His companion gazed down upon the ground with a grim smile, and remained for a moment without answering; he then looked up, gave a short laugh, and replied, "I must not be ungrateful, cousin mine; I thank you for the money with all my heart and soul; but I cannot think that you have run yourself so hard as that either; you must have made mighty great preparations which have not appeared, to spend your snug little patrimony upon a king who did not deserve it, and for whom you did not fight, after all." "I should have fought if I could have come up in time," replied the other, with his brows darkening. "I suppose you do not suspect me of being unwilling to fight, Lennard?" "Oh, no, man! no!" replied his cousin: "it does not run in our blood; we have all fighting drops in our veins; and I know you can fight well enough when it suits your purpose. As for that matter, I might think myself a fool for fighting in behalf of a man who won't fight in his own behalf; but it is his cause, not himself, Harry, I fought for." "Bubbles, bubbles, Lennard," replied the other, "'tis but a mere name!" "And what do we all fight for, from the cradle to the grave?" demanded his cousin--"bubbles, bubbles, Harry. Through England and Ireland, not to say Scotland, there will be to-morrow morning, which I take it is Sunday, full five thousand priests busily engaged in telling their hearers, that love, glory, avarice, and ambition are nothing but--bubbles! So I am but playing the same game as the rest. I wish to Heaven the boat would come round though, for I am beginning to think it is as great a bubble as the rest.--Run down, Wilton, my boy," he said, speaking to the youth that held him by the hand--"run down to that point, and see if you can discover the boat creeping round under the cliffs." The boy instantly darted off without speaking, and the two gentlemen watched him in silence. After a moment, however, the shorter of the two spoke, with his eyes still fixed on the child, and the slight sneer curling his lip--"A fine boy that, Lennard!" he said. "A child of love, of course!" "Doubtless," answered the other; "but you will understand he is not mine.--It is a friend's child that I have promised to do the best for." "He is wondrous like your brother Morton," rejoined his companion: "it needs no marriage certificate to tell us whose son he is." "No; God speed the poor boy!" replied the other gentleman, "he is like his father enough. I must do what I can for him, though Heaven knows what I am to do either for him or myself. It is long ere he can be a soldier, and I am not much accustomed to taking heed of children." "Where is his mother?" demanded the cousin: "whatever be her rank, she is most likely as rich as you are, and certainly better able to take care of him."