she had lived, to say with pride arnd joy,
'He is my son!'"

"Spare me, sir;" said Doubledick. "She
would never have heard any good of me.
She would never have had any pride and joy
in owning herself my mother. Love and
compassion she might have had. and would
have always had, I know; but not—Spare
me, sir! I am a broken wretch, quite at
your mercy!" And he turned his face to the
wall, and stretched out his imploring hand.

"My friend—" began the captain.

"God bless you, sir!" sobbed Private
Richard Doubledick.

"You are at the crisis of your fate. Hold
your course unchanged, a little longer, and
you know what must happen, / know even
better than you can imagine, that after that
has happened, you are lost. No man who
could shed those tears, could bear those
marks."

"I fully believe it, sir," in a low, shivering
voice, said Private Richard Doubledick.

"But a man in any station can do his
duty," said the young Captain, "and, in doing
it, can earn his own respect, even if his case
should be so very unfortunate and so very
rare, that he can earn no other man's. A
common soldier, poor brute though you called
him just now, has this advantage in the
stormy times we live in, that he always does his
duty before a host of sympathising witnesses.
Do you doubt that he may so do it as to be
extolled through a whole regiment, through
a whole army, through a whole country?
Turn while you may yet retrieve the past,
and try."

"I will! I ask for only one witness, sir,"
cried Richard, with a bursting heart.

"I understand you. I will be a watchful
and a faithful one."

I have heard from Private Richard Doubledick's
own lips, that he dropped down upon
his knee, kissed that officer's hand, arose, and
went out of the light of the dark bright eyes,
an altered man.

In that year, one thousand seven hundred
and ninety-nine, the French were in Egypt,
in Italy, in Germany, where not? Napoleon
Buonaparte had likewise begun to stir
against us in India, and most men could read
the signs of the great troubles that were coming
on. In the very next year, when we formed an
alliance with Austria against him, Captain
Taunton's regiment was on service in India.
And there was not a finer non-commissioned
officer in it no, nor in the whole line than
Corporal Richard Doubledick.

In eighteen hundred and one, the Indian
army were on the coast of Egypt. Next year
was the year of the proclamation of the short
peace, and they were recalled. It had then
become well known to thousands of men, that
wherever Captain Taunton with the dark
bright eyes, led, there, close to him, ever at
his side, firm as a rock, true as the sun, and
brave as Mars, would be certain to be found,
while life beat in their hearts, that famous
soldier, Sergeant Richard Doubledick.

Eighteen hundred and five, besides being
the great year of Trafalgar, was a year of
hard fighting in India. That year saw such
wonders done by a Sergeant-Major, who cut
his way single-handed through a solid mass
of men, recovered the colours of his regiment
which had been seized from the hand of a
poor boy shot through the heart, and rescued
his wounded captain, who was down, and in
a very jungle of horses' hoofs and sabres—
saw such wonders done, I say, by this brave
Sergeant-Major, that he was specially made
the bearer of the colours he had won; and
Ensign Richard Doubledick had risen from
the ranks.

Sorely cut up in every battle, but always
reinforced by the bravest of men—for, the
fame of following the old colours, shot
through and through, which Ensign Richard
Doubledick had saved, inspired all breasts—
this regiment fought its way through the
Peninsular war, up to the investment of
Badajos in eighteen hundred and twelve.
Again and again it had been cheered through
the British ranks until the tears had sprung
into men's eyes at the mere hearing of the
mighty British voice so exultant in their
valour; and there was not a drummer-boy
but knew the legend, that wherever the two
friends, Major Taunton with the dark bright
eyes, and Ensign Richard Doubledick who
was devoted to him, were seen to go, there
the boldest spirits in the English army became
wild to follow.

One day, at Badajos—not in the great
storming, but in repelling a hot sally of the
besieged upon our men at work in the
trenches, who had given way, the two officers
found themselves hurrying forward, face to
face, against a party of French infantry who
made a stand. There was an officer at their
head, encouraging his men—a courageous,
handsome, gallant officer of five and thirty—
whom Doubledick saw hurriedly, almost
momentarily, but saw well. He particularly
noticed this officer waving his sword, and
rallying his men with an eager and excited
cry, when they fired in obedience to his
gesture, and Major Taunton dropped.

It was over in ten minutes more, and
Doubledick returned to the spot where he
had laid the best friend man ever had, on
a coat spread upon the wet clay. Major
Taunton's uniform was opened at the breast,
and on his shirt were three little spots of
blood.

"Dear Doubledick," said he, "I am dying."

"For the love of Heaven, no!" exclaimed
the other, kneeling down beside him, and
passing his arm round his neck to raise his
head. "Taunton! My preserver, my guardian
angel, my witness! Dearest, truest,
kindest of human beings! Taunton! For
God's sake!"

The bright dark eyes—so very, very dark