news from the war? Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing wrong," said her uncle reassuringly; "I brought you this paper
to see. It reports that there has been an encounter with the Afghans
near Kandahar, with complete success on the British side and
comparatively trifling loss. Particulars are expected almost
immediately. I telegraphed to town to get the earliest possible
details. Meanwhile, Raby, don't alarm yourself unduly."

"I won't, uncle; but where exactly was the battle?"

"You will see the names mentioned in the telegram. Jeffreys can show
you the exact spot in the atlas; we were looking at it the other
evening."

Jeffreys thankfully accepted the task. He and Raby spent an hour over
the map, talking of the absent soldier, and trying, the one to conceal,
the other to allay, the anxiety which the incomplete telegram had
aroused.

At the end of the hour Scarfe walked into the library. His face
darkened as he saw the two who sat there.

"Miss Atherton," said he, looking not at her, but at Jeffreys, "have you
forgotten we were to have a ride this morning?"

"I am so sorry, Mr Scarfe, but I have a headache, and don't feel as if
I could ride to-day. You will excuse me, won't you?"

"Oh, certainly," replied Scarfe; "don't you think a turn in the park
will do you good? May I have the pleasure of escorting you?"

Raby said, "Thank you." She was very sorry to disappoint any one, and
had no valid excuse against a walk.

"Miss Atherton," said Scarfe, when they had gone some distance, chatting
on indifferent topics, "I am anxious just to say a word to you, not in
my own interest at all, but your own. Will you forgive me if I do?"

"What is it?" said Raby, mystified.

"I wish to put you on your guard against Jeffreys, who, I see, presumes
on his position here to annoy you. You may not perhaps know, Miss
Atherton, that not two years ago--"

"Excuse me, Mr Scarfe," said Raby quietly, stopping in her walk, "I
hate talking of people behind their backs. Mr Jeffreys has never
annoyed me; he has been kind to me. Shall we talk of something else?"

"Certainly," said Scarfe, startled at her decided tone. He had laid his
plan for a little revelation, and it disconcerted him to see it knocked
on the head like this.

However, just then he was not in the humour for making himself obnoxious
to Miss Atherton, of whom, being a susceptible youth, he was decidedly
enamoured. It was a deprivation, certainly, to find his