-one other word"----

"Don't call me Edith, sir! This continued importunity is insufferable!
If you have any explanation to make, you must select a fitter time," and
the sliding-panel was instantly closed.

"Ye've cotohed it ony hoo!" said the shrimp, with a malignant leer.
"Wauken up, Bauldy, my man, and let's see how cleverly ye'll gae through
them!"

A few words of explanation satisfied our commanding-officer, and the
victorious machine rolled insultingly through the lines. I have not
spirits to narrate the further proceedings of that day. My heart was not
in the squadron; and my eyes, even when ordered to be directed to the
left, were stealthily turned in the other direction towards two distant
figures in bathing-gowns, sedulously attempting to drown one another in
fun. Shortly afterwards we dispersed, and returned to Edinburgh. I
attempted a visit of explanation, but Miss Bogle was not at home.

I messed that evening for the first time with the squadron. Judging from
the laughter which arose on all sides, it was a merry party; but my
heart was heavy, and I could hardly bring myself to enter cordially into
the festivities. I was also rather uneasy in person, as will happen to
young cavalry soldiers. I drank, however, a good deal of wine, and, as I
was afterwards informed, recovered amazingly towards the close of the
sederunt. They also told me, next morning, that I had entered Masaniello
to run for the Squadron Cup.

CHAPTER IV.

"And so you really forgive me, Edith!" said I, bending over the lady of
my love, as she sate creating worsted roses in a parterre of gossamer
canvass: "You are not angry at what happened the other day at that
unlucky encounter on the sands?"

"Have I not said already that I forgive you?" replied Edith. "Is it
necessary that I should assure you twice?"

"Charming Miss Bogle! you do not know how happy you have made me."

"Pray, don't lean over me so, or you'll make me spoil my work. See--I
have absolutely put something like a caterpillar into the heart of this
rosebud!"

"Never, dearest Edith, may any caterpillar prey upon the rosebud of your
happiness. How curious! Do you know, the outline of that sketch reminds
me forcibly of the countenance of Roper?"

"Mr M'Whirter!"

"Nay, I was merely jesting. Pray, Miss Bogle, what are your favourite
colours?"

"Peach-blossom and scarlet; but why do you ask?"

"Do not press me for an explanation--it will come early enough. And now,