“Impossible, surely, colonel, when you had such a fine animal as this,” said Godfrey, caressing Pompey, who lay at his feet. “Where did you get this handsome dog?” The colonel then entered into the history of Pompey the Great. “I was speaking,” said Miss Hauton, “to Mr. Godfrey Percy of his family--relations of yours, Mr. Falconer, are not they? He has another sister, I think, some one told me, a beautiful sister, Caroline, who was not at the ball last night?” “Yes,” said Buckhurst, who looked at this instant also to the dog for assistance--“Pompey!--Pompey!--poor fellow!” “Is Miss Caroline Percy like her mother?” “No.” “Like her father--or her brother?” “Not particularly--Will you honour me with any commands for town?--Colonel, have you any?--I’m just going off with Major Clay,” said Buckhurst. “Not you, indeed,” cried the colonel; “your father has made you over to me, and I won’t give you leave of absence, my good fellow.--You’re under orders for Cheltenham to-morrow, my boy--No reply, sir--no arguing with your commanding officer. You’ve no more to do, but to tell Clay to go without you.” “And now,” continued the colonel, returning to Godfrey Percy, after Buckhurst had left the room, “what hinders you from making one of our party? You can’t do better. There’s Maria and Lady Oldborough were both wishing it at breakfast--Maria, can’t you say something?” Maria’s eyes said more than the colonel could have said, if he had spoken for ever. “But perhaps Mr. Godfrey Percy may have other engagements,” said she, with a timid persuasive tone, which Godfrey found it extremely difficult to resist. “Bellamy! where the d----l do you come from?--Very glad to see you, faith!” cried the colonel, going forward to shake hands with a very handsome man, who had just then entered the room. “Maria,” said Colonel Hauton, turning to his sister, “don’t you know Bellamy?--Bellamy,” repeated he, coming close to her, whilst the gentleman was paying his compliments to Lady Oldborough, “Captain Bellamy, with whom you used to waltz every night, you know, at--what’s the name of the woman’s?” “I never waltzed with him but once--or twice, that I remember,” said Miss Hauton, “and then because you insisted upon it.” “I!--Well, I did very right if I did, because you were keeping all the world waiting, and I knew you intended to do it at last--so I thought you might as well do it at first. But I don’t know what’s the matter with you this morning--we must drive a little spirit into you at Cheltenham.” Captain Bellamy came up to pay his respects, or rather his compliments, to Miss Hauton: there was no respect in his manner, but the confidence of one who had been accustomed to be well received.