"Apropos of fighting," said I. "Your lordship, if I remember, was formerly in the Guards, I think? Why did you leave that regiment?"
"Why, I was afraid of being shot," said Alvanly, very quietly.
"But were you not also afraid of being called a coward?" I asked.
"I was in two engagements, and distinguished myself in each," Alvanly replied.
"How, pray?" said the stiff John Mills, of the Guards, whom, though I believe he had served in Spain with Alvanly, I did not think worth a place in my Memoirs.
"I do not mean to say that I ever volunteered anything," said Alvanly, pulling up the collar of his shirt; "but, at the same time, I never ran away, you know. They did not reward me for my services as I expected. However, I am quite contented to have retired on half-pay. God bless your soul," continued his lordship, addressing himself to me, "you have no idea what it is! Come on, my brave fellows. This is fine fun, my lads. You are obliged to find courage for yourself and your men too! I mentioned to two or three officers at the time of action, that, if it should please God to see me safe out of that, I would give the enemy leave to cut off my head, if I did not sell out of the army or retire on half-pay the moment I arrived in England. The fact is, I have had the same antipathy to the idea of fighting from a child, and I never should have gone into the Guards at all, if I had imagined they would have left London."
"Alvanly, shall I have the pleasure of drinking wine with you?" asked Lord Hertford, from the top of the table.
Alvanly assented of course.
"Madeira?" asked Dick, handing Alvanly the bottle.
"No; champagne, if you please. I can get madeira at home," said Alvanly.