“Maurice Darcy, you would say, sir,” said the Knight, advancing with an offered hand. “As surely as I believe you to be my son Lionel's brother officer and friend, Captain Forester.” “Oh, Colonel Darcy! this is, indeed, happiness,” exclaimed the young man, as he grasped the Knight's hand in both of his, and shook it affectionately. “What a strange rencontre,” said the Knight, laughing; “quite the incident of a comedy! One would scarcely look for such meetings twice,--so like in every respect. Our parts are changed, however; it is your turn to be generous, if the generosity trench not too closely on your convenience.” Forester could but stammer out assurances of delight and pleasure, and so on, for his heart was too full to speak calmly or collectedly. “And Lionel, sir, how is he,-when have you heard from him?” said the young man, anxious, by even the most remote path, to speak of the Knight's family. “In excellent health. The boy has had the good fortune to be employed in a healthy station, and, from a letter which I found awaiting me at my army agent's, is as happy as can be. But to recur to our theme: will you forgive my selfishness if I say that you will add indescribably to the favor if you permit me to take these horses at once? I have not seen my family for some time back, and my impatience is too strong to yield to ceremony.” “Of course,--certainly; my carriage is, however, all ready, and at the door. Take it as it is, you 'll travel faster and safer.” “But you yourself,” said Darcy, laughing,--“you were about to move forward when we met.” “It's no matter; I was merely travelling for the sake of change,” said Forester, confusedly. “I could not think of such a thing,” said Darcy. “If our way led together, and you would accept of me as a travelling companion, I should be but too happy; but to take the long-boat, and leave you on the desolate rock, is not to be thought of.” The Knight stopped; and although he made an effort to continue, the words faltered on his lips, and he was silent. At last, and with an exertion that brought a deep blush to his cheek, he said: “I am really ashamed, Captain Forester, to acknowledge a weakness which is as new to me as it is unmanly. The best amends I can make for feeling is to confess it. Since we met that same night, circumstances of fortune have considerably changed with me. I am not, as you then knew me, the owner of a good house and a good estate. Now, I really would wish to have been able to ask you to come and see me; but, in good truth, I cannot tell where or how I should lodge you if you said 'yes.' I believe my wife has a cabin on this northern shore, but, however it may accommodate us, I need not say I could not ask a friend to put up with it. There is my confession; and now that it is told, I am only ashamed that I should hesitate about it.”