oman for the inveterate love of sentiment and propensity to
match-making which belonged to her (and every other woman in the world
whose heart is worth a fig); and as a hint that Madam Lambert was a
goose if she fancied the two Virginian lads were going to fall in love
with the young women of the Lambert house. Little Het might have her
fancy; little girls will; but they get it over: "and you know, Molly"
(which dear, soft-hearted Mrs. Lambert could not deny), "you fancied
somebody else before you fancied me," says the General; but Harry had
evidently not been smitten by Hetty; and now he was superseded, as it
were, by having an elder brother over him, and could not even call the
coat upon his back his own, Master Harry was no great catch.

"Oh yes: now he is poor we will show him the door, as all the rest of
the world does, I suppose," says Mrs. Lambert.

"That is what I always do, isn't it, Molly? turn my back on my friends
in distress?" asks the General.

"No, my dear! I am a goose, now, and that I own, Martin!" says the wife,
having recourse to the usual pocket-handkerchief.

"Let the poor boy come to us and welcome: ours is almost the only house
in this selfish place where so much can be said for him. He is unhappy,
and to be with us puts him at ease; in God's name let him be with us!"
says the kind-hearted officer. Accordingly, whenever poor crestfallen
Hal wanted a dinner, or an evening's entertainment, Mr. Lambert's table
had a corner for him. So was George welcome, too. He went among the
Lamberts, not at first with the cordiality which Harry felt for these
people, and inspired among them: for George was colder in his manner,
and more mistrustful of himself and others than his twin-brother: but
there was a goodness and friendliness about the family which touched
almost all people who came into frequent contact with them; and George
soon learned to love them for their own sake, as well as for their
constant regard and kindness to his brother. He could not but see
and own how sad Harry was, and pity his brother's depression. In his
sarcastic way, George would often take himself to task before his
brother for coming to life again, and say, "Dear Harry, I am George the
Unlucky, though you have ceased to be Harry the Fortunate. Florac would
have done much better not to pass his sword through that Indian's body,
and to have left my scalp as an ornament for the fellow's belt. I say he
would, sir! At White's the peop