g as encouragingly
as I could of my own prospects. I dwelt much upon what was nearest my
heart, and begged of the good priest to watch over my uncle's health, to
cheer his spirits and support his courage; and that I trusted the day was
not far distant when I should be once more among them, with many a story
of fray and battle-field to enliven their firesides. Pressing him to write
frequently to me, I closed my hurried letter; and having despatched it, sat
sorrowfully down to muse over my fortunes.

CHAPTER LXIV.

AN ADVENTURE WITH SIR ARTHUR.

The events of the last few days had impressed me with a weight of years.
The awful circumstances of that evening lay heavily at my heart; and though
guiltless of Trevyllian's blood, the reproach that conscience ever carries
when one has been involved in a death-scene never left my thoughts.

For some time previously I had been depressed and dis-spirited, and the
awful shock I had sustained broke my nerve and unmanned me greatly.

There are times when our sorrows tinge all the colorings of our thoughts,
and one pervading hue of melancholy spreads like a pall upon what we have
of fairest and brightest on earth. So was it now: I had lost hope and
ambition; a sad feeling that my career was destined to misfortune and
mishap gained hourly upon me; and all the bright aspirations of a soldier's
glory, all my enthusiasm for the pomp and circumstance of glorious war,
fell coldly upon my heart, and I looked upon the chivalry of a soldier's
life as the empty pageant of a dream.

In this sad frame of mind, I avoided all intercourse with my brother
officers; their gay and joyous spirits only jarred upon my brooding
thoughts, and feigning illness, I kept almost entirely to my quarters.

The inactivity of our present life weighed also heavily upon me. The
stirring events of a campaign--the march, the bivouac, the picket--call
forth a certain physical exertion that never fails to react upon the torpid
mind.

Forgetting all around me, I thought of home; I thought of those whose
hearts I felt were now turning towards me, and considered within myself how
I could have exchanged the home, the days of peaceful happiness there, for
the life of misery and disappointment I now endured.

A brooding melancholy gained daily more and more upon me. A wish, to return
to Ireland, a vague and indistinct feeling that my career was not destined
for aught of great and good crept upon me, and I longed