I saw his lip quiver as he spoke; and unable to bear more, I wrung his hand warmly, and hurried away.
CHAPTER XLIX. THE HORSE GUARDS
I will not say that my reverse of fortune did not depress me; indeed, the first blow fell heavily; but that once past, a number of opposing motives rallied my courage and nerved my heart. My father, I knew, relied on me in this crisis to support his own strength. I had learned to care less for extravagant habits and expensive tastes, by living among those who accorded them little sympathy and less respect. Besides, if my changed career excluded me from the race of fashion, it opened the brilliant path of a soldier's life before me; and now every hour seemed an age, until I should find myself among the gallant fellows who were winning their laurels in the battlefields of the Peninsula.
According to the duke's appointment of the preceding evening I found myself, at ten o'clock punctually, awaiting my turn to be introduced, in the ante-chamber of the Horse Guards. The room was crowded with officers in full dress. Some old white-haired generals of division had been coming daily for years past to solicit commands, their fitness for which lay only in their own doting imaginations; some, broken by sickness and crippled with wounds, were seeking colonial appointments they never could live to reach; hale and stout men in the prime of life were there also, entreating exchanges which should accommodate their wives and daughters, who preferred Bath or Cheltenham to the banks of the Tagus or the snows of Canada. Among these, however, were many fine soldierlike fellows, whose only request was to be sent where hard knocks were going, careless of the climate and regardless of the cause. Another class were thinly sprinkled around—young officers of the staff, many of them delicate, effeminate-looking figures, herding scrupulously together, and never condescending, by word or look, to acknowledge their brethren about them. In this knot De Vere was conspicuous by the loud tone of his voice and the continued titter of his unmeaning laugh. I have already mentioned the consummate ease with which he could apparently forget all unpleasant recollections, and accost the man whom he should have blushed to meet. Now he exhibited this power in perfection; saluting me across the room with a familiar motion of his hand, he called out—
'Ah, Hinton, you here, too? Sick of Ireland; I knew it would come to that. Looking for something near town?'
A cold negative, and a colder bow, was my only answer.
Nothing abashed by this—indeed, to all seeming, quite indifferent to it» he continued—
'Bad style of thing, Dublin; couldn't stand those con-founded talkers, with their old jokes from circuit. You were horribly bored, too; I saw it.'
'I beg, my lord,' said I, in a tone of seriousness, the best exchange I could assume for the deep annoyance I felt—'I beg that you will not include me in your opinions respecting Ireland; I opine we differ materially in our impressions on that country, and perhaps not without reason too. These latter words I spoke with marked emphasis, and fixing my eyes steadily on him.