Yet the explanation which Lord Woodville thus offered to the
company seemed hardly satisfactory to his own mind, and it was in
a fit of silence and abstraction that he waited the return of the
General. It took place near an hour after the breakfast bell had
rung. He looked fatigued and feverish. His hair, the powdering
and arrangement of which was at this time one of the most
important occupations of a man's whole day, and marked his
fashion as much as in the present time the tying of a cravat, or
the want of one, was dishevelled, uncurled, void of powder, and
dank with dew. His clothes were huddled on with a careless
negligence, remarkable in a military man, whose real or supposed
duties are usually held to include some attention to the toilet;
and his looks were haggard and ghastly in a peculiar degree.

"So you have stolen a march upon us this morning, my dear
General," said Lord Woodville; "or you have not found your bed so
much to your mind as I had hoped and you seemed to expect. How
did you rest last night?"

"Oh, excellently well! remarkably well! never better in my
life," said General Browne rapidly, and yet with an air of
embarrassment which was obvious to his friend. He then hastily
swallowed a cup of tea, and neglecting or refusing whatever else
was offered, seemed to fall into a fit of abstraction.

"You will take the gun to-day, General?" said his friend and
host, but had to repeat the question twice ere he received the
abrupt answer, "No, my lord; I am sorry I cannot have the
opportunity of spending another day with your lordship; my post
horses are ordered, and will be here directly."