>J >J> :> J>J>^ >:■ ' >o>^ ?> » ^o- J>> > iP ^ ^ >> I> >^ ^ :» LI B RARY OF THE- U N 1 VLR.SITY or ILLl NOIS 823 St2c The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN DEC 2 3 1881 NOV 281981 L161— O-1096 CAVALRY LIFE SKETCHES AND STORIES IN BARRACKS AND OUT Bv J. S. WINTER Vol. L Xoubon CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1881. [^// Rig/:ts RcseyueJ.] LOSDOK : KELLY & CO., PKINTEKS, .ITTLK QUBEX STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, LONDON, W.C, AND MIDDLE MILL, KINGSTON-ON-THA5IES, V.I PREFACE s^ I HAVE . received orders from my publishers to ■^ write a Preface to the collection of sketches now ^- to be offered to the public. A Preface ! What an order ! I would as soon S write another volume ; it certainly would be the "-- easier task of the twain. It has to be done, of course ; but how, I don't know. I never wrote a Preface in my life. I have not the least idea how ^- to set about it ; though I am in an utter ^ agony of apprehension, lest defects in this absolute .?; necessity should "mull" the effect of the whole. . 1 have consulted a friend on the subject, -.who says: "Pooh! if you can write a book full >^of sketches, you can write a Preface;" and he :- Says it as glibly as if it is nothing more :> difficult than an acceptance of a dinner invitation, •^^and can be dashed off at a moment's notice. iv PREFACE. I explain to liim that " a book full of sketches " is an easy matter. I simply take a real soldier out of a real regiment, and give him somebody else's real name ; I put real jokes into his mouth, and relate real incidents which happened to him or to somebody else. But I cannot do that with a Preface ; where shall I find a Preface in real Ufe? My friend assumes a serious aspec*t ; and, leaving the question of the Preface altogether, remarks that, in his opinion, I am playing a dangerous game. " Supposing," says lie, wisely, " supposing any fellow recognizes his own portrait." I know that " any fellow " is much more likely to recognize some " other fellow's " portrait than his own ; thougli, goodness knows, tliey are nearly all unvarnished enougli for the most o])tuse self- blindness to see clearly tlirougli tlie tliin disguise cast over them. Mais revenons n nos inoutons otherwise our Preface ! I fear all tliis is terribly out of order ; yet there are one or two tilings I should like to say. whether they are out of order oi- not. PREFACE. V I wish the sketches to be taken strictly for what they are — portraits from life of our British-born sons of Mars. I own frankly that characters and incidents are, for the most part, real characters and incidents, slightly shuffled and embroidered ; and that (ill have a foundation of truth. The old letters introduced into " His Princess " (date 1759-1761) are simply copies of the originals. I certainly did mend up the spelling and the punctuation a bit — both were vile ; for, finding it such a nuisance to wade through them myself, I feared my readers would never trouble to look at them, unless I traiislaied them into plainer English. And thus I launch my military children (not quite of fancy) upon tlie world ; dedicating the portraits to the originals — to all t]\e gentlemen who have been unconsciously my models, I make my bow, and sign myself the thereby greatly obliged Author! Digitized by tine Internet Archive in 2010 witin funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/cavalrylifeorske01wint CONl ENTS OF IHK FIRST VOLUME. I'ACfK I. — TIegijihntai- Liki; ....... 1 11. — A IIegimentat- Martvi; ..... 15 111. — A 1{egimi;nt.vi, \'ai,i;xtixj: 44 IV. A RlXUMEKTAI, rOET 67 V. — The Hero of the Regiment. . . . 103 VI. — The Ordeal liv I'aint ..... 134 Vll. — A Cherub's Face i xdeu a Forage-Cai-. . . 152 Vltl. — Calcraft — A Trooi'hk ..... 173 IX. — The Victoria Cross ...... 192 X. — The Captain of 1'-1'i;(jo1' . ... 204 XI. — The Sign of thi; "(toluen Swan" . . . 228 Xll.— HrMi>Ti-l)uMnv 244 XIII. A IvEGIMENTAI, AuTdCHAT ..... 256 CAVALRY LIFE. EEGBiEXTAL LIFE. Very few people have any conception of how severe a school the Army is. I speak more especially of the mounted branch of the service, because popular writers of fiction are more fond of " writing up " cavalry officers than any other. One has grown intimately acquainted Avith life in the mess-room, as so many authors depict it. One has learned all the names officers are popularly supposed to bestow upon one another. There is always a colonel, old, white-haired, and singularly amiable, who is a sort of protecting father to all his officers. He looks after their love-affairs, of which, by-the-bye, in real life, a chief is supposed to remain in blissful ignorance. He sees they are not "put upon"' by their seniors; is frequently spoken to as " old fellow," and very often falls in love with the young lady Avho has gained the affections of one of his " subs." of, say, six weeks' standing. VOL. I. B Z EEGIMENTAL LIFE. Then comes the major; generally a woman-hater this. Why a major should invariably hold the fair sex in detestation is not often explained ; but there the truth is, stern and unvarnished, and the reader has to make the best of it. Sometimes this woman-hater falls in love, aiid is transformed into a husband of the most exemplary description, but more often he remains in his unpleasant character to the end of the chapter. I wonder does it never occur to the writer that, in the natural course of events, a man fond of soldiering, who sticks to it, must get promotion? In that case, does the major take up his predecessor's paternal line of action, and Avas the typical chief a woman-hater also, before he obtained his regiment ? Amongst the captains there are various characters; there is one who can do anything or everything. lie can sing, hunt, fish, ride — he can Avin a steeple-chase on the veriest screw, by virtue of his brilliant riding ; he can shoot, draw, and paint, act, dance, and do everything under the sun with equal perfection. He is one of those whom the gods love, and he does not die 3^oung. He is like the princess in the fairy tale, who was fortunate enough to have three fairy godmothers, for every luxury and blessing seems to have been showered down upon him. He is singularly handsome, too — generally of the type Avhich, but for the moustaches, might serve for the face of a young EEGIMEXTAL LIFE. 6 duchess ; lie has more money than he can spend, -•vhich, as he is in a cavahy regiment, must be con- siderable. He has a wonderful constitution too, for he can drink all night — brandy-and-sodas, save the mark ! — and yet he is up Avith the lark in the morning, at some innocent and healthy pursuit, which, though you might find occupying a schoolboy, never, in this Avorld, induced an officer, after a night of unlimited brandy-and-soda, to turn out of his comfortable bed until the very last moment. And the most wonder- ful of all is that, in spite of these excesses, our hero's eyes never lose their brightness or their clearness; his hand and aim are invariably as steady as a rock. To finish the list of this gentleman's charms, he is an accomplished flirt ; his very name is a terror to mothers and husbands, and yet he usually ends by marrying some insipid unformed child just out of the schoolroom, and, like the married major, settles down into a steady-going country squire, without a wish or an idea beyond his childish wife, his hunting, and his short-horns ; in fact, he sinks into a state of bucolic stupidity, and altogether forgets the days when he was the boast — very frequently the toast — of " ours," and was known far and wide as "Beauty" so-and-so. Then there is another captain who smokes. Of him we do not see very much ; his life, his thoughts, his b2 4 EEGIMENTAL LIFE. conversation, and his character may be summed up in the smgle word .smoke ; and so very properly his existence, for us, is but hazy. The senior subakern and his duties are utterly ignored ; and most prominent of all these mihtary children of fancy is the young cornet. He is very young, this