“Would to heaven I were!” said I, with an earnestness that almost made my brain start.

“Then why not?”

“Unfortunately, my worthy uncle, who is all to me in this world, would be quite alone if I were to leave him; and, although he has never said so, I know he dreads the possibility of my suggesting such a thing.”

“Devilish hard; but I believe you are right.  Something, however, may turn up yet to alter his mind.  And so good-bye, O’Malley, good-bye.”

During the contest for the seat—­which was frankly fought in pitched battles and scrimmages, and by corruption and perjury—­I managed to save Miss Dashwood’s life.  When polling-time came, Sir George found the feeling against him was so strong, and we were so successful in beating his voters out of the town, in spite of police and soldiers, that he resigned his candidature.

Afterwards I spent some time in Dublin, nominally in preparation for the law, at Trinity College.  But my college career convinced my uncle that my forte did not lie in the classics, and Sir George succeeded in inducing him to yield to my wishes, and interested himself so strongly for me that I obtained a cornetcy in the 14th Light Dragoons a week before the regiment sailed for Portugal.  On the morning of my last day in Dublin I met Miss Dashwood riding in the park.  For some minutes I could scarcely speak.  At last I plucked up courage a little, and said, “Miss Dashwood, I have wished most anxiously, before I parted for ever with those to whom I owe already so much, that I should, at least, speak my gratitude.”

“But when do you think of going?”

“To-morrow.  Captain Power, under whose command I am, has received orders to embark immediately for Portugal.”

I thought—­perhaps it was but a thought—­that her cheek grew somewhat paler as I spoke; but she remained silent.

Fixing my eyes full upon her I spoke.

“Lucy, I feel I must confess it, cost what it may—­I love you.  I know the fruitlessness, the utter despair, that awaits such a sentiment.  My own heart tells me that I am not, cannot be, loved in return.  I ask for nothing; I hope for nothing.  I see that you at least pity me.  Nay, one word more.  Do not, when time and distance have separated us, think that the expressions I now use are prompted by a mere sudden ebullition of boyish feeling; for I swear to you that my love to you is the source and spring of every action in my life, and, when I cease to love you, I shall cease to feel.  And now, farewell; farewell for ever.”

I pressed her hand to my lips, gave one long, last look, turned my horse rapidly away, and, ere a minute, was out of sight.

III.—­I Smell Gunpowder

What a contrast to the dull monotony of our life at sea did the scene present which awaited us on landing at Lisbon!  The whole quay was crowded with hundreds of people, eagerly watching the vessel which bore from her mast the broad ensign of Britain.