dangers innumerable surround me to shake my energies and frustrate my resolutions, no plausible reason left me to indulge in hope, I have nothing left but to make use of arms, to submit to their sanguinary strife, to await the struggle anticipated, the issue of the engagement likely to take place between us and the native chiefs—a convulsive shock it will be, no doubt,—when I will serve the British cause to the last drop in my veins. Harcourt in that day shall become renowned as a warrior, but it shall be the last of his fame!"
Such was Harcourt—warm, inflammable, ever transported by the extremes of enthusiasm.
Douglas having, in his devoted attachment to Rosilia, experienced equal sorrow and hope, fear and trial, as Harcourt,—in his contemplation, lost in the painful retrospect of the past, as connected with himself, and at the same time responding with heartfelt sympathy to the strong emotions he witnessed in his friend, he found it no easy task to calm and collect his thoughts: yet as he was now placed beyond the possibility of rivalship, he at last summoned sufficient firmness to his aid, and made use of every argument sincere friendship could dictate towards reducing the feelings of Harcourt to moderation, when they parted.
