him? At that time,
unhappily, many deplorable duels had been fought between English and
French officers, arising out of the recent war; and these duels, and how
to avoid this officer's hospitality, were the uppermost thought in
Captain Richard Doubledick's mind.

He was thinking, and letting the time run out in which he should have
dressed for dinner, when Mrs. Taunton spoke to him outside the door,
asking if he could give her the letter he had brought from Mary. "His
mother, above all," the Captain thought. "How shall I tell _her_?"

"You will form a friendship with your host, I hope," said Mrs. Taunton,
whom he hurriedly admitted, "that will last for life. He is so
true-hearted and so generous, Richard, that you can hardly fail to esteem
one another. If He had been spared," she kissed (not without tears) the
locket in which she wore his hair, "he would have appreciated him with
his own magnanimity, and would have been truly happy that the evil days
were past which made such a man his enemy."

She left the room; and the Captain walked, first to one window, whence he
could see the dancing in the garden, then to another window, whence he
could see the smiling prospect and the peaceful vineyards.

"Spirit of my departed friend," said he, "is it through thee these better
thoughts are rising in my mind? Is it thou who hast shown me, all the
way I have been drawn to meet this man, the blessings of the altered
time? Is it thou who hast sent thy stricken mother to me, to stay my
angry hand? Is it from thee the whisper comes, that this man did his
duty as thou didst,--and as I did, through thy guidance, which has wholly
saved me here on earth,--and that he did no more?"

He sat down, with his head buried in his hands, and, when he rose up,
made the second strong resolution of his life,--that neither to the
French officer, nor to the mother of his departed friend, nor to any
soul, while either of the two was living, would he breathe what only he
knew. And when he touched that French officer's glass with his own, that
day at dinner, he secretly forgave him in the name of the Divine Forgiver
of injuries.

* * * * *

Here I ended my story as the first Poor Traveller. But, if I had told it
now, I could have added that the time has since come when the son of
Major Richard Doubledick, and the son of that French officer, friends as
their fathers were before them, fought side by side in one cause, with
their respectiv