Oh! Charles, Charles, my poor fellow, "who have cast your all upon a die, and must abide the issue of the throw," I most fervently hope that gossiping Captain Forbes spoke falsely: it is a comfort to reflect that the world is often very liberal in attributing the honours of paternity to some who really do not deserve them. And if a rich old bachelor looks kindly on a foundling, is it not pure malice on that sole account of charity to hail him father? Besides—there's Nurse Mackie.—Speed to Madras, poor youth, and keep your courage up.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GENERAL'S RETURN.
In a most unwonted flow of animal spirits, and an entire affability which restored him at once to the rank of a communicative creature, General Tracy came back on Friday night. He had met with marvellous prosperity; for Hancock's had been paying off the prize-money; and his own lion's share, as general, in the easy process of dethroning half a dozen diamond-hilted rajahs and nabobs, amounted to something like four lacs of rupees, nearly half a crore! Such a flush of wealth, and he was rich already without it, exhilarated the bilious old gentleman so strangely, that positive peonies were blooming in his cheeks; and, as if this was not miracle enough, he had brought his wife as a present Maurice's 'Antiquities of India,' gloriously bound, and had even been so superfluous as to purchase a new pair of double-barrelled pistols for Julian: the lad was a fine young fellow after all, and ought to be encouraged in snuffing out a candle; as for Emily's petit cadeau, it was a fifty guinea set of cameos, the choicest in their way that Howell and James's had to show him. Moreover, he had sent a Bow-street officer to Oxford, to make inquiries after Charles: actually, good fortune had made him at once humanized and happy.
So the chaise rattled up, and the general bounded out, and flew into the arms of his wondering wife, as Paris might have flown to Helen, or Leander to his heroine—the only feminine Hero, whom grammar recognises. It was past eleven at night: therefore he did not think to ask for Julian; no doubt the boy was gone to bed.
Indeed, he had; and was tossing his wealed body, full of pains, and aches, and bruises, as softly as he could upon the feather-bed: he had need of poultices all over, and a quart of Friar's Balsam would have done him little good: after his well-merited thrashing, the flogged hound had slunk to his kennel, and locked himself sullenly in, without even speaking to his mother. Tobacco-fumes exuded from the key-hole, and I doubt not other creature-comforts lent the muddled man their aid.
However, after the first rush of news to Mrs. Tracy, her lord, who had every moment been expecting the door to fly open, and Emily to fall into his arms—for strangely did they love each other—suddenly asked,
"But, where's Emmy all this time! she knows I'm here?—not got to bed, is she?—knew I was coming?—"
"Oh! general, I'll tell you all about it to-morrow morning."