disparagement, upon occasion, of such substitute for it as Edinburgh could afford, she nevertheless availed herself to the utmost of the advantages which her Scotch parentage and noble extraction gave her, for access to the "superior circles" of Auld Reekie. Her niece must, of necessity, often accompany her to public or private entertainments; and at one of the former made acquaintance with an ensign of a Highland regiment quartered in the Castle. Mr. Grant was not meanly gifted by nature in mind or body, and personally was not undeserving of any young lady's regard. What drew Elsie towards him, strongly and specially, from the very first, was the circumstance that he was from Aberdeen, and knew some of her mother's friends, one which, by some instinct, she never mentioned to her aunt. But that keen-witted lady did not need the additional reason which such knowledge might have afforded, for discouraging, as soon as she perceived it, the growing intimacy between Elsie and Mr. Grant. She ascertained that he had committed the rash act of entering the British army without any farther qualifications than high courage, fair talents, and an earnest admiration for a soldier's career. He had little more money than sufficed for the purchase of his first commission, and was entirely without family interest of any kind or degree. Now, the Honourable Mrs. Gillespie knew enough of the War Office, as of other offices, in those good old unreformed times, to perceive at once how high the young ensign was likely to reach in the military hierarchy; and she determined, neither unkindly nor unwisely, to put him at once upon his honour with Elsie. Mr. Grant, therefore, waited on her, at her own request, to receive "an intimation upon an important matter."

"Would you make a baggage-waggon wife of the puir lassie, Mr. Grant? I'm tauld it's but a weary way of life," she said, reverting, as she always did, when moved, to the old pronunciation. "Ah, but I hope, dear madam" "Weel, young gentleman, bide till your hopes are hatched a bit."

That was fair and forcible he could not deny. Poor lad. They were addled in one way before hatched in another.

No word had passed between him and Elsie, so he applied first for leave, then for exchange into a regiment on active service abroad. Years went by. He had gotten a wound and a medal; three varieties of fever; two of ague; much commendation as an active and efficient officer; frequent sciatica; and very grizzled hair. He was moreover, Lieutenant, without purchase, in a company commanded by a puppy having less then onethird of his own time of service, when news came that Elsic M'Cauldie was an orphan again: for both her uncle and her aunt were dead. The regiment was, happily, no farther off than Ireland, otherwise his purse might not have allowed of the journey to Edinburgh.

The bloom was off her beauty certainly; but that assurance of lovingkindness which Ned Locksley could read on it some years later kept a wondrous loveliness on every feature. And the poor lieutenant read a special love-look through the lovingkindness which smiled on all. Elsie was glad to see him-almost delighted

spite of what she must have thought his long and fickle desertion of her.

"Your aunt said, Miss M'Cauldie, that a baggage-waggon wife would have but a weary life of it, and with that word warned me off. For your sake I took the warning, hoping and striving through bitter years to win some other thing to offer you. I have no more now than I had then: less, for I was then young and hopeful. But you are lonely, and I have brought you back one thing increased—a luckless soldier's love."

Elsie thought it wealth, and took the treasure for better or worse. The few pounds her father had left her were but little increased by a legacy from her aunt. Lieutenant Grant applied for a paymastership by which to add a few pounds to his annual pay. He was actually appointed on the sole score of his character; and a brevet on a birthday made him Captain. What can the vulgar outcry mean about deserving officers overlooked in our army?

Ned's new little acquaintance, Amy, was, as she had told him, her parents' only child, born and bred, as her dolls demonstrated, at a time when the stations of her father's regiment had been shifting with more than usual

rapidity. Having once visited the Paymaster's quarters, and having done so, thanks to Miss Amy, in the character of a house-friend, Ned often found his way there again; most of his evenings being spent either with the Grants or with his first friends, the Andersons.

Personally, therefore, he was not much affected by the evening amusements of his comrades in barracks, nor disturbed by the "skylarking," of which he heard either in O'Brien's rollicking brogue, or in the Major's wrathful murmuring against "unseemly practical jokes." Captain Rufford, indeed, by way of daring his dependent, Jones, had suggested to that officer-since Mansfield had been dipped in a solution of liquid blacking and water, and Garrett had an eyebrow shaved, his dress-boots filled with the contents of a mustard pot --that it was hardly fair to let the third "griff" off unscathed. But Jones fought shy of the suggestion, alleging Ned's intimacy with the Major, who'll make the confoundedest kick-up about conduct unbecoming a gentleman and an officer, if there's a scrimmage with his friend Locksley."