Avonderful boy, and he has a decided tendency to go wrong ; but every one pets him and makes much of him, and he is popularly known as "Baby" or '• Prettyface," sometimes as "the Cherub" or " the Seraph." For this youth the protecting friendliness of the fatherly colonel comes into play, and it is wonderful how many duties and infringe- ments he is excused. He, like our friend the popular captain, is fair to look upon, being of the duchess type, graceful in bearing, and dainty in coloring. Lastly, we have the regimental surgeon, whom we must one and all own a perfect monstrosity. He is lanky, ugly, ill-dressed, speaks with a strong- brogue, or maybe a Tyne-side twang or Northum- brian burr, and altogether excites the curiosity of the reader as to how such a man attained his position. Sometimes we are admitted into the troop-rooms, and the chief feature we find there is the blind devotion of the men to the officers, or one officer in particular : not only blind devotion, but passionate admiration and keen interest in all their proceedings. KEGIMENTAL LIFE. 5 How very, very different is real life in a barrack ! How respectful the " sir "with which the colonel and the major are addressed ! How very different is the beha- vionr of the junior officers, and how mercilessly severe are the manner and judgments of "the senior sub."! The very slightest infringement of regimental rules is visited with an ante-room court-martial ; and the punishments awarded are no mere child's play ; they are often corporal, and in all cases severe. In one regiment, which for convenience' sake we will call the cuirassiers, tAvo subs., lately joined, omitted to rise for early stables, when it was their turn for duty as orderly-officer. The result was, not that these two only were reprimanded, but that the whole of the subalterns were called into the orderly- room, and, to use their own language, were "jolly well slated." The two delinquents were not especially mentioned, and thought to hear no more of the matter. Xot so. The others simply bided their time until midnight, Avhen, the senior officer having retired, an ante-room court-martial was called, and the defaulters were brought up for trial, and, being con- victed, sentenced to punishment. And in what did that punishment consist ? Xot in a " slating," but each was sentenced to receive three strokes of a birch rod from every member of the court-martial ; that is, about thirty strokes each, and well laid on ! b REGIMENTAL LITE. As soon as a subaltern joins his regiment, he is submitted to a course of practical jokes, ill-treatment, and bullying all round, to which he must offer no resistance, or his career will be a short one. For instance, a few years ago a man named Eoyd joined this same reiriment, and on his first evenino- anion o-st his new comrades was " drawn." That is to say, he was visited in his room during the small hours of the morning and ordered to go down into the ante-room for court-martial, the charije a^-ainst him beinq- that he had risen from the dinner-table whilst an officer senior to him remained sitting. Eoyd, being of huge stature and gigantic strength, stoutly resisted, and eventually picked up the largest man in the room, carried him out on to the landing, and dropped him over the baluster on to the flagged passage below. The effect was magical ; in an instant all the hubbub Avas hushed, and the injured man was raised. Fortu- nately the result was nothing worse than a sprained ankle and a severelj^-bruised hip. lie took it very quietly, and merely looked up at Eoyd, who was standing near, and said coolly, "Til have you out for this." Very possibly the new-comer did not think much of the threat, but his career Avas virtually over ; at every hour of the day and night did he have cause to repent that hasty action, and during the autumn REGIMENTAL LIFE. • < manoeuvres of that year the chmax came. It was in this wise : on a pouring wet day, or rather night, he had to visit the pickets, and as, for some reason, he had no horse, was compelled to do the rounds on foot. On coming in after a tramp of some miles thoroughly soaked and tired out, he was ordered to visit yet another outlying picket six or seven miles away. Then was his tormentor's opportunity ; he Avould not permit him to take a troop horse, though he himself Avas riding. Tired, cold, and wet, this young subaltern reached the picket ; something went wrong, as did his temper, and he swore at one of the men. His fate was sealed. His senior immediately put him under arrest, and he was told by the colonel that he must send in his papers or undergo trial by court-martial. Of course he left the regiment. A young officer is not even permitted to dress himself as he pleases. It was reported in the ante- room of the cuirassiers that one of the junior officers had been seen in Piccadilly wearing an Inverness cloak. On his return fr()m town he was ordered by the senior captain to produce the article in question and it was burnt before his eyes. "Whilst you are an officer of the cuirassiers, sir," said the senior captain, "you will dress like a gentle- man, and not as if you had bought your clothes out of a slop-shop in Bloomsbury." 8 EEGIMENTAL LIFE. Sometimes a newly-joined officer attempts the hail- fellow-well-met style of intercourse with his seniors, but his intentions are nipped in the bud Avith mar- vellous celerity. Such an one joined the cuirassiers during the leave season, and tried his sj^stem upon the major. "Ah, Houghton," said he, one day after lunch, while several officers, including the major, M'cre standing about the ante-room fire, "will you go down to the rink with me this afternoon?" The cool audacity of this proposal stopped every tongue in the room, and all listened breathlessly for the major's reply. "I don't mind," he said rpiietly, much more quietly than they expected, but probably he wished to see how far this young gentleman's assurance would take him. " Ah, very Avell. I'll be ready about four o'clock, so come round to my rooms and look me up." This was a matter for the senior sub.'s notice, and although he was not in the room at the time, the conversation was quickly reported to him, and he as quickl}^ sent for the delinquent. " Xow look here, young chap," he began, " this sort of thing Avon't do at all. If the major asks you to go anywhere with him, you will tell him whether you'll go or you won't, but you'll not propose going KEGIMEXTAL LIFE. to the rink or anywliere else with him. And anothei* thing, when yon address him yon Avill say 'major' or 'sir.' I am very much astonished that the major did not speak to you himself about it." Then life in a barrack is by no means such an existence of ease, luxur}^, and time-killing as novel- ists would fain make us believe. Take, for example, the duties of the orderly officer for the day. He must rise at six o'clock for early stables, or the whole of the subalterns suffer in consequence ; then he has to go round the breakfasts, see that they are all right, and hear any complaints ; then if it is not a field day he must ride with the troops to w-atering order ; he must visit the hospital ; then come morn- ing stables, and as hkely as not, if he be stationed at Aldershot or Colchester, he will be on court-martial, for which he has all the nuisance of getting into full dress, and may think himself very lucky if he miss the orderly-room business and the round of the dinners. In the afternoon he must again visit the hospital, and probably there will be a parade ; cer- tainly he will have the picket to mount, and as likely as not he will have to walk a mile or so to do it. Then he has the first hour's rest of the day, and at half-past five he must turn out again for afternoon stables and the "teas;" then hospital once more. He does eat his dinner in peace, but he must receive the i 10 EEGLMEXTAL LIFE. Avatc'li-setting reports and mount the guard ere bed- time. Xor should mention be omitted of the number of times the orderly officer has to sign his name