The young man fell into a dramatic tearing-of-hair and long-stride fury, not ill becoming an enamoured dragoon.

But he maintained that his aunt, though an eccentric, was a cordially kind woman.

He seemed to feel, if he did not partly hint, that the General might have accepted Lady Camper's terms.

The young officer could no longer be welcome at Douro Lodge, so the General paid him a morning call at his quarters, and was distressed to find him breakfasting very late, tapping eggs that he forgot to open--one of the surest signs of a young man downright and deep in love, as the General knew from experience--and surrounded by uncut sporting journals of past weeks, which dated from the day when his blow had struck him, as accurately as the watch of the drowned man marks his minute.

Lady Camper had gone to Italy, and was in communication with her nephew: Reginald was not further explicit.