66

In truth, Ned was known to share his senior's aversion to the noble sport of "badger-baiting," and looked him as if his teeth, albeit unofficial, might meet through where they bit, as well as the Major's. He, therefore, enjoyed immunity from annoyance, until the arrival of a fourth youngster, who had been prevented by illness from joining on the same day as himself and the other two. This Milward was a lad of gentlemanly appearance; of well-proportioned, but very slender frame; of handsome, but very delicate features; with a mouth which might have been reckoned pretty in a girl, but betrayed in one of the ruder sex symptoms of weakness and irresolution. He showed the same distaste as Ned for stupid and noisy rioting; but with a shrinking very different from the masterful bearing of the self-possessed Etonian. The latter, who had left the mess early one evening, was at work some hours later over his Hindustani, when he heard a light, quick step run along the passage, and a hurried, hesitating knock against his door.

lot's?"

"Yes."

"Well, that romping is bad enough when O'Brien and his set are at it; but they do it for fun. As for that brute, Rufford, and that fool, Jones, they are unbearable. I'm glad you came in here. I'll give them a lesson if they follow you.'

"It's very kind of you," said Milward. "I was ashamed of bolting in, because I know you hate this kind of thing."

"I do; but I wasn't eight years at Eton without being equal to this emergency, mind you, Master Milward. Ain't they whitewashing the corridor up here?"

“

Hardly whitewashing. It's a dirty yellow ochre in the pots outside."

"All the better. Just pick the stoutest sticks out of the faggot in my coal-bunk, will you, and look in the right-hand corner of the cupboard below for a coil of rope there is, I think. I'll be back in a second."

In he came again accordingly, with two big pots of the dismal ochre wash.

66

What on earth are you at?" asked Milward.

"You'll see time enough. But be quick: I heard them banging open your door downstairs as I went out."

Ned produced a hammer and a few stout nails out of the miscellaneous stores of his cupboard. Then mounting on a chair he nailed three or four stout sticks at right angles to the lintel. They made a sort of projecting platform, to the edge of which he fastened a length of rope nailed at one end to the woodwork of the door. Then he poised the pots upon the sticks so nicely that the door in opening must jerk the rope's end, and an avalanche fall.

"Seen Milward anywhere?" inquired the voice of Jones.

"Oh dear, yes! He's in here. We're having tea and muffins," quoth Ned, in modulated tones.

Jones was at a nonplus. He had suggested that Milward might have taken refuge in some other officer's quarters; but had not reckoned upon finding him with Locksley.

There was a noisy deliberation outside, then another knock, and a more decided voice than the lieutenant's, cried, insolently,

"None of your nonsense, youngster, come out!"

"Who, I?" said Ned, blandly still. "No! that milksop of a Milward, quick now!"

"Not till we've done the muffins," quoth Ned in reply.

The answer came in a savage kick, which made the colour pots tremble; but could not dislodge them, so crafty was their adjustment.

Ned took no notice. A second kick followed, and a rush against the door.

"You had better not, gentlemen, for your own sake," cried Ned, with perfect good-humour; "I can't abear being disturbed at tea."

There was laughter outside, apparently at the baffled assailant, whose wrath, waxing hotter, vented itself in another kick, which almost upset the pots, and loosened the treacherous staple alarmingly.

"Pray don't, sir; you'll disturb your digestion by such strong exercise after meals.'

Crash went the staple. In rushed Rufford. Smash went the pots upon his head; and his best uniform-they had dined in full-dress that eveningwas dripping and done for.

"There! My best milk-jug broke!" said Ned. "Beg pardon, gentlemen, you may pick up the bits outside."

With one vigorous shove, he sent

the Captain reeling into the passage, followed by a volley of potsherds. He slammed, and double-locked the door.

