Forester once more endeavored, in broken, disjointed phrases, to express his acknowledgment, and was in the very midst of a mass of contradictory explanations, hopes, and wishes, when Linwood entered with, “The carriage is ready, my Lord.” The Knight heard the words with surprise, and as quickly remarked that the young man was dressed in deep mourning. “I have been unwittingly addressing you as Captain Forester,” said he, gravely; “I believe I should have said--” “Lord Wallincourt,” answered Forester, with a slight tremor in his voice; “the death of my brother--” Here he hesitated, and at length was silent. The Knight, who read in his nervous manner and sickly appearance the signs of broken health and spirits, resolved at once to sacrifice mere personal feeling in a cause of kindness, and said: “I see, my Lord, you are scarcely as strong as when I had the pleasure to meet you first, and I doubt not that you require a little repose and quietness. Come along with me then; and if even this cabin of ours be inhospitable enough not to afford you a room, we 'll find something near us on the coast, and I have no doubt we 'll set you on your legs again.” “It is a favor I would have asked, if I dared,” said Forester, feebly. He then added: “Indeed, sir, I will confess it, my journey had no other object than to present myself to Lady Eleanor Darcy. Through the kindness of my relative, Lord Castlereagh, I was enabled to send her some tidings of yourself, of which my illness prevented my being the bearer, and I was desirous of adding my own testimony, so far as it could go.” Here again he faltered. “Pray continue,” said the Knight, warmly; “I am never happier than when grateful, and I see that I have reason for the feeling here.” “I perceive, sir, you do not recognize me,” said the young man, thoughtfully, while he fixed his deep, full eyes upon the Knight's countenance. Darcy stared at him in turn, and, passing his hand across his brow, looked again. “There is some mystification here,” said he, quickly, “but I cannot see through it.” “Come, Colonel Darcy,” said Forester, with more animation than before. “I see that you forget me-, but perhaps you remember this.” So saying, he walked over to a table where a number of cloaks and travelling-gear were lying, and taking up a pistol, placed it in Darcy's hand. “This you certainly recognize?” “It is my own!” exclaimed the Knight; “the fellow of it is yonder. I had it with me the day we landed at Aboukir.” “And gave it to me when a French dragoon had his sabre at my throat,” continued Forester. “And is it to your gallantry that I owe my life, my brave boy?” cried the old man, as he threw his arm around him.