CHAPTER VII.

"There waiter Dick, with bacchanalian lays, Shall win his heart, and have his drunken praise." _Cooper._

The party at the Towers broke up with the usual precipitancy that characterized the Earl's movements. He himself, accompanied by his sisters, travelled at once to London, where the young ladies were to spend a few weeks with a friend, whilst their brother proceeded to his Court duties at the Pavilion, Brighton. Arranmore had preceded them on his way to the South of Ireland by some days; he hastened thither to prepare his mansion for its future mistress, Lady Edith, soon to be the Marchioness of Arranmore. Frank had received an order to join the 60th, his regiment, then at Southampton, on the point of embarkation for Corfu, the favourite station in the Ionian Isles. We have now only the Captain to dispose of, who, finding the Towers uncommonly dull, set off with Sir Richard to rejoin the 7th at Brighton, and travelled at express speed in a post chaise and four, arriving at the barracks on the very evening L'Estrange was grieving over his misfortunes. The Captain's return was hailed with joy by the whole of his fellow officers, who were a very fast set at best, and too much delighted by the Captain's entertainments not to welcome him back with glee. Even the Colonel, Sir Harry Maynard, a hale, jolly-looking fellow, with white hair and ruddy face, looked forward with joy to De Vere's suppers, where the best wines were drunk and the merriest songs sung. True to his character, the Captain celebrated his arrival by a grand dinner, to which Sir Harry was himself invited, and did full justice to the wines. After this feast the Captain and half a dozen others went to the theatre, which the Prince Regent honoured with his presence that night, and stayed through the first play--a comedy--after which he proposed an adjournment to a neighbouring public-house, which was joyfully acceded to, for the Captain was merriest when over the social glass.

"Well, De Vere," said Major Forster, "and how went jolly Christmas up in the North?"

"So, so, old boy," answered the Captain, who presided at the head of a finely polished oak table, at the same time filling a bumper, and placing a black, little pipe, silver-mounted, on the board--"so, so; the Towers were not as full as usual, but we had some devilish good days. Arranmore was there, and by G--, he drinks like a fish--how did you get on?"

"Famously! the Regent supped with us that night; a rare old buck is he."

"Zounds, and that's true; but what the deuce has become of L'Estrange? I miss his face, by Jove!"

"A ticklish question that, and hard to answer--Lord knows what has come over him; he is quite changed of late--no more the jolly fellow he was--he sits moping and silent in his rooms--I fancy Dame Venus is at the bottom of it."

"Right, Major, and well guessed too," said young Pringle, a lieutenant, "some girl he was soft on has given him the slip, and the poor devil has taken it sadly to heart."

"Egad, and I know who she is," replied the Captain, "and a devilish fine girl she is too--but I wouldn't give a snap for his chances."

"Who? who?" broke in several at once.

"Ask the foul fiend; you don't catch me blabbing," was the laconic reply.

Knowing the Captain's moods, the conversation was immediately altered, and Major Forster proposed a song. "Come, Pringle, let us have the song you sung us last night again. De Vere has never heard it;--first your health, De Vere."

"With pleasure," said the Captain, emptying his glass.

"Now then, come along, old fellow,--out with your song!"

Lieutenant Pringle standing up, and laying aside his cigar, then commenced the following song, in a rich tenor voice:--

SONG.

I live a life of pleasure, I hate the man that staid is; I think earth owns no treasure So charming as the ladies! For them I would endure all The purgatory of Hades, And think I did secure all If I secured the ladies!

Wine--ladies bright--and laughter Let my young years be spent in, And tedious old age after Will bring time to repent in! The earth owns many a pleasure, But all together weighed is A trifle beyond measure, Compared with you, sweet ladies!

The man that suns in beauty His heart, right well repaid is; And every Briton's duty Is this, to love the ladies! Our soldiers, and our seamen, They dearly love the lasses, In battle they can be men, In love they can be asses!

I live a life of pleasure, I hate the man that staid is! Fill up a sparkling measure, And drain it to the ladies! Here, seated at "The Dragon," Oft may we meet to give it, And to _her_ drain the flagon Who most our heart doth rivet!

"Bravo, Pringle, bravo--what do you think of it, De Vere?"

"A merry song, though somewhat lengthy, Forster. Never mind, Pringle, you did your best, and, egad, sang it capitally."

Other songs were sung, and toasts drunk, when all of a sudden Captain de Vere sprung up with an exclamation, and said he knew where he was off to, and, relighting his black little pipe, he strode towards the door.

"Where are you going, De Vere?" said young Pringle.

"What is that to you? Ask no questions--you know the rest."

"I only asked because I thought I might accompany you."

"Your room, in this instance, is preferable to your company, old boy! So don't any of you follow." And he left the room without even saying good bye.

"What mischief can he be after now?" said Pringle.

"Heaven only knows," answered the Major.