“I thank you very much, but, in fact, my hours are now numbered here. I have just received an order to join my regiment; we have been ordered for service, and Sir George has most kindly permitted my giving up my staff appointment. I could not, however, leave the country without shaking hands with you. I owe you a lesson in horsemanship, and I’m only sorry that we are not to have another day together.”
“Then you are going out to the Peninsula?” said I.
“Why, we hope so; the commander-in-chief, they say, is in great want of cavalry, and we scarcely less in want of something to do. I’m sorry you are not coming with us.”
“Would to Heaven I were!” said I, with an earnestness that almost made my brain start.
“Then, why not?”
“Unfortunately, I am peculiarly situated. 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 to him: so that, between his fears and mine, the matter is never broached by either party, nor do I think ever can be.”
“Devilish hard—but I believe you are right; something, however, may turn up yet to alter his mind, and if so, and if you do take to dragooning, don’t forget George Hammersley will be always most delighted to meet you; and so good-by, O’Malley, good-by.”
He turned his horse’s head and was already some paces off, when he returned to my side, and in a lower tone of voice said,—
“I ought to mention to you that there has been much discussion on your affair at Blake’s table, and only one opinion on the matter among all parties,—that you acted perfectly right. Sir George Dashwood,—no mean judge of such things,—quite approves of your conduct, and, I believe, wishes you to know as much; and now, once more, good-by.”