ground in despair, and, standing over him with folded arms, made a rude recital of his virtues. "There goes as good an officer as ever wore the king's red coat, and as kind to his company as he was bold at their head. It is long before we shall see your like again, Captain Gordon.”

Vaughan sprang from the column, and found in the silent subject of this honest panegyric, his friend, the husband of Julia!"

Assistance was, of course, now promptly given. Gordon, still insensible, was carried to the village, and Vaughan insisted on attending him in person. As he looked on the pale features of this handsome and highminded man, the thought of Julia's desolation struck bitterly upon his mind, and he involuntarily pronounced her name.

Gordon started from his insensibility at the sound, and, in a feeble and bewildered utterance murmured, "Who talks of Julia? I am dying. She has but one friend on earth, and he is about to leave her.”

"She has another," said Vaughan; "one who has pledged himself never to desert ber."

""Tis Vaughan!" said Gordon, sinking back exhausted, but not unconscious, on his pillow. "Come near me,-nearer still; I have scarcely power to speak above a whisper; it is of vital consequence that you lose

not a word of what I ain about to say. You remember your promise to me, Vaughan, when we parted; I was a true prophet. See what I am now. It was a kind fate that sent you there to make that promise, and here at this hour to fulfil it.

Vaughan tried to give him hopes of speedy recovery. "No," said Gordon, struggling for utterance; "I must die!-1 have faced death before, but life is dear to me now for the sake of my wife and child. Here," drawing from his bosom two letters, "take these; the one is a farewell to my Julia, the other a last appeal to the heart of a father."

A silence ensued, which Vaughan could not trust himself to break. "I wish," said Gordon feebly, "that these letters should be delivered by your own hand. You will see England again.".

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"I had thought," said Vaughan, his heart swelling with the bitter recollections associated with the sound, "to have seen England no more; but, rely upon it, happen what may to me, these letters shall be guarded as sacred, confided to none but such as I may safely trust, or retained in my posses sion till I can deliver them myself. In such a cause I would go to the remotest ends of the earth. I will come face to face with your inexorable father."

"You have a warm heart, Vaughan," an

swered Gordon, wringing his friend's hand; "it renders the tongue eloquent, and I could hope all things from your noble energy. My father must give way; his resentment will not extend beyond the grave."

"Impossible," cried Vaughan, with a burst of feeling, "if he be a man."

"It is plain, Vaughan," answered Gordon, with a dejected smile, "that you have still something to learn of human nature.

once formed hopes, of which time has since shown the fallacy. Fondly as I loved Julia, I would not have yielded to the generous romance of her nature, and condemned her to such a life as she has since known, had I not placed some reliance on my father's subsequent forgiveness. But he has a stern and haughty nature. Heavens! when I saw Julia, once the life and spirit of an admiring circle, banished to her hopeless solitude, and felt that my father was at that hour sitting in his proud mansion with almost boundless opulence at his command, surrounded by a train of pampered slaves, every one of whom was more an object of his consideration than his exiled son, the thought has. stung me deeper than I would tell to any other ear."

The surgeon entered; and having dressed his wounds with the air of one to whom such scenes were familiar, took Vaughan aside. "He will not die to-night," he observed;

"life is stronger in him than you think; but if he has any thing to communicate let it be told to-night."

"Are we again alone ?" said Gordon, looking anxiously around; "then listen. It is of consequence that you should know those with whom you have to deal. I have a bro ther, who, strange as it may seem, neglects no means to fan the family irritation. He is extravagant, selfish, and splendid

a profligate of the first celebrity; my father's idol from his birth; the chief bond of union is perhaps the resemblance which we can trace in others to ourselves."

"And shall I find this brother too?" said Vaughan; "tell him how and where I left you, and subdue him if I can ?"

66 No," said Gordon, "he is heartless. Obtain a private audience of my father; 'tis your only chance. Yes," he repeated, "it is poor Julia's only chance! From her own family she can have no hope. Their wretched extravagance must end in ruin.”

Vaughan soothed him. "The pledge which I have given is too sacred to be forgotten."

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Thanks, a thousand thanks,” said Gordon; "I will bless you as long as I live. I had forgot," he said, a transient flush mount ing to his hollow countenance, "how short can be my term of gratitude; but I leave those behind who will bless you for me."

The drums beat. "Farewell, Gordon, for to-night." "Farewell in this world-for ever," said Gordon, in a broken voice, turning to his pillow.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The spear is in his side. A surgeon, ho!

He breathes, there's colour in his cheek; some help.
Now his life's tide has ebbed again,—he sinks,

He's dust and ashes.

Phineas Webb.

THE following morning, at day-break, the army was in march on the traces of the French. Vaughan snatched a moment to fly to the cottage. There, to his dismay, he learned that Gordon had been worse during the night, and that he had been conveyed away by a waggon of the commissariat, but where no one could tell. Further investigation was now impossible. His regiment, of which, by its loss of officers, he was now major, and in command, was already in advance, and he was forced to put spurs to his horse and follow.

The second capture of the great disturber of mankind once more appeared to proclaim

VOL. II.

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