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Updated: June 15, 2025
On this, lay the figure of Sir Reginald Delme. On a stone cushion once red supported by figures of angels in the attitude of prayer, veiling their eyes with their wings, reposed the unarmed head of the warrior: his feet uncrossed rested on the image of a dog, crouching on a broken horn, seeming faithfully to gaze at the face of his master.
Delme was in Rome two days; during which period, his depositions, as connected with Santado, were taken down; and he was informed that his presence during the trial would not be insisted on. Delme took that opportunity again to consult his medical friend; who accompanied him to Storta, to visit George; and prescribed a regimen calculated to invigorate the general system.
George Delme sat on the shaft of a broken pillar, his face almost buried in his hands, as he looked around him on a scene once so famous. But with him classic feelings were not upper-most. The widowed heart mourned its loneliness; and in that calm hour found the full relief of tears. The mourner rose, and turned his face homeward, slowly sadly but resignedly.
Sir Henry Delme left England with very unenviable sensations. A cloud seemed to hang over the fate of his brother, which no speculations of his could pierce. Numberless were the conjectures he formed, as to the real causes of George's sickness and mental depression. It was in vain he re-read the letters, and varied his comments on their contents.
"Resign or exchange with credit to yourself!" sullenly observed a stout tall officer of about fifty, whose spleen might well be accounted for in his rank of "Ensign" Delme. "Methinks there can be little credit in exchanging or resigning, when one's companions are left behind, and in a post of danger."
That thought comprised the fervency and timidity the hopes and fears of woman's first love. She thought of her last meeting with Sir Henry Delme: of the objections which might now be removed. A new vista of happiness seemed to open before her. It was but for a moment.
"De Haldimar," said Captain Blessington reprovingly, but mildly, "this immoderate grief is wrong it is unmanly, and should be repressed. I can feel and understand the nature of your sorrow; but others may not judge so favourably. We shall soon be summoned to fall in; and I would not that Mr. Delme, in particular, should notice an emotion he is so incapable of understanding."
Fortunately, Sir Henry was endued with a firm mind, and with nerves of great power of endurance. One morning, at an early hour, Thompson brought in a letter. It was from Emily Delme; and as Sir Henry noted the familiar address, and the broad black edge, which told that the news of his brother's death had reached his sister, he cast it from him with a feeling akin to pain.
He there found his sister spinning round with Clarendon to one of Strauss's waltzes; and Sir Henry and his partner seated themselves on one of the benches, watching the smiling faces as they whirled past them. It was a melancholy thought to Delme, how soon Emily's brow would be clouded, were he to breathe one word of George's illness and despondency.
He has desired me to brush his cloak, as he intends going out. Shall I do so, Sir, or not?" "Do so!" said Delme, "but fail not to inform me when he is about to go; and be yourself in readiness. We will watch him." The Charnel House.
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