is! Captain Lyttleton, Fourteenth Light Dragoons,
to be major in the Third Dragoon Guards, _vice_ Godwin, killed in action;
Lieutenant O'Malley to be captain, _vice_ Lyttleton, promoted. You see,
boy, I did not forget you; you were to have had the vacant troop in your
own regiment. Now I almost doubt the prudence of bringing your name under
Lord Wellington's notice. He may have recognized you; and if he did so,
why, I rather think--that is, I suspect--I mean, the quieter you keep the
better."

While I poured forth my gratitude as warmly as I was able for the general's
great kindness to me, I expressed my perfect concurrence in his views.

"Believe me, sir," said I, "I should much rather wait any number of years
for my promotion, than incur the risk of a reprimand; the more so, as it is
not the first time I have blundered with his lordship." I here narrated
my former meeting with Sir Arthur, at which Crawfurd's mirth again burst
forth, and he paced the room, holding his sides in an ecstasy of merriment.

"Come, come, lad, we'll hope for the best; we'll give you the chance that
he has not seen your face, and send the list forward as it is. But here
come our fellows."

As he spoke, the door opened, and three officers of his staff entered, to
whom, being severally introduced, we chatted away about the news of the
morning until breakfast.

"I've frequently heard of you from my friend Hammersley," said Captain
Fitzroy, addressing me. "You were intimately acquainted, I believe?"

"Oh, yes! Pray, where is he now? We have not met for a long time."

"The poor fellow's invalided; that sabre-cut upon his head has turned out
a sad affair, and he's gone back to England on a sick leave. Old Dashwood
took him back with him as private secretary, or something of that sort."

"Ah!" said another, "Dashwood has daughters, hasn't he? No bad notion of
his; for Hammersley will be a baronet some of these days, with a rent-roll
of eight or nine thousand per annum."

"Sir George Dashwood," said I, "has but one daughter, and I am quite sure
that in his kindness to Hammersley no intentions of the kind you mention
were mixed up."

"Well, I don't know," said the third, a pale, sickly youth, with handsome
but delicate features. "I was on Dashwood's staff until a few weeks ago,
and certainly I thought there was something going on between Hammersley
and Miss Lucy, who, be it spoken, is a devilish fine girl, though rather
disposed to give hers