scene of his mission;
discussed the preparations he would have to make at Denga, the coast
town, before starting on his five weeks' journey to the interior; drew
the native porter and the native soldier, not to their advantage, and
let fall, by the way, not a few wise or vivacious remarks as to the
races, resources, and future of this illimitable and mysterious
Africa--this cavern of the unknown, into which the waves of white
invasion, one upon another, were now pressing fast and ceaselessly,
towards what goal, only the gods knew.

A few other men were dining; among them two officers from the staff of
the Commander-in-Chief. Warkworth, much their junior, treated them with
a skilful deference; but through the talk that prevailed his military
competence and prestige appeared plainly enough, even to the women. His
good opinion of himself was indeed sufficiently evident; but there was
no crude vainglory. At any rate, it was a vainglory of youth, ability,
and good looks, ratified by these budding honors thus fresh upon him,
and no one took it amiss.

When the gentlemen returned to the drawing-room, Warkworth and Julie
once more found themselves together, this time in the Duchess's little
sitting-room at the end of the long suite of rooms.

"When do you go?" she asked him, abruptly.

"Not for about a month." He mentioned the causes of delay.

"That will bring you very late--into the worst of the heat?" Her voice
had a note of anxiety.

"Oh, we shall all be seasoned men. And after the first few days we shall
get into the uplands."

"What do your home people say?" she asked him, rather shyly. She knew,
in truth, little about them.

"My mother? Oh, she will be greatly pleased. I go down to the Isle of
Wight for a day or two to see her to-morrow. But now, dear lady, that is
enough of my wretched self. You--do you stay on here with the Duchess?"

She told him of the house in Heribert Street. He listened with
attention.

"Nothing could be better. You will have a most distinguished little
setting of your own, and Lady Henry will repent at leisure. You won't
be lonely?"

"Oh no!" But her smile was linked with a sigh.

He came nearer to her.

"You should never be lonely if I could help it," he said, in a low
voice.

"When people are nameless and kinless," was her passionate reply, in the
same undertone as his, "they must be lonely."

He looked at her with eagerness. She lay back in the firelight, her
beautiful bro