an attachment which may endure through
their lives! I tell the Nabob so. We went from the House of Commons
one dancing-day and saw them. 'Twas beautiful to see the young things
walking a minuet together! It brought tears into my eyes, for I have a
feeling heart, George, and I love my boy!"

"But if I prefer Miss Lambert, uncle, with twopence to her fortune, to
the Countess, with her hundred thousand pounds?"

"Why then, sir, you have a singular taste, that's all," says the old
gentleman, turning on his heel and leaving me. And I could perfectly
understand his vexation at my not being able to see the world as he
viewed it.

Nor did my Aunt Bernstein much like the engagement which I had made,
or the family with which I passed so much of my time. Their simple ways
wearied, and perhaps annoyed, the old woman of the world, and she no
more relished their company than a certain person (who is not so black
as he is painted) likes holy water. The old lady chafed at my for ever
dangling at my sweetheart's lap. Having risen mightily in her favour,
I began to fall again: and once more Harry was the favourite, and his
brother, Heaven knows, not jealous.

He was now our family hero. He wrote us brief letters from the seat of
war where he was engaged; Madame Bernstein caring little at first
about the letters or the writer, for they were simple, and the facts he
narrated not over interesting. We had early learned in London the news
of the action on the glorious first of August at Minden, where Wolfe's
old regiment was one of the British six which helped to achieve the
victory on that famous day. At the same hour, the young General lay in
his bed, in sight of Quebec, stricken down by fever, and perhaps rage
and disappointment at the check which his troops had just received.

Arriving in the St. Lawrence in June, the fleet which brought Wolfe and
his army had landed them on the last day of the month on the Island of
Orleans, opposite which rises the great cliff of Quebec. After the great
action in which his General fell, the dear brother who accompanied the
chief, wrote home to me one of his simple letters, describing his modest
share in that glorious day, but added nothing to the many descriptions
already wrote of the action of the 13th of September, save only I
remember he wrote, from the testimony of a brother aide-de-camp who was
by his side, that the General never spoke at all after receiving his
death-wound, so that the phras