and to change his uniform. If his turn fall upon Sunday he must accompany the commanding officer round the married quarters, but as some compensation for that he escapes church parade, and so is spared the trouble of getting into full dress — no light matter, more especially in the item of the boots. The imposition of fines is another method of punishing infringements of regimental rules. If an officer is not properly shaven, if he puts on any part of his uniform wrongly, he must pa}' for the cham- pagne drunk at dinner that evening. This fine is also enforced for swearing or using bad language in tlie presence of the chaplain or any senior officer, and also for dropping the sword. On certain occa- sions an officer must pay when it is not a case of fining. If he gets promotion, if he*brings home the regiment from the drill field for the first time as commanding officer, if he Avins a race, or is going to be married, at all such times he has to "stand" champagne. Our novelists do well to give their military heroes an inexhaustible rent-roll. There are very few such out of the Guards, and. soldier servants have to be very well up in methods of getting rid of duns, and KEGIMEXTAL LIFE. 1 1 such other unwelcome visitors as their masters do not care to be at home to. Another terrible mistake made by novelists is the magnificence "with^which they surround their heroes in quarters. If such could but once peep into tlie room (for an officer has seldom but one room, even if he is no longer a subaltern, excepting at Colchester, where each cavalry officer has a room about 12 feet by 14 and a tiny dressing-room, juh^t half that size) of any ordinary hussar, dragoon, or lancer, he or she — I suspect it is most often tlie women who are so fond of soldier heroes — would "never again depict him in rooms resembling a very fine lady's boudoir. Oh, the patched walls, the bare paint, the marks on the door where the lock gave way the last time the owner was "drawn" by his comrades, the blackened ceiling, the almost invari- able absence of window-blinds, the miserable regula- tion fender fastened to the floor, the more miserable regulation coal-scuttle, and, most miserable of all, the regulation barrack chairs ! It is all so wonderfully unlike the barrack-room of fiction. There is the very rickety crib of a bed, made to take in pieces upon occasion, and which by daytime the servant, with the aid of cretonne covers for the pillows and a fur car- riage rug, converts into a sofa ; and there is the dressing-table, likewise hung all round with cretonne, 12 REGI.MEXTAL LIFE. and which strikes one as being remarkably high for its purpose. Just pull the cretonne curtain a little, and half the front will open, showing you that it is but a make-believe table after all,- and, stripped of its hangings, would stand forth a packing-case ! Well, it is both a toilette-tal)le and a wardrobe now, for piled upon the shelves, which have been put in tem- porarily, are the various suits of clothes belonging to the owner of the room. Then over there, on the other side of the room, is the inevitable chest of drawers, which, when travel- ling, just fit nicely inside the dressing-table. They are exactly like the drawers in every room in the barracks ; are of mahogany, have brass handles, and a despatch-box and writing-desk combined in the middle drawer at the top. Then the lid of our friend's bath, bein^: litted with three lesjs which screw in and out at pleasure, makes a very convenient writ- ing-table if covered with a cloth, and into the bath itself, for travelling, the legs go, together with the tripod, washing-stand, and the tin basin and ewer. Some officers have pianos, but they are always hired; and most officers have a few pictures and little trifles to scatter about their room. For instance, a couple of fur rugs thrown across the huge barrack arm- chairs take off from their ugliness much ; and if a soldier is fortunate enough to know a lady wdio will LEGIMEXTAL LIFE. 13 work liim a cover for liis cot, his room Avill look much more presentable. And yet at best a soldier's room is but a " shake-down ; " and if he be rich or poor, he seldom attempts to make it otherwise. Tlie handsomest room I ever saw in barracks was that of a captain of dragoons; in fact, he had been fortunate enough to secure two large rooms, those which, if he had required them, would have been allotted to the major. This man was very rich, and had certainly taken a good deal of trouble to make his rooms habitable, and yet — well, they were only barrack- rooms. There Avere the usual make-shifts ; and when the fur rug slipped off the great easy chair in which I sat, I saw the broad straps which served for arms, and which told me it was just the same as I had seen in barrack-rooms so many times l^efore. The rooms of a well-known colonel of cavalry, a man who now possesses a title and thirty thousand a year, were simply beggarly, not nearly so liandsome as was the one little room of his Yet., of which I had just a glimpse. And why ? Because one room was the man's home ; the other was not. One more Avord and I have done ; it concerns the fancy names bestowed upon soldiers in novels. They are all fancy names, and in real life do not exist. In no case have I ever known a name given in recogni- tion of a man's personal comeliness, such as Clierub, 14 KEGIMENTAL LIFP]. Beauty, Adonis, Apollo, Prettyface, and tlie like. One of the handsomest men I ever knew was com- monly known as The Spider. Why, I cannot tell — not because he was like one. In closing, I will give a few names I have actually known : The Infant (weighing twenty-one stone). The Cob, David, The Winter Apple, King Kobo, Old Muzzie, The Spider, Landy-fandy-Widden, Sprouts, Bole, Tlie Admiral, Paddy K , Tin Whistle, Illigant John of Bath, The Lady-Killer, Mother Hubbard, Billy Buttons, Piggie, Alphabet. Most frequently men's own names are abbreviated ; thus at one time in a distinguished lancer regiment there were any amount of Bills and Billys. In another of hussars, the name of David prevailed ; nearly all were Davids, even a racehorse belonjTinij to one of the officers. When the personal appearance of an officer is not prepossessing, a name is quickly found for him. Any remark on the subject of "looks" meets Avith a re- joinder sharp and to the point. Said one cuirassier to another, " Why, your nose is so stuck up, one might hang one's hat on it." " Well, my dear chap," was the ready reply, " one certainly couldn't on yours." And it was true enouo-h. A EEGBIENTAL MAETYE; OR, HOAV GEEAED ST. HILAEY WAS DEIVEN LN'TO ^lATEBIONY. Chapter I. " MaivE hay in St. Hilary's room to night." Lieutenant Gerard St. Hihary came leisurely doAvn the broad corridor and staircase of the officers' quarters in the cavalry barracks at Milchester, and crossed the passage leading to the ante-room. As he turned the handle of the door a fragment of the conversation within fell upon his ear — " Malce hay in St. Hilary s room to-night." "The deuce ! " ejaculated that young gentleman. " Sentry-box him first," cried a voice, which he re- cognised as Captain Gurney's, a man well up the list of captains, who was old enough to have knoAvn better, " and if that doesn't fetch him, hammer the door in." " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed a chorus of voices, under cover of which the intended victim beat a retreat. " Sentry-box me ! Ah, thank you. Captain Gurney," he exclaimed, when he had reached the shelter of his own room ; " forewarned is forearmed, and I'm on my guard this time." Hastily changing his undress for mufti, Mr. St. 16 A EEGDIEXTAL MARTYR. Ililary made the best of his way out of barracks, going in the direction of Milchester. . The regiment of which he was biitt-in-chief for practical jokes, was the 52nd Dragoons of famous Peninsuhir memory. Perhaps his unfaiUng good temper made him more subject to this form of wit than would have been the case if he had borne malice and sulked. An outsider would, perhaps, say, Why did not he report the offenders, and so secure peace ? But any- one with the least knowledge of regimental life could answer, that for a subaltern to adopt such a course would simply be to limit his career in the army to a very short period. Of course during the process he blustered a good deal, and frequently threatened to tell the chief all about it the very first thing in the morning ; but, fortunately for his brother officers, Gerard St. Hilary had a peculiarity. After two a.m. he could not keep his eyes open, and was glad to make any bargain which would leave him in peace. It was invariably the same ; Lieutenant St. Hilary, lightly clad, as likely as not soaked with water, standing in the centre of a group of excited comrades in mess-dress, expressing his determination " to have no more of this foolery, by Jove." " Go it, Jerry ; pile it up, my boy!" one would cry, amidst the jeers of the bystanders. A EEGIMEXTAL MARTYR. 