Part 39 (2/2)

”I can't help it,” he exclaimed at last; ”she is not the sort of girl that I thought I should have chosen to call wife; but she is all that is innocent and pa.s.sionate, and, well, I feel sure she loves me, and if she does--”

He stopped short for a few moments, thinking:

”We shall be as poor as the proverbial church mouse; but what does that matter, so long as a man finds a wealth of love?”

He continued his two or three strides backwards and forwards, and then threw himself down in his seat.

”The girl's a syren,” he exclaimed, ”and she has bewitched me. Hang me if I ever thought I could feel such a fool!”

Glen's folly, as he considered it, increased in intensity like a fever.

For years past he had trifled with the complaint--rather laughed at it, in fact; but now he had it badly, and, with the customary unreason of men in his condition, he saw nothing but perfection in the lady who had made his pulses throb.

Certainly, as far as appearance went, he was right, for nature could have done no more to make her attractive. To what art had made her he was perfectly blind, and, intoxicated by his new delight, he began to think of how he should contrive to see her again.

Glen's mind went faster than his body, which, in spite of energetic promptings, refused to do more than go on in a stolidly calm, well-disciplined way, and the utmost it would accord, when urged by pa.s.sion to go and loiter about the Palace gardens or the private apartments in the hope of seeing Clotilde, was a stroll slowly towards Hampton.

”I'm not going to behave like a foolish boy,” he said to himself. ”I've tumbled head over ears in love with her, and if I can read a woman's face she is not indifferent to me. Till I have a chance to say so I must wait patiently in a sensible way. It would be pleasant, though, to walk as far as Lady Littletown's and make a call. The old lady might, perhaps, talk about her, and I should hear a little more.”

He started with the idea of walking straight to Hampton, but he met Major Malpas, who detained him some little time. Then he encountered Maberley, the surgeon, and had to hear an account about one of the corporals who had been kicked by a vicious horse.

The consequence was that he did not get to Lady Littletown's on that day, while the next was pretty well taken up with a march out and other military duties; but free at last, he hurriedly got rid of his uniform, and once more set off to walk to Hampton.

He had hardly seen d.i.c.k Millet since he left his quarters in dudgeon.

They had met at the mess dinner, and also during the march out, but the little fellow had held himself aloof, and seemed hurt and annoyed.

”I must have a talk with Master d.i.c.k,” said Glen to himself, as he walked on. ”He's a good little fellow at heart, and I don't like to hurt his feelings.”

He had hardly formed the thought when he heard rapid steps behind, and directly after his name was uttered.

Turning round, there was the boy coming on at as nearly a run as his dignity would allow.

”I say, old fellow, how fast you do walk! Either your legs are precious long or mine are precious short.”

”Little of both, perhaps. Take the happy medium, d.i.c.k.”

”Ah, that's better,” exclaimed the boy, whose face was now bright and beaming. ”I do hate to see you in one of those sulky, ill-humoured fits of yours.”

”Yes, they are objectionable; but where are you going?”

”Going? I was coming after you. I say, I've made it right.”

”Made what right?”

”Why, _that_. I hung about till I saw the Dymc.o.xes' maid, a regular old griffin; and when I spoke to her she looked as if she would have snapped off my head. Couldn't make anything of her, but I've secured the footman.”

”Under military arrest?”

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