Of course, he wasn’t going to bury himself at Burleigh Singleton much longer; and yet, for all that stout intention of houses and lands, and carriages and horses, in almost any other county or country, it is as true as any thing in this book, that he was a resident still, a lease-holder of Aunt Green’s house, long after the denouement of this story; in many things an altered man, but still identical in one; the unchangeable resolve (though never to be executed) of leaving Burleigh at farthest by next Michaelmas.  Most folks who talk much, do little; and taciturn as the general now is, and has been ever throughout life, it will surprise nobody who has learned from hard experience how silly and harmful a thing is secresy (exceptionables excepted), to find that he grew to be a garrulous old man, gossipping for ever of past, present, future, and, not least, about his deeds at Puttymuddyfudgepoor.

General Tracy is by this time awake again; if ever indeed he slept on that uncomfortable shakedown; and, after Mr. Saunders and the razor-strop, has greeted brightly-beaming Emily with more than usual tenderness.  Her account of the transaction made his very blood boil; especially as her pretty pouting lips were lacerated cruelly inside:  that rude blow on the mouth had almost driven the teeth through them.  How confidingly she told her artless tale; how gently did her fond protector kiss that poor pale cheek; and how sternly did he vow full vengeance on the caitiff!  Not even Emily’s intercession could avail to turn his wrath aside.  He could hardly help flying off at once to do something dreadful; but common courtesy to all the Tamworth family obliged him to defer for an hour all the terrible things he meant to do.  So he began to bolt his breakfast fiercely as a cannibal, and saluted Lady Tamworth and her daughters with such savage looks, that the captain considerately suggested: 

“Here, general,” (handing him a most formidable carving-knife,) “charge that boar’s head, grinning defiance at us on the side-board; it will do you good to hew his brawny neck.  My mother, I am sure, for one, will thank you to do the honours there instead of me.  Isn’t it a comfort now, to know that I broke the handle of my hunting-whip across the fellow’s back, and wore all the whip-cord into skeins.  Come, I say, general, don’t eat us all round; and pray have mercy on that poor, flogged, miserable sinner.”

This banter did him good, especially as he saw Emily smiling; so he relaxed his knit brow, condescended to look less like Giant Blunderbore, soon became marvellous chatty, and ate up two French rolls, an egg, some anchovies, a round of toast, and a mighty slice of brawn; these, washed down with a couple of cups of tea, soothed him into something like complacency.

CHAPTER XIX.

JULIAN’S DEPARTURE.