Mamma whispered her friend how James and
the lady were going to make a match, and how she came of the famous
Lowther family of the North.

"If she was the daughter of King Charlemagne," cries Lambert, "she is
not too good for James Wolfe, or for his mother's son."

"Mr. Lambert would not say so if he knew her," the young Colonel
declared.

"Oh, of course, she is the priceless pearl, and you are nothing," cries
mamma. "No. I am of Colonel Lambert's opinion; and, if she brought all
Cumberland to you for a jointure, I should say it was my James's due.
That is the way with 'em, Mr. Warrington. We tend our children through
fevers, and measles, and whooping-cough, and small-pox; we send them to
the army and can't sleep at night for thinking; we break our hearts at
parting with 'em, and have them at home only for a week or two in the
year, or maybe ten years, and, after all our care, there comes a lass
with a pair of bright eyes, and away goes our boy, and never cares a fig
for us afterwards."

"And pray, my dear, how did you come to marry James's papa?" said
the elder Colonel Wolfe. "And why didn't you stay at home with your
parents?"

"Because James's papa was gouty, and wanted somebody to take care of
him, I suppose; not because I liked him a bit," answers the lady: and so
with much easy talk and kindness the evening passed away.

On the morrow, and with many expressions of kindness and friendship for
his late guest, Colonel Lambert gave over the young Virginian to Mr.
Wolfe's charge, and turned his horse's head homewards, while the two
gentlemen sped towards Tunbridge Wells. Wolfe was in a hurry to reach
the place, Harry Warrington was, perhaps, not quite so eager: nay, when
Lambert rode towards his own home, Harry's thoughts followed him with
a great deal of longing desire to the parlour at Oakhurst, where he
had spent three days in happy calm. Mr. Wolfe agreed in all Harry's
enthusiastic praises of Mr. Lambert, and of his wife, and of his
daughters, and of all that excellent family. "To have such a good name,
and to live such a life as Colonel Lambert's," said Wolfe, "seem to me
now the height of human ambition."

"And glory and honour?" asked Warrington, "are those nothing? and would
you give up the winning of them?"

"They were my dreams once," answered the Colonel, who had now different
ideas of happiness, "and now my desires are much more tranquil. I have
followed arms ever since I was fourteen years of ag