the arrow from her cheek.

"And now, kind Charlotte, fetch my cloak; and follow me to Prospect
House, with what I may require for the night. Till the general's return,
I stay not here one minute."

Then, without a syllable, or a look of leave-taking, the wise and noble
girl--doubtless unconsciously remembering her early Hindoo braveries,
the lines of matchlock men, the bowing slaves, the processions, and her
jewelled state of old--marched away in magnificent beauty, accompanied
in silence by the whole astonished household.

Mrs. Tracy and her son were left alone: the silly, silly mother thought
him "hardly used." Julian, whose natural effrontery had entirely
deserted him, looked like what he was--a guilty coward: and the mother,
who had pampered up her "fine high-spirited son" to his full-grown
criminality by a foolish education, really--when she had time to think
of any thing but him--was excessively frightened. The general would be
back to-morrow, and then--and then!--she dreaded to picture that
explosion of his wrath.

CHAPTER XV.

SATISFACTION.

Sir Abraham Tamworth, G.C.B.--a fine old Admiral of the White, who
somewhat looked down upon the rank of General, H.E.I.C.S.--was
astonished, as well he might be, at Mr. Saunders, and his message: and,
of course, most gladly acquiesced in acting as poor Emily's protector.
Accordingly, however jealous Lady Tamworth and her daughters might
heretofore have felt of that bright beauty at the balls, they were now
all genuine sympathy, indignation, and affection. Emily, I need hardly
say, went straight up stairs to have her cry out.

"Whom are you writing to, George, in such a hurry?" asked the admiral,
of a fine moustachioed son, George St. Vincent Tamworth, of the Royal
Horse Guards, who had just got six months' leave of absence for the sake
of marriage with his cousin.

The gallant soldier tossed a billet to his father, who mounted his
spectacles, and quietly read it at the lamp.

"Captain Tamworth desires Mr. Julian Tracy's company to-morrow morning,
at seven o'clock, in the third meadow on the Oxton road. The captain
brings a friend with him; also pistols and a surgeon; and he desires Mr.
Tracy to do the like: Prospect House, Thursday evening."

"So, George, you consider him a gentleman, do you? I am afraid it's a
poor compliment to our fair young friend." And he quietly crumpled up
the challenge in his iron hand.

"Really, sir!--you surprise me;--pardon