ever serving his Majesty again.  Such was the event upon which my poor friend’s fortune in life seemed to hinge—­he returned to Ireland, if not entirely broken-hearted, so altered that his best friends scarcely knew him; his “occupation was gone;” the mess had been his home; his brother officers were to him in place of relatives, and he had lost all.  His after life was spent in rambling from one watering place to another, more with the air of one who seeks to consume than enjoy his time; and with such a change in appearance as the alteration in his fortune had effected, he now stood before me, but altogether so different a man, that but for the well-known tones of a voice that had often convulsed me with laughter, I should scarcely have recognised him.

“Lorrequer, my old friend, I never thought of seeing you here—­this is indeed a piece of good luck.”

“Why, Tom?  You surely knew that the __ were in Ireland, didn’t you?”

“To be sure.  I dined with them only a few days ago, but they told me you were off to Paris, to marry something superlatively beautiful, and most enormously rich, the daughter of a duke, if I remember right; but certes, they said your fortune was made, and I need not tell you, there was not a man among them better pleased that I was to hear it.”

“Oh! they said so, did they?  Droll dogs—­always quizzing—­I wonder you did not perceive the hoax—­eh—­very good, was it not?” This I poured out in short broken sentences, blushing like scarlet, and fidgeting like a school girl with downright nervousness.

“A hoax! devilish well done too,”—­said Tom, “for old Carden believed the whole story, and told me that he had obtained a six months’ leave for you to make your ‘com.’ and, moreover, said that he had got a letter from the nobleman, Lord _____ confound his name.”

“Lord Grey, is it?” said I, with a sly look at Tom.

“No, my dear friend,” said he drily, “it was not Lord Grey—­but to continue—­he had got a letter from him, dated from Paris, stating his surprise that you had never joined them there, according to promise, and that they knew your cousin Guy, and a great deal of other matter I can’t remember—­so what does all this mean?  Did you hoax the noble Lord as well as the Horse Guards, Harry?”

This was indeed a piece of news for me; I stammered out some ridiculous explanation, and promised a fuller detail.  Could it be that I had done the Callonbys injustice, and that they never intended to break off my attention to Lady Jane—­that she was still faithful, and that of all concerned I alone had been to blame.  Oh! how I hoped this might be the case; heavily as my conscience might accuse, I longed ardently to forgive and deal mercifully with myself.  Tom continued to talk about indifferent matters, as these thoughts flitted through my mind; perceiving at last that I did not attend, he stopped suddenly and said—­