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At length, inconvenienced in his money affairs, and tired even of the short time which he spent in his own dull house, Sir Philip Forester determined to take a trip to the Continent, in the capacity of a volunteer. It was then common for men of fashion to do so; and our knight perhaps was of opinion that a touch of the military character, just enough to exalt, but not render pedantic, his qualities as a BEAU GARCON, was necessary to maintain possession of the elevated situation which he held in the ranks of fashion.

Sir Philip’s resolution threw his wife into agonies of terror; by which the worthy baronet was so much annoyed, that, contrary to his wont, he took some trouble to soothe her apprehensions, and once more brought her to shed tears, in which sorrow was not altogether unmingled with pleasure. Lady Bothwell asked, as a favour, Sir Philip’s permission to receive her sister and her family into her own house during his absence on the Continent. Sir Philip readily assented to a proposition which saved expense, silenced the foolish people who might have talked of a deserted wife and family, and gratified Lady Bothwell, for whom he felt some respect, as for one who often spoke to him, always with freedom and sometimes with severity, without being deterred either by his raillery or the PRESTIGE of his reputation.

A day or two before Sir Philip’s departure, Lady Bothwell took the liberty of asking him, in her sister’s presence, the direct question, which his timid wife had often desired, but never ventured, to put to him:–

“Pray, Sir Philip, what route do you take when you reach the Continent?”

“I go from Leith to Helvoet by a packet with advices.”

“That I comprehend perfectly,” said Lady Bothwell dryly; “but you do not mean to remain long at Helvoet, I presume, and I should like to know what is your next object.”

“You ask me, my dear lady,” answered Sir Philip, “a question which I have not dared to ask myself. The answer depends on the fate of war. I shall, of course, go to headquarters, wherever they may happen to be for the time; deliver my letters of introduction; learn as much of the noble art of war as may suffice a poor interloping amateur; and then take a glance at the sort of thing of which we read so much in the Gazette.”

“And I trust, Sir Philip,” said Lady Bothwell, “that you will remember that you are a husband and a father; and that, though you think fit to indulge this military fancy, you will not let it hurry you into dangers which it is certainly unnecessary for any save professional persons to encounter.”

“Lady Bothwell does me too much honour,” replied the adventurous knight, “in regarding such a circumstance with the slightest interest. But to soothe your flattering anxiety, I trust your ladyship will recollect that I cannot expose to hazard the venerable and paternal character which you so obligingly recommend to my protection, without putting in some peril an honest fellow, called Philip Forester, with whom I have kept company for thirty years, and with whom, though some folks consider him a coxcomb, I have not the least desire to part.”

“Well, Sir Philip, you are the best judge of your own affairs. I have little right to interfere–you are not my husband.”

“God forbid!” said Sir Philip hastily; instantly adding, however, “God forbid that I should deprive my friend Sir Geoffrey of so inestimable a treasure.”

“But you are my sister’s husband,” replied the lady; “and I suppose you are aware of her present distress of mind–“

“If hearing of nothing else from morning to night can make me aware of it,” said Sir Philip, “I should know something of the matter.”

“I do not pretend to reply to your wit, Sir Philip,” answered Lady Bothwell; “but you must be sensible that all this distress is on account of apprehensions for your personal safety. “