and he lay for several days betwixt life
and death, and happily unconscious of his
misery.

Meantime, another scene was being enacted
elsewhere. The officers, who night after night
found themselves losers, had not for some
time entertained the least idea of foul play,
but at length, one of them observing something
suspicious, began to watch, and satisfied
himself, by a peculiar method adopted by Lovell in
'throwing his mains,' that he was the culprit.
His suspicions were whispered from one to
another, till they nearly all entertained them,
with the exception of Herbert, who, being
looked upon as Lovell's most especial friend,
was not told. So unwilling were these
young men to blast, for ever, the character of
the visitor whom they had so much liked,
and to strike a fatal blow at the happiness
and respectability of his family, that they
were hesitating how to proceed, whether to
openly accuse him or privately reprove and
expel him, when Herbert's heavy loss decided
the question.

Herbert himself, overwhelmed with despair,
had quitted the room, the rest were still
seated around the table, when having given
each other a signal, one of them, called Frank
Houston, arose and said: 'Gentlemen, it gives
me great pain to have to call your attention
to a very strange—a very distressing
circumstance. For some time past there has been an
extraordinary run of luck in one direction—
we have all observed it—all remarked on it.
Mr. Herbert has at this moment retired a
heavy loser. There is, indeed, as far as I
know, but one winner amongst us—but one,
and he a winner to a very considerable
amount; the rest all losers. God forbid, that
I should rashly accuse any man! Lightly
blast any man's character! But I am bound
to say, that I fear the money we have lost has
not been fairly won. There has been foul
play! I forbear to name the party—the facts
sufficiently indicate him.'

Who would not have pitied Lovell, when,
livid with horror and conscious guilt, he
vainly tried to say something? 'Indeed—I
assure you—I never'—but words would not
come; he faltered and rushed out of the room
in a transport of agony. They did pity him;
and when he was gone, agreed amongst
themselves to hush up the affair: but
unfortunately, the civilians of the party, who had
not been let into the secret, took up his
defence. They not only believed the accusation
unfounded, but felt it as an affront offered
to their townsman; they blustered about it a
good deal, and there was nothing left for it
but to appoint a committee of investigation.
Alas! the evidence was overwhelming! It
turned out that the dice and cards had been
supplied by Lovell. The former, still on the
table, were found on examination to be
loaded. In fact, he had had a pair as a
curiosity long in his possession, and had
obtained others from a disreputable
character at Oxford. No doubt remained of his
guilt.

All this while Herbert had been too ill to
be addressed on the subject; but symptoms
of recovery were now beginning to appear;
and as nobody was aware that he had any
particular interest in the Lovell family, the affair
was communicated to him. At first he refused
to believe in his friend's guilt, and became
violently irritated. His informants assured
him they would be too happy to find they were
mistaken, but that since the inquiry no hope
of such an issue remained, and he sank into a
gloomy silence.

On the following morning, when his servant
came to his room door, he found it locked.
When, at the desire of the surgeon, it was
broken open, Herbert was found a corpse, and
a discharged pistol lying beside him. An
inquest sat upon the body, and the verdict
brought in was Temporary Insanity. There
never was one more just.

Preparations were now made for the funeral
—that funeral which we had witnessed; but
before the day appointed for it arrived, another
chapter of this sad story was unfolded.

When Charles left the barracks on that
fatal night, instead of going home, he passed
the dark hours in wandering wildly about the
country; but when morning dawned, fearing
the eye of man, he returned to the vicarage,
and slunk unobserved to his chamber. When
he did not appear at breakfast, his mother
sought him in his room, where she found him
in bed. He said he was very ill—and so
indeed he was—and begged to be left alone;
but as he was no better on the following day,
she insisted on sending for medical advice.
The doctor found him with all those physical
symptoms that are apt to supervene from
great anxiety of mind; and saying he could
get no sleep, Charles requested to have some
laudanum; but the physician was on his
guard, for although the parties concerned
wished to keep the thing private, some
rumours had got abroad that awakened his
caution.

The parents, meanwhile, had not the slightest
anticipation of the thunderbolt that was
about to fall upon them. They lived a very
retired life, were acquainted with none of the
officers—and they were even ignorant of the
amount of their son's intimacy with the
regiment. Thus, when news of Herbert's
lamentable death reached them, the mother said
to her son: 'Charles, did you know a young
man in the barracks called Herbert; a
lieutenant, I believe? By the bye, I hope it's not
Emily's Mr. Herbert.'

'Did I know him?' said Charles, turning
suddenly towards her, for, under pretence that
the light annoyed him, he always lay with his
face to the wall. 'Why do you ask, mother?'

'Because he's dead. He  had a fever,
and—'

'Herbert dead!' cried Charles, suddenly
sitting up in the bed.