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cigar, strolled across the park to visit his guards, wandering afterwards about the lawn on his side of the house. He would fain have carried his steps to the other side, when perchance some light might indicate at a distance the shrine which guarded his mistress; but although the watchman and some of the numerous servants of the household had passed that way on their various errands, and he knew therefore that her chamber must be closed, a sense of delicacy restrained him. But at last, tired out with walking, he sought his room, stumbling over his bearer asleep in the veranda, and fell asleep himself while recalling the minutes that had been passed, the voice, the gestures, the words of his beloved.

Next morning, his late hours of the previous night notwithstanding, Yorke was up with the first grey light of dawn, although not sooner than the Commissioner, who was a regular old Indian as regards early rising; but it was with a pang of disappointment that he found only one riding-horse besides Devotion was standing saddled under the portico. Selim was not there. His daughter, Mr. Cunningham said, was not going to ride that morning, but would have some tea ready for them when they returned; and accordingly, they rode through the city, which Yorke had never seen before, and where he had the opportunity of contrasting the deferential salaams accorded to the great man on his way through the streets, with the air of insolent curiosity with which any unknown subaltern performing the journey alone would be regarded. The Commissioner had various duties in the town-a new tank in course of excavation to visit, the widening of a new street in progress, the scene of a late robbery to examine, and so forth-and the sun had mounted

high before they returned to the Residency, when, as they entered the park, Yorke's quick eye discovered Miss Cunningham sitting by a tea equipage under the shade of an awning spread by some trees on the western side, whither directing their horses they dismounted. Limited though was his visiting acquaintance, Yorke had often noticed that the Indian habit of a second toilet tended somewhat to impair the early appearance of such of the fair sex as took exercise in the morning. Ladies who came out at mid-day or evening in elaborate costumes, and with hair carefully dressed, would sometimes dispense with these feminine graces when attiring themselves for the early ride or drive, and would appear with careless, not to say dishevelled locks, and appearance generally suggestive of repairs needful to be effected afterwards. No such remissness could be detected in the young lady who now, after morning greetings, began to pour out the tea.

Her rich brown hair, though folded in simple braids, was fit, the young man thought, to grace a coronation; the light morning robe was crisp and fresh; in each aspect, he thought, she seemed more noblelooking, more delicate, and more refined. And, see, facing him across the lawn as he sits down, is the shrine from which his goddess has issued. The wide doors in the west veranda thrown open to catch the morning air reveal some mysteries of a chamber within-the dressingglass trimmed with dainty muslin and ribbons, the wardrobe where rest the garments which have the happy duty of enshrining their sweet mistress.

Soon the little party was joined by another horseman, Dr. Mackenzie Maxwell, the civil surgeon, who lived about half a mile from the Residency, and had charge of the jail, the hospital, and the Residency

establishments-a benevolent-looking, middle-aged man. Yorke had scarcely ever met him before, for Dr. Maxwell lived very much by himself, and had almost forgotten his existence as a member of the Residency circle; and for a moment, on observing the warm greeting accorded to the new-comer, he was disposed to feel jealous, when he remembered having heard that Maxwell was a widower; but this feeling was soon allayed on perceiving the sort of fatherly way in which the doctor addressed his hostess, and the absence of embarrassment between the two. Soon the doctor and the Commissioner rose and strolled into the garden, leaving Miss Cunningham and Yorke alone. But although the latter, fully impressed with the importance of the occasion, was in an agony of suspense as the brief moments flew by, he could not manage to rise in his conversation beyond the level of commonplace; and when the others returned he had only the consolation of there being still a long day before him, during which the Commissioner must be absent in court, and then, perhaps, a word or hint, or even some glance exchanged, might tell him that his case was understood, and not hopeless, and embolden him to pour out his tale of love.

"I have been telling the Commissioner," said the doctor, addressing that gentleman's daughter, "that I think your plan a very good one. What he wants just now is a little rest and change. I daresay a month at Patánpoor may do all that is needed; at any rate it will be time to think of a season in the hills if this little trip fails to set him up. On what day do you think of going away?"

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Cunningham, with a little blush, explained that they were thinking of paying Colonel Falkland a visit for three or four weeks before the hot weather set in. Her father had been out of sorts for some time, but they hoped this change and the holiday might be sufficient to set him to rights again, and prevent the necessity for taking leave to the hills. "Papa dreads the idea of spending a whole hot season away from his beloved cutchery. You know he has never been to the hills all his life."

