these hours of transition, Delafield thought much of Julie.
Julie, on the other hand, had no sooner said good-night to him after the
conversation described in the last chapter than she drove him from her
thoughts--one might have said, with vehemence.

* * * * *

The _Times_ of the following morning duly contained the announcement of
the appointment of Captain Warkworth, D.S.O., of the Queen's Grays, to
the command of the military mission to Mokembe recently determined on by
her Majesty's government. The mission would proceed to Mokembe as soon
as possible, but of two officers who on the ground of especial knowledge
would form part of it, under Captain Warkworth's command, one was at
present in Canada and the other at the Cape. It would, therefore, hardly
be possible for the mission to start from the coast for the interior
before the beginning of May. In the same paper certain promotions and
distinctions on account of the recent Mahsud campaign were reprinted
from the _Gazette_. Captain Henry Warkworth's brevet majority was
among them.

The _Times_ leader on the announcement pointed out that the mission
would be concerned with important frontier questions, still more with
the revival of the prestige of England in regions where a supine
government had allowed it to wither unaccountably. Other powers had been
playing a filching and encroaching game at the expense of the British
lion in these parts, and it was more than time that he should open his
sleepy eyes upon what was going on. As to the young officer who was to
command the mission, the great journal made a few civil though guarded
remarks. His record in the recent campaign was indeed highly
distinguished; still it could hardly be said that, take it as a whole,
his history so far gave him a claim to promotion so important as that
which he had now obtained.

Well, now he had his chance. English soldiers had a way of profiting by
such chances. The _Times_ courteously gave him the benefit of the doubt,
prophesying that he would rise to the occasion and justify the choice of
his superiors.

The Duchess looked over Julie's shoulder as she read.

"Schemer," she said, as she dropped a kiss on the back of Julie's neck,
"I hope you're satisfied. The _Times_ doesn't know what to make of it."

Julie put down the paper with a glowing cheek.

"They'll soon know," she said, quietly.

"Julie, do you believe in him so much?"

"What does it