Rufford was furious; but the laugh was loud against him, not only among the strangers, well soaked with claret, but even among his own admiring jackals. He put the best face upon the matter that he could, and beat a hasty retreat to change his drenched regimentals before seeking consolation in cards and broiled bones. Thenceforward he watched, with not unnatural eagerness, for some opportunity of turning the tables upon his antagonist: but came to the sullen, though sound, conclusion, that he was, in most things, more than a match for himself. He changed his tactics; took no notice of Ned; but instead of attempting to bully young Milward any more, treated him with studied politeness and cordiality, paying him many little attentions, which began insensibly to win the weak lad's confidence.

Jones, as usual, took his cue from the Captain; and pasty-faced Mansfield, the "griff" with a turn for cards, took his from Jones. Milward soon began to fancy that he could do no better than conquer his first prejudices, rub off his home fastidiousness, and prove his manhood by conforming to the customs of such kind comrades. This somewhat nettled Ned; but, absorbed in his sorrows and his studies, he could not afford the matter more than a passing thought upon occasion.

These studies he cherished no less as a present solace than as a preparation for the future, and found in them escape from thoughts and feelings which the mechanical duties of the drill-ground left active still. Though not popular with comrades of his own age and standing, from whom he kept, in some respects, aloof, his good sense, his good-humour, and his proficiency in all manly exercises, fruit of his double training on Cransdale Moors and in the playing-fields at Eton, kept him from the invidiousness of actual unpopularity. His chiefs formed from the first the highest opinion of him and the Major had already caused his name to reach the superior autho rities, as that of a young officer of extraordinary promise. For some chance reason, the stay of his batch at the Chatterham depôt was unusually pro

longed; but the time at last came in view when they must proceed to their distant destination. Messrs. Rufford and Jones, who had early intimation of the fact, felt, that if profit was to be made out of any of them, it must be made without farther delay. The design upon Garrett had been abandoned. He really was too stupid to learn play, too little spirited to play without learning. Milward gave better hopes; weak enough to be led, he was quick enough to learn, and conceited enough to be coaxed or carried beyond his depth. The worthy pair found Mansfield an admirable, though unconscious, assistant in their design. He had a very tolerable taste for gambling, with not much more acquired knowledge of play than Milward's superior wit soon enabled him to gain; and he being pitted against Mansfield, nothing loath, learned confidence in his own skill and judgment.

So they fooled him on; sometimes in fair duel, so to speak, sometimes in square games, where the presence of a confederate, as partner on either side, made the direction of matters both easy and unsuspicious. Rufford had poor luck at play, and was subject, though he handled his cards well upon the whole, to unaccountable inadvertencies, which would sweep off in a turn the previous gains of steady skill and equable fortune. Milward was sharp enough, as he thought, to take special note of this; and having had some unexpected minor successes to whet his appetite, determined on a regular set-to with the Captain. To beat the man who had bullied him at first, and then had come round and acknowledged his social and manly qualities, would he greater glory than even gain. Jones made some apparent attempt to dissuade him from this rash pur

pose.

"Old Rufford knew a thing or two. When put upon his mettle, he was an ugly customer. In fact, he shouldn't himself half like a stand-up fight with him-if it wasn't, that's to say, for those absent fits of his, which made such 'mulls' of his play now and then."

"Ah, but that's the very thing, you see, Jones. I own I am an inferior player, in some respects, to Rufford;

but I have a considerable power of concentration:" said the silly lad, drawing his lips tighter across his teeth, as if with instinctive consciousness of the feeble point of his handsome countenance.

attention

"Yes, you command your better than Rufford, I think," answered the other; "which is strange enough, seeing what an old hand he is."

"I'll tell you what, Jones, it's all bosh about not getting old heads on young shoulders. Some youngsters are born with young heads on; but others with old ones all along; don't you see, eh?"

Jones did see, very plain.

At the bottom of the long messroom, at the Company's barracks, Chatterham, were two little sittingrooms, right and left. One was in general use as a smoking-room, the other, comfortably furnished, was but seldom used, except as a kind of drawing-room, when there were many seniors, or distinguished visitors,' at the depôt mess. Rufford and Jones had weighed very deliberately the arguments for or against making this room the scene of the gambling tournament.

