“I must say, it was neatly done,” continued Heffernan, still following out his own train of thought; “'Non contigit cuique,' as the Roman says; it is not every man can take in Con Heffernan,--I did not expect Hickman O'Reilly would try it.” He leaned his head on his hand for some minutes, then said aloud, “The best thing for you will be to join your regiment.” “I have left the army,” said Forester, with a flush, half of shame, half of anger. “I think you were right,” replied Heffernan, calmly, while he avoided noticing the confusion in the young man's manner. “Soldiering is no career for any man of abilities like yours; the lounging life of a barrack-yard, the mock duties of parade, the tiresome dissipations of the mess, suit small capacities and minds of mere routine. But you have better stuff in you, and, with your connections and family interest, there are higher prizes to strive for in the wheel of fortune.” “You mistake me,” said Forester, hastily; “it was with no disparaging opinion of the service I left it. My reasons had nothing in common with such an estimate of the army.” “There's diplomacy, for instance,” said Heffernan, not minding the youth's remark; “your brother has influence with the Foreign Office.” “I have no fancy for the career.” “Well, there are Government situations in abundance. A man must do something in our work-a-day world, if only to be companionable to those who do. Idleness begets ennui and falling in love; and although the first only wearies for the time, the latter lays its impress on all a man's after-life, fills him with false notions of happiness, instils wrong motives for exertion, and limits the exercise of capacity to the small and valueless accomplishments that find favor beside the work-table and the piano.” Forester received somewhat haughtily the unasked counsels of Mr. Heffernan respecting his future mode of life, nor was it improbable that he might himself have conveyed his opinion thereupon in words, had not the appearance of the waiter to prepare the table for dinner interposed a barrier. “At what hour shall I order the horses, sir?” asked the man of Heffernan. “Shall we say eight o'clock, or is that too early?” “Not a minute too early for me,” said Forester; “I am longing to leave this place, where I hope never again to set foot.” “At eight, then, let them be at the door; and whenever your cook is ready, we dine.” CHAPTER VI. AN UNLOOKED-FOR PROMOTION The same post that brought the Knight the tidings of his lost suit conveyed the intelligence of his son's departure for India; and although the latter event was one over which, if in his power, he would have exercised no control, yet was it by far the more saddening of the two announcements.