Mohun remained in the Austrian service some time after Caroline
Mannering's death, and, by dint of good service and interest, rose
rapidly; but, about eight years before I saw him, a distant relation
left him the estate in the west of Ireland, where he had resided ever
since, making occasional visits to the Continent, and beating up his old
quarters, but rarely coming to England.
He did not mix much with the county society, such as it was; and his
visitors were chiefly friends from England who had not forgotten him
yet, or the military quartered in his neighborhood.
It was a dreary, desolate old house where he lived--massive, square, and
gray. There were wooded banks and hollows just round it; but farther
afield the chill, bare moorland stretched away toward the sea, broken
here and there by sullen sedgy tarns.
Here he spent his monotonous existence, riding hard and drinking
obstinately, but never, even in the latter case, rising into
conviviality. A long, bushy beard, and portentous mustache, grizzled,
though he was scarcely past middle age, which could not conceal a deep
sabre-scar, gave him a grim, sinister expression; and his voice had that
brief imperious accent which is peculiar to men for many years used to
give the word of command.
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