17 " I'm surprised at yoii, D'Albert," poor Jerry would cry, in disgust. "I'll report you in the morning, upon my soul I will, though you are a captain." Small heed did the 52nd take of these awful threats. Was not the end unchanging ? Presently St. Hilary would begin to shiver ; then Sleep would come dropping her grains of sand into Gerard's blue eyes, and his comrades knew that then was their time. " Now, Jerry, old man, if you forgive us, you shall go to bed." " Well, let me be quiet," was poor Jerry's answer (it was always the same), " and I'll say no more about it." The gratitude of the rioters was generally shown on these occasions by the careful Avay in which they tucked Gerard up in bed and reduced his room to something like order. Alas ! only something. Order generally took days and a visit to the upholsterer's to effect, with much groaning from Jerry's man on the subject of what he called " them idjiots." Poor Gerard had undergone every possible form of practical joking, and he was become a little tired of it; the trodden worm will turn, and he was thoroughly determined to put a stop to it once for all, though it must be owned he didn't quite know how to set about it. However, enough on that head. I will just explain VOL. I. c IS A REGIMENTAL MAliTYK. what is meant by "sentry-boxiiig" and "making liay," and then go on with my story. The doors of an officer's rooms are iisuaily made of strong material, the hammering in of wliich is a long process ; in order, therefore, to draw the victim from his lair Avithout his snspecting mischief they knock at his door, and tell him the colonel or the major wants him at once, or cry "Fire!" at the other end of the corridor. If this sncceeds, well and good ; but on gala nights the sentry-bOx is brought into play. It is placed close against the victim's door, after the manner of a trap, so that when he comes out he may go crash against the back of t,he box. I need not add that the more bruised and angry he is the better pleased his comrades are. Making hay is simply breaking or turning topsy- turvy everything the intruders can lay their hands upon. The cavalry barracks at Milchester are about a mile from the town, which is a cathedral city, chiefly noted for the beauty of its young ladies and the good tone of its society. In common with most cathedral towns Milchester was just a little dull. In summer the Botanical Gardens, and in winter the Winter Palace, were the principal places of amusement. To the latter Mr. St. Hilary made his way, it being, when my story opens, A REGIMENTAL MARTYR. 19 the dreary month of November. It was an "off" day. Had the bonny dappled hounds been after their httle red-coated friend, Captain Gurney would probably have come in too tired and stiff to think of anything beyond his dinner and his bed ; but there was no meet that day, and thus we have a striking instance of what Satan finds for idle hands, which is not, I trust, too severe a reflection on the gentlemen of her Majesty's army. It was three o'clock; the Palace was full, and a crowd of well-dressed people were promenading to the strains of "Gerleibt und Yerloren" waltz. Gerard passed in with all speed, and quickly made his way up and down the gay throng, as though seeking for some particular individual. He was evidently a great favourite with the fair sex, for Avherever he Avent he was greeted with smiles and other little pleasantries. Tall, short, fair, 'or dark, all seemed equally pleased to see him. ' There were girls in blue and girls in green, in sealskin and sable, in spoon bonnets and pork-pie hats ; and for each and all he had a bright word or compliment, but he lingered with none. He did not find the object of his • search very readily, for he was a trifle short-sighted, and, as I know from experience, the wearing of an eyeglass con- fines one's sight to the space immediately in front. c2 20 A REGIMENTAL JIAETYR. At last his patience was rewarded ; walking slowly with several gentlemen came a j'oung lad}^ who attracted the attention and admiration of all. She was not very tall, rather under than over the middle heifjht, with a "■raceful fig-ure and carriatje, delicate little hands and feet, and a small mignon face, of which the nose was just a wee bit up-turned, and the eyes were brilliant gleaming hazel. Her hair, Avhich was extremely abundant, was twisted round her small shapely head in massive coils, and was of the deepest auburn hue. She Avas dressed in a tight-fitting costume of prune-coloured serge, and her hat was of the same material. Her Avaist and throat Avere clasped by heavy silver belt and necklet. The name of this young lady Avas Elinor WarAvick. Her father held the appointment of deputy-assistant commissary-general. She lived on the same side of the toAvn as the barracks Avere situated, and Avas, as Avas natural from her father's position, on A-ery intimate terms Avith both the cavalry and infantry officers stationed in Milchester. The preference Avas, hoAvever, giA'cn to the former, and Mr. St. Hilary enjoyed the distinction of being Miss WarAvick's slave-in-chief. Poor Gerard, slave- in-chief and butt-in-chief! Xot an euA'iable fate; but the former office he Avould not have dele- A REGIMENTAL MARTYR. 21 gated for any consideration, while words will not express Mr. St. Hilary's feelings on the subject of the latter. It was a remarkable fact that, although ladies never could see anything in Miss AVarwick, " a little pert snub-nosed thing," she always had three or four men " in tow." On that afternoon she had a cavalier either side, Avliile one or two others made up the rear. As she said herself, " Tlie clumsy fellows could never get out of the way; it was just like walking with outriders." Gerard went up, liis blue eyes ablaze, and sauntered alongside of her for some distance, to the intense disgust of tlie man he had supplanted. Miss Elinor had, however, no intention of allowinsf him to remain there. Her way of showing him favour was by ill-usin£j him, yet oiviuij him certain small liberties which she did not accord to the men she took the most pains to please. One man would say to another when she was ordering Gerard about, " I would not stand that ; what a big duffer the fellow is ! " But Gerard Avould not have exchanged the sweet familiarity of his intercourse with Elinor for all the civil speeches in the world ; in fact, it was a case of " Betty know'd her man." '•You're coming to our ball. Miss "Warwick?" asked he. 22 A REGIMENTAL MAKTYR. " Oh, yes, of course ! " she answered, in a quick, clear voice. "How many am I to have? " pleadingly. " I really don't know. How many do you want ? " " Every one." "Well, but you can't have them. I'll give you one quadrille if you like, the third." " And four waltzes besides ? " " Xo," very decisively. " I'll give you three, if you will make yourself generally useful and agreeable this afternoon ; do your duty like a man, you know." "May I walk home Avith you ? " " Well— yes. " " I won't do it for three," announced he, leaning forward with a dangerous look in- his blue eyes. "Four, then,'' said Elinor, in rather