to you I'd give them all, and
all their rewards twice told, for this proof of affection; and the dear
girls, and Florence--how is she?"

"Far better than when you saw her. Indeed, I should say perfectly
restored to health. She walks long walks, and takes rides on a mountain
pony, and looks like one who had never known illness."

"Not married yet?" said he with a faint smile.

"No; he is coming back next month and they will probably be married
before Christmas."

"And as much in love as ever--he, I mean?"

"Fully; and she too."

"Pshaw! She never cared for him; she never could care for him. She tried
it--did her very utmost I saw the struggle, and I saw its failure, and I
told her so?"

"You told her so!"

"Why not? It was well for the poor girl that one human being in all the
world should understand and feel for her. And she is determined to marry
him?"

"Yes; he is coming back solely with that object."

"How was it that none of his letters spoke of me? Are you quite sure
they did not?"

"I am perfectly sure, for she always gave them to me to read."

"Well!" cried he, boldly, as he stood up, and threw his head haughtily
back, "the fellow who led Calvert's Horse--that was the name my
irregulars were known by--might have won distinction enough to be quoted
by a petty Bengal civil servant. The Queen will possibly make amends for
this gentleman's forgetfulness."

"You were in all this dreadful campaign, then?" asked she eagerly.

"Through the whole of it. Held an independent command; got four times
wounded: this was the last." And he laid bare a fearful cicatrice that
almost surrounded his right arm above the wrist.

"Refused the Bath."

"Refused it?"

"Why not? What object is it to me to be Sir Harry? Besides, a man who
holds opinions such as mine, should accept no court favours. Colonel
Calvert is a sufficient title."

"And you are a colonel already?"

"I was a major-general a month ago--local rank, of course. But why am I
led to talk of these things? May I see the girls? Will they like to see
me?"

"For that I can answer. But are your minutes not counted? These
despatches?"

"I have thought of all that This sword-cut has left it terrible 'tic'
behind it, and travelling disposes to it, so that I have telegraphed for
leave to send my despatches forward by Hassan, my Persian fellow,
and rest myself here for a day or two. I know you'll not let me die
un-watched, uncared for. I have not forgotte