ement
was repeated by the porter. The steps were hurried down; the footman stood
door in hand; and I led her forward, mute and trembling. Did she know me? I
assisted her as she stepped in; her hand touched mine: it was the work of a
second; to me it was the bliss of years. She leaned a little forward; and
as the servant put up the steps, said in her soft, sweet tone, "Thank you,
sir. Good-night."

I felt my shoulder touched by some one who, it appeared, was standing close
to me for some seconds; but so occupied was I in gazing at her that I paid
no attention to the circumstance. The carriage drove away and disappeared
in the thick darkness of a starless night. I turned to re-enter the house,
and as I did so, the night lamp of the hall fell upon the features of
the man beside me, and showed me the pale and corpse-like face of Fred
Hammersley. His eye was bent upon me with an expression of fierce and fiery
passion, in which the sadness of long-suffering also mingled. His bloodless
lips parted, moved as though speaking, while yet no sound issued; and his
nostril, dilating and contracting by turns, seemed to denote some deep and
hidden emotion that worked within him.

"Hammersley," said I, holding out my hand towards him,--"Hammersley, do not
always mistake me?"

He shook his head mournfully as it fell forward upon his breast, and
covering his arm, moved slowly away without speaking.

General Picton's voice as he descended the stairs, accompanied by Generals
Vandeleur and Vivian, aroused me at once, and I hurried towards him.

"Now, sir, to horse. The troops will defile by the Namur gate, and meet me
there in an hour. Meanwhile tell Colonel Cameron that he must march with
the light companies of his own and the Ninety-second at once."

"I say, Picton, they'll say we were taken by surprise in England; won't
they?" said a sharp, strong voice, in a half-laughing tone from behind.

"No, your Grace," said Sir Thomas, bowing slightly; "they'll scarcely do so
when they hear the time we took to get under arms."

I heard no more; but throwing myself into the saddle of my troop horse,
once more rode back to the Belle Vue to make ready for the road.

The thin pale crescent of a new moon, across which masses of dark and inky
clouds were hurrying, tipped with its faint and sickly light the tall
minarets of the Hotel de Ville, as I rode into the Grande Place. Although
midnight, the streets were as crowded as at noonday; horse, foo