a frightened tone. " And supper." "Xow, Mr. St. Hilar}^, you're asking too much. It's not in reason." " And supper," repeated our hero hrmly, " or I'll not stir an inch." "Well, go away." Away he went, having learned a soldier's first lesson thoroughl}'. He managed to keep Miss Warwick in sight, and when she disappeared from the gay throng, he followed in time to help her into a huge faAvn-coloured paletot, which, as the A EEGI MENTAL MARri'R. 23 inhabitants of Milchcster remarked, "no one but Miss Warwick would liave the courage to w^ear." As the two walked home together through the dreary November fog, Elinor became aware that something was amiss Avith her companion. More -ainst him. When he reached his rooms he o opened his blotting book and took therefrom a sheet of paper, on which was written a little poem which had escaped the eyes of his tormentors on the previous night. KIS MIT. Alia ill ilia, Wall walmond vasool ila ! Fellow mortals, -wliy complain ! When you suffer grief or pain ? Or why triumph when you gain? Kis mit I It is destiny ! Surely as the minutes climb, KounJ the mighty clock of Time, And the hour's succeeding chime. You fulfil your destiny. See a man crowned with success, Fortune ever seems to bless. And he knows no bitterness : He fulfils his destiny. See a man, who, for no sin, Ev'ry effort beaten in. Ever fated not to win : He fulfils his destiny. 92 A REGIMENTAL PUET. Grieved be not tlicn or gay, Whether rough or smooth your way, Take things as they come, an I say, " Kis mit 1 It is destiny." AVhat is joy or sorrow worth ? Valueless lioth grief and mirth ; AVe are puppets on tliis earth I " Kis mit! It is destiny." " I believe there's something in it," Stephen said ahjud, as he kiid the paper back in its hiding-phice. "At all events, I've done my best to see her, and failed, so Fate must have had something to do with it. If it's for the best ' Kis mit ' will keep her true until I come back. I'll run the ri,sk of trusting her." And so it happened that Stephen Thorold went away from Colchester without seeing Judith Scrope again, though, if he had known what a very deter- mined rival he had in the person of Captain Gurney, It is probable that he would not so readily have left his future so trustfully to Fate ! And thus also it was that he never missed the verses, which had been purloined during the scramble on the previous even- ing ; he had thrust those left on the chimney-shelf back into his drawer, and never thought of examin- ing them closely to see if any were gone. A EEGIMENTAL POET. 93 Chapter III. Stephex Thorold had gone, and then Captain Gurne}^ had, he feU, a fan- field ; for, Avliat was best of all, there Avas no probable, or, indeed, possible, chance of his return for at least thrae weeks. And Avhat might he not b3 able to do in three weeks ? He sauntered up to the brigadier-major's house that afternoon, and, more lucky than poor Stephen had been on the previous day, found Mrs. AVinton and her sister a" home. He was just in time to join them at their afternoon cup of tea, and contrived to make himself so agree ible that Mrs. Winton asked him to dine on the following evening. And li2 liad a good deal of chat Avith Judith, too, for several other people came in, and so engrossed Mrs. Winton's attention. He was very glad of that, of course, and thought Judith's blue eyes looked more irresistible than ever ; he caught himself tliink- ing Avistfally, yet Avith great happiness, that, if only lie could Avin them f(^r his OAvn, if only he could teach the bright fa^e to brighten at his return, the soft eyes to sadden Avhen he left them, — he thought liis future Avould ha\'e much more real placid, lasting joy than he had ever had in the past. His past had not b^^n hao'rr ! He avis ashamed, noAv that he 94 A REGIMENTAL TOET. contrasted himself with this ruddy-haired, bkie-eyed girl, wearing in all her looks and words, and surely he could trust his life upon it, in her thoughts, too, " the white flower of a blameless life : " he was ashamed of his past ; it was so widely apart from her's. The last fifteen of his iive-and-thirty j^ears, he had spent to worse than no purpose. If he could have gone to sleep at twenty and never wakened up to the present day, he felt even such oblivion would have been better than his worse than wasted years. "What are you thinking of?" Judith asked sud- denly. " I am sure of something unpleasant." " The past," he answered, briefly. "Dear me," with a laugh. "Has that been so very disagreeable ? " " It has been regretful," said he, gravely, " and I regret it, though I never did until — now." " Oh ! " she cried, lightly, " it is never any use looking back ; and between you and me. Captain Gurney, I always thought it a little — a little — what shall I say? Avell, spiritless." "Your past and mine have been different." " How do you know ? " she asked coquettishly. Captain Gurney smiled. "I know what mine has been," he answered, the smile about his lips deepen- ing, " and I look at you and — voila .'" A EEGniENTAL TOET, 95 Some SAvift, subtle instinct told Judith that he M'as right. She knew nothing of the wild orgies, the reckless dissipation, the mad follies and sins in which his life had been spent, but she looked in his face and she saw the traces of those years' work but too plainly visible. Perhaps Captain Gurney saw that she per- ceived it, for he changed the subject abruptly, and they drifted away into other topics of a less personal nature, and presently Miss Scrope showed him a well-drawn caricature of the commanding officer of the 200th, which Major Winton had brought home from their mess-table the previous evening. " I say it is incomplete," she said, brightly ; " it should have a few words or verses of explanation at the foot ; but Mr. Osmond, who drew it, says he has no gift that way." " Let me add the foot-note," he suggested. " Very well. Here is a pencil, or do you care for ink?" " This will do, thanks." He wrote a few hues hastily beneath the sketch, and handed it to Judith for perusal. She looked half-puzzled for a moment, then began reading, in a low voice, " Speaks short and sharp, eyes unsettled, face flushed. Alas ! poor Roland. That bout last even, must have been too much e'en for thy seasoned head, or perchance the dice were unpropitious, or fcrchance some fair dame — but no, 06 A EEGIMENT^SX TOET. metJiinJcs you icould not fret yourself for that, my 2?Mlo8opMcal Roland. But cheer up : care, thou hiou-est, brought a cat to an untimely end.'' " Where did you get that ? " the girl asked ; "what is it out of?" '• Oh, it is part of a scene I wrote some years ago,"" the soldier answered, carelessly. "I thought I had mistaken my vocation, and ought to have been poet instead of dragoon." " Oh, you write poetry ? " '• Certainly not," with a laugh. '• But in my schoolboy days I strung a few lines together, and thought them verses." "You have not any with you, I suppose? " " My dear young lady, most assuredly not,"' he returned. " I am so fond of poetry,"' Judith said, dreamily ; " I wish you would bring some of your verses to-morrow evening ? " " If vou really insist upon it,"" in a deprecating tone ; " but really, ]Miss Scrope, my poor attempts are — are not worth the trouble of reading." " Bring them," said she, imperatively : " I shall be dreadfully disappointed if you do not."' "Then you leave me no choice," he replied, gallantly. He betook himself b:ick to barracks a few minutes A REGIMENTAL TOET. 97 later as sorely puzzled as ever any man was in this world. What he should do he didn't know. He knew perfectly well that the verses he had spoken of would only make Miss Scrope laugh — being the merest doggrel, of this type — Oh ! my heart is very sore, For I shall never see her more, And very often I could roar For Mary Jane ! Oh ! I loved her very much, And my love for her was such, I could bear no one to touch My Mary Jane ! My love had eyes of liquid hlue, She vowed she would to me be true. She said it, with her head askew, • My Mary Jane ! He felt