“Take this—­you are pardoned—­you are free!”

The soldier would have embraced his knees to thank him; but the lieutenant said—­

“No! kneel not to me—­consider me as a brother.  I have merely saved the life of an innocent and deserving man.  But the strange resemblance between us seems to me more than a strange coincidence.  You have doubts regarding your parentage; I know but little of mine.  Nature has written a mystery on our faces which we need to have explained.  When this campaign is over, we shall inquire concerning it.  Farewell for the present; but we must meet again.”

The feelings of the reprieved and unlettered soldier were too strong for his words to utter; he shook the hand of his deliverer and wept.

A few days after this some sharp fighting took place.  The loss of the British was considerable, and they were compelled to continue their retreat, leaving their dead, and many of their wounded, exposed, as they fell behind them.  When they again arrived at a halting-place, Lieutenant Sim sought the regiment to which the soldier who might be termed his second self belonged.  But he was not to be found; and all that he could learn respecting him was, that, three days before, George Prescot had been seen fighting bravely, but that he fell covered with wounds, and in their retreat was left upon the field.

Tears gushed into the eyes of the lieutenant when he heard the tidings.  His singular meeting with the stranger in Devonshire; their mysterious resemblance to each other; his meeting him again in Holland under circumstances yet more singular; his saving his life; and the dubious knowledge which each had respecting their birth and parentage,—­all had sunk deep into his heart, and thoughts of these things chased sleep from his pillow.

It was but a short time after this that the regiment of Lieutenant Sim was ordered to India, and he accompanied it; and it was only a few months after his arrival, when the Governor-General gave an entertainment at his palace, at which all the military officers around were present.  At table, opposite to Lieutenant Sim, sat a man of middle age; and, throughout the evening, his eyes remained fixed upon him, and occasionally seemed filled with tears.  He was a colonel in the Company’s service, and a man who, by the force of merit, had acquired wealth and reputation.

“I crave your pardon, sir,” said he, addressing the lieutenant; “but if I be not too bold, a few words with you in private would confer a favour upon me, and if my conjectures be right, will give us both cause to rejoice.”

“You may command me, sir,” said the youth.

The colonel rose from the table and left the room, and the lieutenant rose also and accompanied him.  They entered an adjoining apartment.  The elder soldier gazed anxiously on the face of the younger, and again addressing him, said—­