"It was one of the scaliest points about young Archer's affair, Jones, that Plumer of 'the Dashers,' held the party in his own rooms. Floods of bosh were poured out upon it. We can't afford ugly circumstances' so soon after. Now, the little room to the left is public, though private to all intents and purposes, for there's not a fellow goes in there once in three months.'

"No, that there isn't," said Jones; "and its fusty enough in consequence."

"Never mind that, my boy; we can leave the door open to air the atmosphere, which will look fair, and above board, you know, in case of impertinent inquiries. The odds are any thing to one' against any fellow lounging in, as we shan't play till very late, eh?"

"All right then. Its a judicious idea enough."

Next morning, Ned, who by chance had got up unusually early, took it into his head to breakfast before, instead of after parade. To the discomfiture of the messman, he en

sconced himself in the uppermost corner of the long room, demanding coffee and poached eggs at an abnormal hour. Before these were ready, the old Major looked in.

"Oh, there you are! You are early this morning. Here's the book I promised you. I keep up my old Indian habits, a canter before early parade; so I'm off round the Long Meadows. Look in to-night, will you ; the Grants are coming?"

The book was a relief, spite of the crabbed Oriental character. Ned kept on deciphering it to while away the time, with occasional interruptions, to shout at the dawdling messman.

Breakfast was so long in coming, that the second cup of coffee was but just poured out, when the bugle parade-call rang in the barrack-square. Up jumped Ned. Where should he put the Major's book? The little sitting room was a safe place; so he opened the door, went in, and placed it on a stand in the corner by the mantelpiece.

Parade was dismissed, when a young engineer officer cried out:

Locksley, didn't you say you should like to see the 'flying sap' to-day? There's a party going down to the lines with Dickson. They marched half an hour ago; but I have a trap outside, and I'll drive you down, if you've had your breakfast."

"Well, I have had half of it, or thereabouts. All right; I shall be glad of a lift."

And the young men drove off together.

The Sappers and Miners had a tent on the ground. And there was lunch, in due time, at some interval in action. Then when the serious work was over, as men and officers were still full of "go," a couple of "scratch elevens" were got up, and Ned must needs play. "Too late for mess," was the word when dinnertime was come; but as the lunchcommissariat had been liberal, a fair enough ration was fidgeted out all round. When they got back to barracks he had only just time to dress and run down to the Major's. It was past eleven o'clock before he left. The Andersons and he walked home with the Grants, as the night was very fine. Twelve struck by the town clock some time before he reached

the barracks. As he passed the sentry, he bethought him of his book.

I'm not on duty to-morrow morning, and shall have time for a grind.” So he went up to the mess-room in search of it. In the antechamber he asked a sleepy-looking waiter for a flat candlestick, saying that he was going into the left-hand sitting-room for a book, left there that morning.

"Then you won't want no light, sir," said the servant, "there's several officers as is in that little room to-night, sir."

Before he was half-way up the long room itself, his ear caught a burst of exultation from Milward's voice, noisier but seemingly somewhat thicker also than usual.

"By George! who'd a thought it? That's the fourth game I've beaten you, Captain. I should think you were most sick of it by this time."

"Fortune of war!" said Rufford, in answer, quietly. "Turn and turn about, you know."

"Ha! ha! yes! but your turn seems longish a coming," cried Milward. "Jones, my boy, give us a glass of champagne to toast our luck, eh? No, confound it, none of those longnecked apologies for a wine-glass. Give it us in a tumbler, man; can't you? I'm thirsty. Here, Rufford, here's better luck to ye!"

"Don't drink now, Milward; don't, if you'll take my advice," answered Rufford. "I never do when at play. Keep your head cool, for I mean to cut out your work yet for you. I must have my revenge."

Ned, who by this time was in the room, noted the Captain's look and tone at these last words, with misgiving. He had a half a mind to stay and see that Milward, with all his folly, got fair play. Second thoughts told him there would be little use in that, as he couldn't do much more than tell an ace from a knave on the cards himself. He went therefore to the corner to take his book. As he turned his hack to do so, he thought, and yet could not make sure of it, that he heard an ominous whisper,

What brings the Major's jackal poking his nose in here, eh?"

This turned him again. He determined to stay.

"Any objection to one's looking on a bit?" he asked of Jones.