it would not do to take such an " attempt " as that for Miss Scrope's inspection. He was com- pletely hedged, for he dared not go without them ; and wliere to get any fairly good original poems he did not know. Then suddenly an idea occurred to him. Ah ! why should he not copy out those verses he had taken from Stephen Thorold the other night? Happy thought ! He would act upon it. Act upon it he certainly did, and found his way to the Winters' house the following evening, fully pre- pared to undergo a searching examination from Miss Scrope on the subject of verse writing. "I hope 5'ou have not forgotten the verses," she said, confidentially, when he gave her his arm into dinner. VOL. L H 98 A EEGIMEKTAL POET. " I could not forget anything you wished," he responded. " Oh," remarked Miss Scrope, a httle blankly : she had not bargained for that tone of devotion. But after dinner, all the same, she demanded the poems, and, -with a little show of unwillingness. Captain Gurney produced them. She took them from him and began reading, in the way she had done on the previous da}", almost to herself. CHARGE OF CHASSEURS. The smoke cleared away as the foe was advancing, Their massy battalions loomed darkling and large ; The sun on their hayonets was fitfully glancing, As the notes of our trumpets rang out for the charge. And Fortune, alas ! ever fickle, had left us. And hurled us from victory into defeat ; Of our hest and our bi-avest Llack death had bereft us, The rest of the army was beating retreat. The Moblots were routed, the fellows who spouted, In terms so heroic — the ci-devant braves ; Save the wounded and dying, the rabble were flying. Mixed up with the line and the tawny Zouaves. An aide-de-camp, panting, our orders had Ijrought us, With bloody foam flecked was his gay sabretache ! He reeled, ere our lesson he fully had taught us. The blood welling under his yellow moustache. Our colonel's stern face, as he turned to address us, Lit up with the battle-glow, lurid though wan, " The foe must be checked ; you perceive how they press us. My lads : we must stop them, or die to a man." Miss Scrope laid the paper down Avith a long, long sigh. " I think it is perfectly lovely," she said, at last. A REGLAIENTAL POET. 99 " Oh ! hardly tliat ! " Captam Gurney answered, with much hiimihty. " Mere doggreL" " I don't see why it is always necessary for people to depreciate their own works," she said, gravely. " jSTow, if I had written that, you would have been in raptures over it." "Very possibly." " Then, why affect to despise it because it is your own ? I am sure if I were sufficiently clever to have written that, I should be very very proud of the children of my fancy." Oh ! how her SAveet words of praise echoed in his heart, and made it throb on with double speed : he only wished they really were his own, but then, she would never know ! " Give me another," she demanded. TO — " Who was that to ? " she asked, coaxingly. Of a surety, there seemed but little chance for poor Stephen. " I will tell you some day," he answered. " No ; tell me now." " Can you not guess ? " looking full into her blue eyes. " I," with a rippling laugh. " Xo, how should I be able to guess ? Well, since you wont tell me, I must go on reading." VOL. I. H 2 lOU ' A KEGIMENTAL POET. Oh, my dearest, may you never See a face you love grow cold ; And contrast tliat growing coldness With the smile you knew of old. Long to make another effort, To express the love you feel ; And tlien, groaning, see the utter Uselessness of such appeal. Tlien may Time he swift to banish All your weary weight of pain : Time at last the wound shall conquer. Though the scar may still remain. " I like that even better," said Miss Scrope, de- cidedl}', " and I shall keep these." » " No, no, I beg not." " Yes, I shall indeed," and, as if to prove her words, she unlocked an inlaid box upon the table and put the papers away. "And now, since you have entertained me so delightfully, I am going to sing to you." Chapter IY. The days slipped away and wore into weeks, and the weeks glided on until they formed a month, ere Stephen Thorold returned to head-quarters. He ap- peared smiling and happy at mess that night, for he had arrived early in the forenoon, and had therefore had time to pay a visit to a certain villa on the Lexden Eoad, and where, if the truth must out at once, he had had a most satisfactory interview with A REGIMENTAL POET. 101 a young lady called Judith Scrope. If Stephen looked bright and happy, the senior captain Avas the very reverse. He greeted Stephen with a growl, scarcely touched his outstretched hand, and " shut up " every effort he made to converse with him, with scant cere- mony. And poor Stephen was so very innocent and unsuspecting of the tumult which was going on in his senior's breast. He had come back from a tiresome three weeks' march, a wearisome dawdle of twenty- four hours in Dublin Bay — waiting for orders — a more w^earisome voyage of four days, with fearfully rough weather, and a long railway journey back to the place where he should find his love, where he had found her. What wonder was it that, having seen her and set everything " right," he should be over- flowing with kindliness and ban homie to all his brother officers ? He took all their chaff good-naturedly, as usual ; he told them all about his long journey, and caused screams of laughter by the recital of his ad- ventures, and then someone asked him if he had written any more poetry ? " Well, no, I havn't," he answered, cheerfully ; " and^ I say, whilst the subject is afloat, I may as well tell you that I did not write those verses you made such a fuss about just before I went away." " Oh ! by jove ! " cried one. " Who wrote them ? " asked another. 102 A EEGBIENTAL POET. " Anyone ^ve knoAv ? " said a third. " Well, I'm not at liberty to tell you, except that they were written by a lady," he answered. " A lady ! " They were all too much astonished to make a noise, and most of my readers will know that it takes a good deal to astonish officers of dragoons. In spite of their efforts to discover avIio the author was, Stephen refused to tell them ; but presently, when Captain Gurney came up and asked him the question plainly, he gave him a plain, straightforward reply. " Who wrote those poems, Thorold ? " he asked curtly. " Miss Scrope," said Stephen, quietly. Captain Gurney stood cjuite still for a moment, and Stephen, being like Duncan Grey of old "a lado'Grace," forebore to look at him at all, but confined his atten- tion strictly to the pictures on the opposite wall. The older man tried for a moment to think ! The events of the past month surged into his brain with painful distinctness ; how Judith had praised the poems and lifted her blue eyes with such innocent sweetness to his — how she had held him at arm's lenoth, vet each day drawn him on a little further and a little further — how she had — bah ! he couldn't think of it any longer, but he rapped out two short words, which nearly sent Stephen's gravity off the balance, and they were — " Little Devil ! " THE HEEO OF THE EEGIMENT. Bi THE Author of "A Regimental Martyr," "A Eegimextal Valentine,' " A Eegimental Poet," &c., &c. Chapter I. Captaix Gurxey Avas utterly tired of his old regi- ment, and had made up his mind to leave it. So long as his comfort depended upon the behaviour of his .brother officers he was very well content, for all soldiers are willing to overlook practical jokes, and subalterns are compelled to do so. But sometimes the juniors have wives, and when those wives are very beautiful and very popular women, they have it in their power to make matters particularly unpleasant for any officer to whom they may have taken a dis- like. However greatly an officer may be offended and annoyed by so-called jokes, even though they have been carried beyond all bounds of reason, three words will generally set everything straight and make him forget all about it ; but with his wife reconcilia- tion is not always so easily effected : if