious interest (feminine probably) at head-quarters, and who, whether at home or abroad, are always on the staff, and never with their regiments; thus he had been appointed extra aide-de-camp to Lord George Sackville, and thus we chanced to meet on the day of his arrival at an old windmill which did duty as a staff-office for the British head-quarters. "Did you see my cousin, Miss Gauntlet, before leaving England?" I inquired, though in reality caring little whether he had or not. "Oh yes, frequently--especially when I was last in London; she is the reigning toast at White's and elsewhere." "She was well, I hope?" said I, dryly. "Well, and looking beautiful as ever." "Did she charge you with any message to me?" "None, Sir Basil. Zounds! none, at least, that I can remember," replied the major, colouring. "Is there any word of her being married yet?" I asked, having a natural anxiety to know _who_ might next be proprietor of my paternal acres. "So handsome a girl, and so rich, too, should certainly not lack offers." "Nor does she, 'sdeath--nor does she." replied Shirley, as a shade of vexation mingled with his perpetual smile. "Aha, major," thought I; "an unsuccessful wooer--eh!"--"And so you have no message for me?" "None; but I have just delivered one of more importance than that of a London belle--one for the army." "Indeed!" "Yes; we are to take the field at once, and advance into Hesse." "Against whom?"