," cried she, angrily. "Our soldiers are the bravest in
the world; they possess a courage that asks no aid from the promptings
of self-interest, nor the urgings of vanity; they are very lions in
combat; but it needs the chivalrous ardor of the gentleman, the man
of blood and lineage to conceive a feat like this. It was only a noble
patriotism could suggest the thought of such an achievement."

"I must say," said Hankes, in confusion, "the young fellow acquitted
himself admirably; but I would also beg to observe that there is nothing
in the newspaper to lead to the conclusion you are disposed to draw.
There's not a word of his being a gentleman."

"But I know it, sir,--the fact is known to _me_. Charles Conway is a man
of family; he was once a man of fortune: he had served as an officer
in a Lancer regiment; he had been extravagant, wild, wasteful, if you
will."

"Why, it can't be the Smasher you're talking of?--the great swell that
used to drive the four chestnuts in the Park, and made the wager he 'd
go in at one window of Stagg and Mantle's and out at t'other?"

"I don't care to hear of such follies, sir, when there are better things
to be remembered. Besides, he is my brother's dearest friend, and I will
not hear him spoken of but with respect. Take _my_ word for it, sir, I
am but asking what you had done, without a hint, were he only present."

"I believe you,--by Jove, I believe you!" cried Hankes, with an honesty
in the tone of his voice that actually made her smile. "And so this is
Conway the Smasher!"

"Pray, Mr. Hankes, recall him by some other association. It is only fair
to remember that he has given us the fitting occasion."

"Ay, very true,--what you say is perfectly just; and, as you say, he
is your brother's friend. Who would have thought it!--who would have
thought it!".

Without puzzling ourselves to inquire what it was that thus excited Mr.
Hankes's astonishment, let us observe that gentleman, as he turns over,
one by one, the papers in the box, muttering his comments meanwhile to
himself: "Old title-deeds,--very old indeed,--all the ancient contracts
are recited. Sir Gwellem Conway must have been a man of mark and note in
those days. Here we find him holding 'in capite' from the king, twelve
thousand acres, with the condition that he builds a strong castle and
a 'bawn.' And these are, apparently, Sir Gwellem's own letters. Ah!
and here we have him or his descendant called Baron of Ackroyd and