A Love Story, by a Bushman | Page 2

hall, where, reposing on the wide-spreading
antlers of some pristine tenant of the park, gleamed many a piece of
armour that in days of yore had not been worn ingloriously.
The Delmé family was an old Norman one, on whose antiquity a
peerage could have conferred no new lustre. At the period when the
aristocracy of Great Britain lent themselves to their own diminution of
importance, by the prevalent system of rejecting the poorer class of
tenantry, in many instances the most attached,--the consequence was
foreseen by the then proprietor of Delmé Park, who, spurning the
advice of some interested few around him, continued to foster those
whose ancestors had served his. The Delmés were thus enabled to
retain--and they deserved it--that fair homage which rank and property
should ever command. As a family they were popular, and as
individuals universally beloved.
At the period we speak of, the Delmé family consisted but of three
members: the baronet, Sir Henry Delmé; his brother George, some ten
years his junior, a lieutenant in a light infantry regiment at Malta; and
one sister, Emily, Emily Delmé was the youngest child; her mother
dying shortly after her birth. The father, Sir Reginald Delmé, a man of
strong feelings and social habits, never recovered this blow. Henry
Delmé was barely fifteen when he was called to the baronetcy and to
the possession of the Delmé estates. It was found that Sir Reginald had
been more generous than the world had given him credit for, and that
his estates were much encumbered. The trustees were disposed to rest
contented with paying off the strictly legal claims during Sir Henry's
minority. This the young heir would not accede to. He waited on his
most influential guardian--told him he was aware his father, from
hospitality and good nature, had incurred obligations which the law did
not compel his son to pay; but which he could not but think that equity
and good feeling did. He begged that these might be added to the other
claims, and that the trustees would endeavour to procure him a

commission in the army. He was gazetted to a cornetcy; and entered
life at an age when, if the manlier traits are ready to be developed, the
worthless ones are equally sure to unfold themselves. Few of us that
have not found the first draught of life intoxicate! Few of us that have
not then run wild, as colts that have slipped their bridle!
Experience--that mystic word--is wanting; the retrospect of past years
wakes no sigh; expectant youth looks forward to future ones without a
shade of distrust. The mind is elastic--the body vigorous and free from
pain; and it is then youth inwardly feels, although not daring to avow it,
the almost total impossibility that the mind should wax less vigorous,
or the body grow helpless, and decay.
But Sir Henry was cast in a finer mould, nor did his conduct at this
dangerous period detract from this his trait of boyhood. He joined his
regiment when before the enemy, and, until he came of age, never drew
on his guardians for a shilling. Delmé's firmness of purpose, and his
after prudence, met with their due reward. The family estates became
wholly unencumbered, and Sir Henry was enabled to add to the too
scanty provision of his sister, as well as to make up to George, on his
entering the army, a sum more than adequate to all his wants. These
circumstances were enough to endear him to his family; and, in truth,
amidst all its members, there prevailed a confidence and an unanimity
which were never for an instant impaired. There was one consequence,
however, of Sir Henry Delmé's conduct that he, at the least, foresaw not,
but which was gradually and unconsciously developed. In pursuing the
line of duty he had marked out--in acting up to what he knew was
right--his mind became too deeply impressed with the circumstances
which had given rise to his determination. It overstepped its object. The
train of thought, to which necessity gave birth, continued to pervade
when that necessity no longer existed. His wish to re-establish his
house grew into an ardent desire to aggrandize it. His ambition
appeared a legitimate one. It grew with his years, and increased with
his strength.
Many a time, on the lone bivouac, when home presents itself in its
fairest colours to the soldier's mind, would Delmé's prayer be embodied,
that his house might again be elevated, and that his descendants might
know him as the one to whom they were indebted for its rise. Delmé's
ambitious thoughts were created amidst dangers and toil, in a foreign

land, and far from those who shared his name. But his heart swelled
high with them as he again trod his native