Exhausted with pain and violence, the general made no reply; he fell back on the sofa, and, in a short time, he snored most comfortably.  “I have conquered you,” thought I, as I watched him as he lay asleep.  “If I have not yet, I will, that I am resolved.”  I walked gently to the door, unlocked it, and opening it without waking him, ordered some broth to be brought up immediately, saying that the general was asleep, and that I would wait for it outside.  I accomplished this little manoeuvre, and re-closed the door without waking my father, and then I took my seat in the chair, and resumed my book, having placed the broth on the side of the fire-grate to keep it warm.  In about an hour he awoke, and looked around him.

“Do you want anything, my dearest father?” inquired I.

The general appeared undecided as to whether to recommence hostilities, but at last he said, “I wish the attendance of my servants, sir.”

“The attendance of a servant can never be equal to that of your own son, general,” replied I, going to the fire, and taking the basin of broth, which I replaced upon the tray containing the et ceteras on a napkin.  “I expected you would require your broth, and I have had it ready for you.”

“It was what I did require, sir, I must acknowledge,” replied my father, and without further remark he finished the broth.

I removed the tray, and then went for the lotion, and again wetted the bandages on his leg.  “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” said I.

“Nothing—­I am very comfortable.”

“Then, sir,” replied I, “I will now take my leave.  You have desired me to quit your presence for ever; and you attempted force.  I resisted that, because I would not allow you to have the painful remembrance that you had injured one who had strong claims upon you, and had never injured you.  I resented it also, because I wished to prove to you that I was a De Benyon, and had spirit to resist an insult.  But, general, if you imagine that I have come here with a determination of forcing myself upon you, you are much mistaken.  I am too proud, and happily am independent by my own exertions, so as not to require your assistance.  Had you received me kindly, believe me, you would have found a grateful and affectionate heart to have met that kindness.  You would have found a son, whose sole object through life has been to discover a father, after whom he has yearned, who would have been delighted to have administered to his wants, to have yielded to his wishes, to have soothed him in his pain, and to have watched him in his sickness.  Deserted as I have been for so many years, I trust that I have not disgraced you, General De Benyon; and if ever I have done wrong, it has been from a wish to discover you.  I can appeal to Lord Windermear for the truth of that assertion.  Allow me to say, that it is a very severe trial—­an ordeal which few pass through with safety—­to be thrown as I have been upon the world, with no friend,