at the other extremity!  What constitutes their right to be there?—­By the way, I met Sir Purcell Barrett (the fellow who was at Hillford), and he would like to write an article on you that should act as a sort of rejoinder.  You won’t mind, of course—­it’s bread to him, poor devil!  I doubt whether I shall see you when you comeback, so write a jolly lot of letters.  Colonel Pierson, of the Austrian army, my uncle (did you meet him at Brookfield?), advises me to sell out immediately.  He is getting me an Imperial commission—­cavalry.  I shall give up the English service.  And if they want my medal, they can have it, and I’ll begin again.  I’m sick of everything except a cigar and a good volume of poems.  Here’s to light one, and now for the other!

     “‘Large eyes lit up by some imperial sin,’” etc. 
     (Ten lines from Tracy’s book are here copied neatly.)

[Tracy Runningbrook to Wilfrid:]

“Why the deuce do you write me such infernal trash about the opinions of a villanous dog who can’t even en a decent sentence?  I’ve been damning you for a white-livered Austrian up and down the house.  Let the fellow bark till he froths at the mouth, and scatters the virus of the beast among his filthy friends.  I am mad-dog proof.  The lines you quote were written in an awful hurry, coming up in the train from Richford one morning.  You have hit upon my worst with commendable sagacity.  If it will put money in Barren’s pocket, let him write.  I should prefer to have nothing said.  The chances are all in favour of his writing like a fool.  If you’re going to be an Austrian, we may have a chance of shooting one another some day, so here’s my hand before you go and sell your soul; and anything I can do in the meantime—­command me.”

[Georgiana Ford to Wilfrid:]

“I do not dare to charge you with a breach of your pledged word.  Let me tell you simply that Emilia has become aware of your project to enter the Austrian service, and it has had the effect on her which I foresaw.  She could bear to hear of your marriage, but this is too much for her, and it breaks my heart to see her.  It is too cruel.  She does not betray any emotion, but I can see that every principle she had gained is gone, and that her bosom holds the shadows of a real despair.  I foresaw it, and sought to guard her against it.  That you, whom she had once called (to me) her lover, should enlist himself as an enemy, of her country!—­it comes to her as a fact striking her brain dumb while she questions it, and the poor body has nothing to do but to ache.  Surely you could have no object in doing this?  I will not suspect it.  Mr. Runningbrook is acquainted with your plans, I believe; but he has no remembrance of having mentioned this one to Emilia.  He distinctly assures me that he has not done so, and I trust him to speak truth.  How can it have happened?  But here is the evil done.  I see no remedy.  I am not skilled in sketching the portraits you desire of her, and yet, if you have ever wished her to know this miserable thing, it would be as well that you should see the different face that has come among us within twenty hours.”