“By-the-bye, Austin, have you heard that you have a new neighbour?”
“What!—on the Frampton estate, I suppose; I heard that it had been sold.”
“Yes; I have seen him. He is one of your profession—a lively, amusing sort of Irish major; gentlemanlike, nevertheless. The wife not very high-bred, but very fat, and very good-humoured, and amusing from her downright simpleness of heart. You will call upon them, I presume?”
“Oh, of course,” replied Austin. “What is his name did you say?”
“Major McShane, formerly of the 53rd Regiment, I believe.”
Had a bullet passed through the heart of Austin, he could not have received a more sudden shock, and the start which he made from his saddle attracted the notice of his companion.
“What’s the matter, Austin, you look pale; you are not well.”
“No,” replied Austin, recollecting himself; “I am not; one of those twinges from an old wound in the breast came on. I shall be better directly.”
Austin stopped his horse, and put his hand to his heart. His companion rode up, and remained near him.
“It is worse than usual; I thought it was coming on last night; I fear that I must go home.”