"Yes," broke in her father, "and I hope I never shall go; a season of Simla lounging would finish me off, I believe, if I went up ill in the first instance."

"And you?" said Yorke, turning to his daughter,-"what are your feelings in the matter? But I need not ask," he added, with a shade of bitterness in his voice. "Of course you must want to go. Simla is the gayest place in India." And the subaltern's heart sank within him as he pictured to himself for the moment its beautiful mistress treading the round of mountain dissipation, surrounded by all the male butterflies who flutter about that favourite resort.

"Of course I should like to see the hills," she replied; "it is impossible to watch the distant peaks lighted up of a morning from here without longing to explore them; but I am a domestic creature," she added, smiling," although you may not suppose so, and I think I should like to spend my first year at any rate quietly here. I have been wandering all my life, and it seems really wrong to begin moving about again just when I am settled in a home at last. But I hope," she added, looking anxiously towards her father, "that it may not be necessary."

This little speech filled Yorke with a transport of delight. This

desire to remain here, knowing as she must his feelings, might he not fairly interpret it to mean encouragement? Could she indeed have said more, without departing from proper maidenly reserve? And as she threw that glance of filial anxiety towards her father he thought she had never looked so beautiful before. "Papa," said the young lady presently, who was employed on some embroidery work, "you have given Dr. Maxwell a cigar, but you have not offered one to Mr. Yorke."

"I did not know that Mr. Yorke smoked," replied her father, hastening to supply the omission by handing him his case; "he refused the offer of one last night in the billiard

room."

Yorke said, looking a little sheepish as he accepted the proffered cheroot, that he thought perhaps Miss Cunningham might not like the smell of tobacco.

"If she does not," said her father, "then she must be in perpetual discomfort, for I smoke all day long, and in every room in the house, I think. But I offered to give up the practice when first she came, and to keep my smoke to my own room— didn't I, Olivia?"

"You dear old papa! You must have had your old bachelor ways and comforts sufficiently broken in upon by my invasion, without my depriving you of your last remaining solace. Besides," she added, laughingly, "there was some real selfishness at the bottom of my request after all, for I did not want you to banish me to solitude in empty rooms. You are at home little enough as it is. It would be dreadful if you were to keep to your own room in order to enjoy your cigars there. Women should put up with smoking nowadays when it has become such a regular habit. Gentle men seem to smoke as much here as they do in Italy. Colonel Falkland

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"Don't you think some ladies are a little affected? Could anybody pretend to smell the cigars you gentlemen are smoking now? Even in the house the rooms are so big and curtainless that no smell hangs about them. Besides, even in the open air, gentlemen would never sit quietly in their chairs like this, if they were not allowed to smoke. women have our fancy-work to keep us from the fidgets. So you see," she added, looking at Yorke archly, "selfishness is at the bottom of one's amiability after all. But gentlemen seem so much more domestic in this country, they deserve to be spoilt a little."

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"Perhaps it is because they are petted at home that they are so domestic," observed Yorke. Adorable creature, he thought, perfect in every aspect, if ever woman lived who might insist on those about her dispensing with tobacco and the small vulgarities of life, surely it is you. Yet you make no terms for your beauty and your grace. Your mind is as simple as a child's, despite the lovely frame it is set in!

The doctor, his cheroot finished, now rose to go, summoning his groom and horse from the shelter of a neighbouring tree; and a redcoated messenger bringing the

Commissioner a bundle of official vernacular reports, he lighted another cigar and departed for his Own room. Miss Cunningham retired into the recesses of the western veranda; and Yorke repaired to his own side of the building to receive

the reports of his native officers, and then to spend the time till breakfast in pretence of reading -really to live the last half-hour over again, recalling each look and word.

The little party met together for breakfast at ten o'clock, but were now reinforced by Justine, the French maid or companion, who came in and took her place silently at the table, retiring on the conclusion of the meal. The Commissioner also got up then to go, observing that the Nawab's people were ordered to come for the treasure at four o'clock, but that it was quite possible they would be unpunctual after their fashion, and arrive too late to take it over that evening," in which case," he added, "I must ask you to stay with us till Monday, for the transfer ought not to be made to-morrow, being Sunday. You will excuse my running away; but I must leave my daughter to entertain you." The infatuated young man with difficulty concealed his delight at this prospect of his visit being extended, and went across the grounds to Captain Sparrow's house. He could not well be at the Residency without paying him a call, so he would get it over as soon as possible, and then have the long day alone with his beloved.