she resolutely declines to forget what is past, and cannot forgive " fun " — at the worst only intended to relieve the 104 THE IIEEO OF THE KEGIMENT. tedium of dull country quarters — the unlucky offender may find liis life much less pleasant than it might otherwise have been to him. Now this was precisely the box in wdiich Captain Gurney found himself, and he did not relish the position at all. When, after dinner or ball, the men were, one and all, raving of the beauty, and the wit, and the charms of Mrs. Gerard St. Hilary or Mrs. Patrick O'Shaughnassy, not forgetting Mrs. Stephen Thorold, it was galling in the extreme to this gallant gay Lothario to be obliged to own that he had no acquaintance with any of them. When all his comrades Avent on Sunday afternoon to the house of ' one or other of those ladies, for an early cup of tea, he could not do likewise, because he had not been asked. When he met the two first in the street, (Judith was more merciful) they looked him .full in the eyes without the slightest inclination of either handsome head ; he felt all his temper — and it was a passionately fierce one— surging up tumultu- ously within him, and he vowed bitter vengeance against the pair of them, and looked forward with intense eagerness to the day when he should have brought one or both of them to his feet, when they should acknowledge his powder and atone for by-gone scorn with pleading humiliation : wdien those eyes which looked so straight ly into his own, should droop before his in supplicating fear. Nay, I must confess, he THE IIEEO OF THE KEGIMENT. 105 looked eagerly forward to the time when Gerard St. Hilar}' and Patrick O'Shanghnassy should find their hearts desolate ; but There's a divinity tliat shapes our ends, Eough-hew them how we will. The day which Greville Gurney anticipated never came. Without doubt, he was handsome enough and fascinating withal, but, bless you, the man never got a chance. EUnor St. Hilary and Alys O'Shaugh- nassy wouldn't have him at any price . . . they both agreed that their safest plan would be to keep on the firm ground of non-acquaintance, and not trust themselves upon the perilous and extremely uncertain ocean of Captain Gurney 's friendship. At last he felt he could endure life in the old regiment no longer : he was too fond of his profession to dream of leaving the army, but he made up his mind that he must exchange, wdien, to his unspeakable joy and satisfaction, he obtained the majority, and im- mediately exchanged with Major Ford of the 7th Lancers, then in India. So he turned his back upon the old set, followed only, I fear, by the regrets of his commanding officer, for he was a smart soldier, whom Colonel Lifford was sorry to lose, and Colonel Cornwallis was glad to gain. He gave a handsome piece of silver to the mess-plate, and had a ijrand farewell dinner fjiven to him, at which, if mv 106 THE HERO OF THE REGIMENT. reader had been present, he might reasonably have supposed that the officers were, one and all, convinced that the hope and the prestige of the regiment were departing from them in the person of Greville Gurney, and yet they knew — and, what was worse, he knew — that they were all very glad to be rid of him. But his advent into the 7th was eagerly ex- pected, more especially by the chief, for smart officers, like good-looking curates, are at a premium, so he felt that the change was all for the best. He had never thought, or indeed intended, to go to India ; but, after all, he rather liked the idea. The 7th had only some three years to remain in India, and, by the time he returned, lie could set about finding a wife in downright good earnest. However, before the good ship sighted the Eock, the idea had entered his brain and taken very firm root there, for, curiously enough, he found amongst the passengers Mrs. Cornwallis, the wife of his new colonel, and her sister. Miss Bannister. Violet and Dorothea Bannister were co-heiresses, and had been left orphans at a very early age. In appearance they were not much alike, for Violet, the elder by two years, was fair, with a gentle, saint-like expression of countenance, and large limpid eyes, of so deep a blue that her fanciful young mother had insisted upon her being called — Violet. THE HERO OF THE REGIMENT. 107 " You know, Jack," she had said to her husband, when he demurred a Uttle, wishing himself to call the child after her, " we can give the next one my great mouthful of a name," and so the child was christened Violet, later shortened into Vi ; but when the next one came there was no question of dispute about her name, for the young mother lay in a darkened chamber above, while a grave-faced clergyman performed the ceremony of baptism in haste, fearing that the morsel of humanity, whose tiny life had cost so dear a price, would die in his arms ere it was concluded. But the child did not die : the elder Dorothea, with all her strong affections and her bright hopes of life, passed away ; but the younger one, with her few hours' hold upon existence, struggled on and lived. About her name there had been no question, but by it she was never called. Mr. Bannister could not bear the sound of it, and Avas eagerly glad when, some- how, the tiny, dark-haired, dusky-eyed child came to be known in the household as Floss. So Floss she was called, and Floss she remained, long after her father had followed his young wife across the dark river, and after Yi had been three years married to Colonel Cornwallis of the 7th Lancers. When Yi had married, at twenty, to go to India im- mediately — for she had met Colonel Cornwallis whilst on leave — Floss had not been in very robust health. 108 THE HERO OF THE REGIMENT. and the doctors had. advised her not accompanying her sister just then. She therefore Avent to hve with the aunt, with whom they had spent all their holidays, and who divided her time equally between Paris, London, and Scarborough. The three j'ears had passed in a perfect whirl of pleasure for Floss, but she had not followed her sister's example and entered upon the holy estate of matrimony. Mrs. Garth Avas in no hurry to lose the girl who made her life so daily, hourly bright, Avhose fascinating ways made her house the most sought after domicile in Avhatever town they happened to be living ; and so it happened that Avhen, after a few hours' illness, Mrs. Garth Avas taken aAvay from the pleasures she loved so dearly. Floss Avas completely left alone. She had no relatives but the CornAvallises, and she telegraphed to \i to come, if possible, to settle their aunt's affairs, and take her back to India Avith her. Thus it happened that, after a three months' sojourn in England, Mrs. CornAvallis Avas returning to her husband, taking Floss Avith her. And then everything seemed couleur de ros3 to Greville Gurney's eyes. Surely no man CA^er Avent that voyage Avith a more contented heart than his ! He had nothing to do, nothing to Avorry him, no disagreeable, handsome sub- alterns' Avives to annoy him Avith their airs and graces; he had no temptations to indulge in his old favourite THE HERO OF THE REGIMENT. 