ngs that mattered.--I guess there's something wrong about your
army, if a man's got to have a fortune before he can be an officer!"

"A good many people are with you there, Miss Briskett, but unfortunately
that does not alter the fact."

"Then--what did you do after that?"

"Cleared out! I sold my uniform for eighty pounds!"--he laughed again,
the same sore laugh--"and gave my orderly about a dozen suits of
ordinary clothes. The only thing I kept was my sword. I had ten swords
hung on my walls, used by ten generations in succession--I couldn't give
that up. ... An old chum was going out ranching to the wildest part of
California. He asked me to come with him, and I jumped at it. I wanted
to get out of the country--away from it all. If I'd seen the regiment
riding through the streets, I should have gone mad! ... We sailed
within a few weeks..."

"_California_!" Cornelia's face was eloquent with meaning. She had
seen a regiment of Lancers riding through the streets of London on the
one day which she had spent in the metropolis; had stood to stare open-
mouthed, even as the crowd who thronged the pavement. She recalled the
figure of the officer, a gorgeous, mediaeval knight, impenetrably
lifeless, sitting astride his high horse like a figure of bronze; a
glimpse of haughty, set features visible between cap and chin-strap.
Outwardly immovable, indifferent; but within!--ah! within, beyond a
doubt, a swelling pride in himself, in his men, in the noble animals
which bore them; in the consciousness that every day the pageant
attracted the same meed of admiration; pride in the consciousness that
he represented his King, his Empire, the power of the sword! Cornelia,
a stranger and a Republican, had thrilled at the sight of the gallant
Lancers, and--she had visited the wilds of California also, and had
received hospitality at a lonely ranch! There was a husky note in her
voice as she spoke again.

"How long were you there?"

"Three years."

"Did you--hate it very much?"

The laugh this time was more strangled than before.

"Twice over I came within an inch of shooting myself! We were twenty
miles from the nearest neighbour. My friend went his way; I went mine.
For days together we hardly exchanged a word. There was nothing but the
great stretch of land, and the Rockies in the distance. In time one
gets to think them beautiful, but at first... I used to sit and think
of home, and the regiment. It was _