On returning to the big house, Yorke found Miss Cunningham in the drawing-room engaged upon a water-colour drawing. He hurried to her side, and looked over the paper-a sketch of trees taken in the garden, that she was finishing.

"What do you paint, as well as play and sing?" cried the young man with admiration. "Where is the end to all your accomplishments?"

"One can't play and sing for ever, you know," said the young lady, laughingly, "and one gets

tired of reading; so it is fortunate I am able to draw a little, or else time might hang heavily sometimes, with these long days spent alone."

Ah! thought the young man with admiration, looking down on the graceful head that was bending over the work-then you too feel the want of a companion! He said aloud, "You talk of drawing a little: why, a regular artist could not do better than this."

"You would not think much of this," she answered, "if you had seen any good work;" then, seeing that the young man looked distressed at her rebuke, she added, kindly, "but perhaps you draw yourself also: it must be a very useful accomplishment for a military man."

"No," answered the young fellow, humbly; "my education, such as it has been, is devoid of accomplishments of any sort."

"But there are better things than accomplishments," she continued, with earnestness, "and you have been busy mastering the solid acquirements needed in your profession. You have quite a reputation in that way among your brother officers."

"Acquirements are comparative. Most of our fellows are very lazy about these things, and so they exaggerate the smattering of knowledge others may pick up.'

But Colonel Falkland would not exaggerate, and he does not speak of your knowledge as a smattering."

"Colonel Falkland has a kind word to say of everybody; but, after all, if one does know something of his profession, what is the good of it? If there are seven officers away from your regiment already, all the education in the world won't get a fellow on to the Staff. I beg your pardon," he added; "of course

this technical shop is like gibberish to you. What I mean, is that there is a fixed limit to the number of absentees from a regiment, and my turn has not come. Besides, there is Captain Braddon come back to regimental duty, a splendid officer, who ought by rights to be served first. Not that rights have much to do with it," he added, bitterly; "a little interest is worth any amount of brains in these times."

"You mustn't say that," replied his companion; "Colonel Falkland said only the other day that he was certain that you would rise to something brilliant whenever the opportunity came."

That she should have been discussing his character and prospects with their common friend, and in such sympathising terms, sent a flush of pride and pleasure to the young man's face; but he replied, perhaps with a dimly-conceived desire to invite still further praise, "But when will opportunity come? The days of opportunity have gone by. For us young men there is nothing left but to grow old in the humdrum monotony of a subaltern's duties." Then he stopped, feeling that he was hardly giving himself a fair chance in thus running down his own position and prospects. And yet honesty forbade that he should make out his case better than it really was. But Miss Cunningham replied

says that

"Colonel Falkland every man in India gets his opporturity, if he only knows how to make use of it, He himself says he had never seen a shot fired (isn't that the expression?) till he had been ever so many years in the army; so you see there is still a margin of time available for you, before you enter the road to fame and fortune."

There was a pause, while Yorke

determined that the morning should not pass away with all its unlookedfor opportunities, without his asking her whether he might venture to hope to gain, at some future time, a greater and more valued prize than fame or fortune, and the young lady for her part plied her brush, as he stood by her side, hopeful yet uncer tain, hardly daring yet longing to speak-when the door leading from her apartment opened, and Justine, the French maid, entering quietly, her work in hand, took a seat at a little distance from the table, and began silently to ply her needle.

Here was frustration of hopes. It was evident that Justine was destined to act as duenna, and that there would be no more tête-à-tête conversations for that day, unless he could contrive some device for getting rid of her. A happy thought occurred to him. Looking through the portfolio which lay on the table, he observed

"What a number of drawings you have made already-and all sketches from life apparently! These are groups of the different servants, I suppose; and there is your pretty Selim, and the Commissioner's horse too. How industrious you must have been to have done so many !"

"Yes; but few of them are finished. I have been in a hurry to collect subjects for working up when the hot season comes, and when, they tell me, it will be impossible to draw out of doors."

"Why not try a sketch of my encampment this morning, with the tents, and the bullocks and carts, and the sepoys standing about in various attitudes? It is still quite cool out of doors."

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"That is a capital idea; it would make a charming subject. This is a bad time of the day for sketching, when the sun is so high; but the trees will make light and shade. Suppose we start at once. But

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