sight of them so many years before! Then life and love were new, and all
the prospect was gilded by their rays. And now, disappointed in
affection, sated with fame, goaded by bitter and repentant
recollections, his best hope was to find a retirement in which to nurse
the melancholy which was to accompany him to his grave. About a year
before, in India, he had returned from a distant expedition to find a
young cadet named Brown established as the habitual attendant on his
wife and daughter, an arrangement which displeased him greatly, owing to
the suggestions of another cadet, though no objection could be made to
the youth's character or manners. Brown made some efforts to overcome
his colonel's prejudice, but feeling himself repulsed, and with scorn,
desisted, and continued his attentions in defiance. At last some trifle
occurred which occasioned high words and a challenge. They met on the
frontiers of the settlement, and Brown fell at the first shot. A horde
of Looties, a species of banditti, poured in upon them, and Colonel
Mannering and his second escaped with some difficulty. His wife's death
shortly after, and his daughter's severe illness, made him throw up his
command and come home. She was now staying with some old friends in
Westmoreland, almost restored to her wonted health and gaiety.

When Colonel Mannering reached the house he found his old acquaintance
paralysed, helpless, waiting for the postchaise to take him away.
Mannering's evident emotion at once attained him the confidence of Lucy
Bertram. The laird showed no signs of recognising Mannering; but when
the man, Gilbert Glossin, who had brought him to this pass, had the
effrontery to make his appearance, he started up, violently reproaching
him, sank into his chair again, and died almost without a groan.

A torrent of sympathy now poured forth, the sale was postponed, and
Mannering decided on making a short tour till it should take place, but