“That this was the case in part, I admit,” returned Captain Blessington.  “The feelings of the men partook of a mixed character.  It was evident that grief for Halloway, compassion for his wife, secret indignation and, it may be, disgust at the severity of your father, and sorrow for his innocent family, who were included in that denunciation, predominated with equal force in their hearts at the same moment.  There was an expression that told how little they would have pitied any anguish of mind inflicted on their colonel, provided his children, whom they loved, were not to be sacrificed to its accomplishment.”

“You admit, then, Blessington, although indirectly,” replied the young De Haldimar in a voice of touching sorrow, “that the consummation of the sacrifice is to be looked for.  Alas! it is that on which my mind perpetually lingers; yet, Heaven knows, my fears are not for myself.”

“You mistake me, dearest Charles.  I look upon the observations of the unhappy woman as the ravings of a distracted mind—­the last wild outpourings of a broken heart, turning with animal instinct on the hand that has inflicted its death-blow.”

“Ah, why did she except no one member of that family!” said the unhappy De Haldimar, pursuing rather the chain of his reflections than replying to the observation of his captain.  “Had the weight of her malediction fallen on all else than my adored sister, I could have borne the infliction, and awaited the issue with resignation, if not without apprehension.  But my poor gentle and unoffending Clara,—­alike innocent of the cause, and ignorant of the effect,—­what had she done to be included in this terrible curse?—­she, who, in the warm and generous affection of her nature, had ever treated Ellen Halloway rather as a sister than as the dependant she always appeared.”  Again he covered his eyes with his hands, to conceal the starting tears.

“De Haldimar,” said Captain Blessington reprovingly, but mildly, “this immoderate grief is wrong—­it is unmanly, and should be repressed.  I can feel and understand the nature of your sorrow; but others may not judge so favourably.  We shall soon be summoned to fall in; and I would not that Mr. Delme, in particular, should notice an emotion he is so incapable of understanding.”

The hand of the young officer dropped from his face to the hilt of his sword.  His cheek became scarlet; and even through the tears which he half choked himself to command, there was an unwonted flashing from his blue eye, that told how deeply the insinuation had entered into his heart.

“Think you, Captain Blessington,” he proudly retorted, “there is an officer in the fort who should dare to taunt me with my feelings as you have done?  I came here, sir, in the expectation I should be alone.  At a fitting hour I shall be found where Captain Blessington’s subaltern should be—­with his company.”