Part 47 (1/2)

”Pray rest here, Papa,” said the child, softly; and she pointed to the bench, without taking heed of its pre-occupant, who now, indeed, confined to one corner of the seat, was almost hidden by the shadow of the tree.

The man sat down, with a feeble sigh, and then, observing the stranger, raised his hat, and said, in that tone of voice which betrays the usages of polished society, ”Forgive me if I intrude on you, sir.”

The stranger looked up from his dog, and seeing that the girl was standing, rose at once, as if to make room for her on the bench.

But still the girl did not heed him. She hung over her father, and wiped his brow tenderly with a little kerchief which she took from her own neck for the purpose.

Nero, delighted to escape the cigar, had taken to some unwieldy curvets and gambols, to vent the excitement into which he had been thrown; and now returning, approached the bench with a low growl of surprise, and sniffed at the intruders of his master's privacy.

”Come here, sir,” said the master. ”You need not fear him,” he added, addressing himself to the girl.

But the girl, without turning round to him, cried in a voice rather of anguish than alarm, ”He has fainted! Father! Father!”

The stranger kicked aside his dog, which was in the way, and loosened the poor man's stiff military stock. While thus charitably engaged, the moon broke out, and the light fell full on the pale, careworn face of the unconscious sufferer.

”This face seems not unfamiliar to me, though sadly changed,” said the stranger to himself; and bending towards the girl, who had sunk on her knees, and was chafing her father's hand, he asked, ”My child, what is your father's name?”

The child continued her task, too absorbed to answer.

The stranger put his hand on her shoulder, and repeated the question.

”Digby,” answered the child, almost unconsciously; and as she spoke the man's senses began to return. In a few minutes more he had sufficiently recovered to falter forth his thanks to the stranger. But the last took his hand, and said, in a voice at once tremulous and soothing, ”Is it possible that I see once more an old brother in arms? Algernon Digby, I do not forget you; but it seems England has forgotten.”

A hectic flush spread over the soldier's face, and he looked away from the speaker as he answered,--

”My name is Digby, it is true, sir; but I do not think we have met before. Come, Helen, I am well now,--we will go home.”

”Try and play with that great dog, my child,” said the stranger,--”I want to talk with your father.”

The child bowed her submissive head, and moved away; but she did not play with the dog.

”I must reintroduce myself formally, I see,” quoth the stranger. ”You were in the same regiment with myself, and my name is L'Estrange.”

”My Lord,” said the soldier, rising, ”forgive me that--”

”I don't think that it was the fas.h.i.+on to call me 'my lord' at the mess-table. Come, what has happened to you?--on half-pay?”

Mr. Digby shook his head mournfully.

”Digby, old fellow, can you lend me L100?” said Lord L'Estrange, clapping his ci-devant brother-officer on the shoulder, and in a tone of voice that seemed like a boy's, so impudent was it, and devil-me-Garish.

”No! Well, that's lucky, for I can lend it to you.” Mr. Digby burst into tears.

Lord L'Estrange did not seem to observe the emotion, but went on carelessly,--

”Perhaps you don't know that, besides being heir to a father who is not only very rich, but very liberal, I inherited, on coming of age, from a maternal relation, a fortune so large that it would bore me to death if I were obliged to live up to it. But in the days of our old acquaintance, I fear we were both sad extravagant fellows, and I dare say I borrowed of you pretty freely.”

”Me! Oh, Lord L'Estrange!”

”You have married since then, and reformed, I suppose. Tell me, old friend, all about it.”