lton made his way to the
drawing room. His adieu to Mrs. Fraudhurst was courteous and polite, but
there was no exhibition of kindly feeling or sympathy evinced by either.

Now, although Arthur and Edith in their long rides together had
canvassed over the subject of his departure repeatedly, and the great
benefit he was likely to derive therefrom till they had quite accustomed
themselves to the idea, yet, when the moment arrived, a deep feeling of
regret visibly agitated them both, a feeling which they had never before
experienced, and which there was now no time to analyze. The unbidden
tear rose to Edith's eye as he clasped her hand within his own, and
unable to control himself any longer, he gently drew her towards him and
imprinted a loving kiss on her rosy lips. The next instant he was gone.
No word of love had ever been spoken between them, and this was the
first time that their lips had ever met. At that moment Mrs. Fraudhurst
had looked up from her embroidery, but not in their direction; she was
too discreet for that, her glance rested on one of the large mirrors at
the opposite end of the room, wherein was reflected the full length
figures of the two young friends. The salute did not escape her notice,
nor did she fail to mark that the deep crimson blush that diffused
itself over Edith's beautiful features certainly was not one of
displeasure.

"Gone, but not a moment too soon," she muttered half aloud. Then turning
to address a few words to Edith found that she also had left the
apartment; gone, doubtless, to seek the privacy of her own chamber.

On reaching Calcutta, the young Cornet presented himself at the
hospitable Bungalow of the Bartons, and was by them cordially received.
The pretty little Mrs. Barton and Arthur had not previously met, he
being at College when she had paid her wedding visit to Devonshire, but
nevertheless, she was much pleased to have so handsome a cavalier, to
occupy a seat in her barouche while driving along the Chowringee road or
cantering by her side across the Esplanade or round and round the stand
while listening to the delightful music of the band, as was their usual
custom of an evening.

Good, easy Horace Barton had got over that sort of thing, for after
returning from the Suddur Aydowlett, he would seek the quiet of his
sanctum sanctorum, and with his Hooka and iced Sherbet, would regale
himself until the dressing bell rang for dinner, after which he would
entertain Arthur