“Utterly smashed--broken up--no home, and devilish little to live upon,--my mother's jointure being barely sufficient for herself and Helen. I want, therefore, to remind you--your Lordship, that is--to remind your Lordship of the kind pledge which you so lately made us, at a time when we little anticipated the early necessity we should have to recall it. My father, some forty-five or six years back, raised the Darcy Light Horse, equipped, armed, and mounted six hundred men, at his own expense. This regiment, of which he took the head, did good service in the Low Countries, and although distinguished in many actions, he received nothing but thanks,--happily not wanting more, if so much. Times are changed now with him, and it would be a seasonable act of kindness and a suitable reward to an old officer--highly esteemed as he is and has been through life--to make up for past neglect by some appointment--the service has many such--Confound them! the pension-list shows what fellows there are--'governors and deputy-governors,' 'acting adjutants' of this, and 'deputy assistant commissaries' of that.” “I 'm not to write that, I suppose?” “No, you needn't,--it would do no harm, though, to give them a hint on the subject; but never mind it now. 'As for myself, I 'll leave the Guards, and take service in the Line. I am only anxious for a regiment on a foreign station, and if in India, so much the better.' Is that down? Well--eh! that will do, I think. You may just say, that the matter ought to be arranged without any communication with your father, inasmuch as, from motives of delicacy, he might feel bound to decline what was tendered as an offer, though he would hold himself pledged to accept what was called by the name of duty. Yes, Lionel, that's the way to put the case; active service, by all means active service,--no guard-mounting at Windsor or Carlton House; no Hounslow Heath engagements.” Lionel followed, as well as he was able, the suggestions, to which sundry short interjections and broken “hems!” and “ha's!” gave no small confusion, and at last finished a letter, which, if it conveyed some part of the intention, was even a stronger exponent of the character, of him who dictated it. “Shall I read it over to you?” “Heaven forbid! If you did, I 'd alter every word of it. I never reconsidered a note that I did not change my mind about it, and I don't believe I ever counted a sum of money over more than once without making the tot vary each time. Send it off as it is--' Yours truly, Lionel Darcy.'” It was about ten days after the events we have just related that Bagenal Daly sat in consultation with Darcy's lawyer in the back parlor of the Knight's Dublin residence. Lionel, who had been in conclave with them for several hours, had just left the room, and they now remained in thoughtful silence, pondering over their late discussion.