! To be sure, they were chiefly about himself; but what
subject could be so interesting to Cecil? His normal condition of
picturesque insolvency was only a proof of generosity of disposition and
absence of meanness. Now she had nothing but a letter not her own, and
that one last message, "Give my dearest love to Cecil."

Whether or no the vision was really but a dream, we leave to the decision
of our readers. It was not unnatural that the dominant idea should
impress that unreasoning moment between sleeping and waking; but Cecil's
fervent faith knew no doubts, and thus it was that Du Meresq dead
influenced her as much as when living.

They soon heard from Colonel Rolleston. Part of his regiment had been
sent to seek and bring in the wounded; his brother-in-law's body had been
found and brought back by Vavasour, and he sent his wife Bertie's watch.
The newspapers were full of the disastrous but glorious charge of the
cavalry, and of their immense loss.

In Du Meresq's regiment all the senior had been cut off. Had he lived, he
would have been Colonel of it, a position which Lascelles survived to
fill.

There appeared no respite from anxiety for those who had relatives in the
East. Within two months the battles of the Alma, Balaklava, and Inkermann
had been fought. Colonel Rolleston seemed to bear a charmed life; for,
though repeatedly under fire, he had come out unscathed. Many of his
officers were killed, Fane slightly wounded, and Jack Vavasour had
lost an arm.

In the ensuing spring Cecil roused herself. Though all her hopes were
dead, the native energy of her character asserted itself, and rebelled
against utter stagnation. Some letters she had received from the nurses
in the Crimea rekindled her former enthusiasm, and she determined to
execute her original project, and go out to the aid of her suffering
countrymen.

Mrs. Rolleston was now more hopeful, and, far from opposing Cecil's
wishes, cheerfully forwarded them. She looked upon hers as so cruelly
exceptional a lot, that any absorbing occupation capable of distracting
her mind was only too welcome. And so when

Spring
Came forth, her work of gladness to contrive,
With all her reckless birds upon the wing,

Cecil, turning "from all she brought," was far on her way to the East,
and wishing, as she assumed the black serge hospital dress, that she
could as easily transform her internal consciousness as her outward
i