109 pursuit of practical joking, and he had at all hours of the day Floss Bannister to watch and talk to. And, of course, it was pleasant for the sisters to have the major of their own regiment travelling with them : they made pleasant little excursions wherever they stopped ; they had a dozen little innocent jokes of their own — that is to say, strictly among themselves — which they did not share with the other passengers, and the trio enjoyed life immensely. It was coideur de rose for all of them. Yi, who was going back to her husband, and to seeing whom she counted the days and almost the hours, used to sit idly under a huge white umbrella, thinking of little else save the stern, bronzed face, with its well-waxed dark moustaches, which was to her as no other on the whole earth; and Floss, always restless, always with some employment, flirting with Greville Gurney, who, for his part, was so supremely, calmly happy, that he almost wished the vo3'age would last for ever. But it did not : in time it came to an end, and they reached Bombay, where they found Colonel Corn- wallis waiting for them. It may readily be imagined that during the days which followed Captain Gurney 's opportunities of seeing Floss Bannister were not lessened : he opened his eyes in astonishment at the marvellous way in which the chiefs little wife bloomed out and expanded after they landed ; he could hardly 110 THE HERO OF THE KEGLMENT. believe it was the same Avoman. He had wondered during the voyage if she could really be Miss Ban- nister's sister ; they seemed so different : the one all fire and vivacity, the other so languidly indifferent to all subjects save that of reaching Bombay. But now that he saw her under what Floss called " favourable circumstances," he was fairly dumb with amazement. It was as if a little sickly bud, with seemingly not sufficient strength to bloom, had suddenly been trans- formed into a gorgeous rose, with all her velvet-like petals, her fragrance and her many graces set forth for the benefit of all beholders : he wondered if Floss would ever love him like that ? He did not know ; he was not sure. He thought she seemed brighter and more sparkling when he was near her ; he fancied her great dark eyes lighted up with more than their usual radiance when he approached her ; he tried hard to persuade himself that he was quite sure she loved him, but he could not altogether succeed. He had made several mistakes upon that same subject lately, and, somehow, he had not heart enough to put it to the test and have done with it. He haunted the colonel's bungalow until the chief suggested to his wife that Guruey had better take lodo-ino-s with them altosfether, but he o'ot no further with Floss. Try as he would, he could not induce her to look at anything in a serious light : if ever he THE HERO OF THE EEGIMEXT. Ill approached, no matter how cautiously, the topics of lonehness or marriage, Floss immediately opened out upon what she called her " views." " I don't think I quite believe in marriage, Major Gurne}^," she said one day, when he had expressed his envy of a fellow-officer, who was just entering the holy state. " It's all very w^ell for men, but for us poor women ! — why, it is neither more nor less than giving up a kingdom to become a slave. Xow, just take me for an example ! I have now between twenty and thirty adorers — humble, abject adorers." "Yes, I know," muttered Major Gurney between his teeth. There were just seven and twenty, without counting himself. " Xot that I consider them very delightful," Floss continued, with gravely pursed-up mouth. " In fact, strictly between you and me, they are rather a nuisance, so many of them. But then, supposing I was to marry one of them — wdiy, he might turn out like the husband of a friend of mine. What do you think he does ? " " Beats her perhaps," suggested the major. " Much worse," Floss cried, energetically — she had not been in India long enough to become languid. " She is five and twenty, a gentlewoman by birth and education, the mother of two children, and he never gives her a penny ! " 112 THE HERO OF THE KEGIMEXT. " By Jove ! " muttered the major, in astonishment ; " but perhaps she has money of lier own ? " " Xot a farthing." " But how does she dress herself ? " " Oh, when she cannot do without a dress any longer, he goes and buys her one, and he pays her dress- maker's bill himself. I have seen him buy six pair of gloves for himself and. one for her ; and once, when I was staying there, he went himself to pay a woman who had been helping in tlie kitchen," she ended, indignantly. "What a mean hound!" ejaculated Major Gurney, in very real tones of condemnation. The mischievous laughter in Floss Bannister's dusky eyes deepened, and the indignant ring in her voice grew more pronounced. " Ah ! but I told that story once to a man who wanted to marry me," she laughed, " and he used those very words, ' What a mean hound ! ' I must admit that tlicy sounded so real that he completely took me in, but I heard not long afterwards that during the nine years he was married — for he was a widower — he never once bought his wife a gown, and the only decent dresses she had, her mother gave her! " Within himself Major Gurney groaned. It was no use arguing with Floss any further, he knew ; she had triumphed. Yet he laughed! He had, he was THE HERO OF THE REGIMENT. 113 perfectly aware of it, many objectionable points, but meanness was not one of them. He laughed half a dozen times that day at the idea of his paying Fless's bills, and doling out a pair of gloves at a time. He thought it would be rather nice than otherwise to have those coaxing eyes up-lifted to his, that coaxing mouth teazing for a new dress or a set of furs, to hear her winning tones saying persuasively, " Greville, do buy me that bonnet." And yet to him there was something absolutely appalling in the idea of a pretty woman not being- able to have as many gowns and bonnets as she required. He should like the coaxing eyes, the coaxing mouth, and the winning tones dearly enough, but he would prefer to hear them say, " Greville, do take me for a drive," or " Darling, i^lease don't stay away a moment longer than you can help," to " Greville, do buy me that bonnet." When a man is in love it does not take much to put him into a perfect paradise of bliss — only about as much as is required to throw him into a fever of unrest and misery. Major Gurney that evening was happy — very happy. He went to bed and slept soundly ; he did not often do that. He was not bitten once by anything during the whole night, and he dreamt that Floss Bannister had come and put her soft arms round his neck and said, "Love me, VOL. I. I 114- THE HERO OF THE EEGIMEXT. Greville." Poor fellow, it was like falling from Heaven into the nethermost torment, when he woke to find his bearer's black face peeping through the curtains, and " Four o'clock. Sahib," sounding in his ears. AVhy it was an absolute insult to Floss that a wretched Hindoo should recall her to his mind. As usual, during his morning ride, he fell in with the Cornwallises and Miss Bannister, and, for a wonder, the latter was unattended. " How grave you look," she remarked, when they were riding quietly abreast, " Had a bad night ? " " Quite the contrary — an unusually good one," he replied. " Then what is the matter?" she persisted. " Oh ! I've been thinking of what you said yester" 'day," he returned gravely. " What about ? " " About ^ettino- married." An expression of intense amusement came into her ■eyes, as quickly followed by a certain tenderness, which, if Major Gurney had noticed, would have set everything straight between them ; but unfortunately he did not, for Floss's face Avas bent almost to her saddle. "And what have you been thinking about? " she asked at length. " Well, of course, what you told me was very bad, THE IIEKO OF THE EEGHIEXT. 115 very despicable," he ansAvered, " and a fellow, wlio beliaves like that to his wife, ought to be sent to Coventry ; but, still, there's something to be said on our side. JSTow, I know a lady, Miss Bannister, who never speaks to her husband, if she can possibly help it." " Perhaps he deserves it," Floss suggested. " Very likely, only that is hardly the way to help liini to grow better, is it ? " Floss pulled her horse up sharply. " Don't speak to me in that way," she cried ; " I'm not anyone's wife, thank goodness — if I were, I should behave myself properly ; but don't bully me for some one else's misdoings." And then, like two silly children, they burst out laughing, and rode on again. The major, however, had something to say, and he meant to say it. " And I once knew a lady who spent just five times as much as her husband could afford. He was a barrister; and to see the poor chap toiling and slaving and Avorking to provide things for her, with- out thanks even. Oh ! by George! but it did make my blood boil. She used to do all sorts of things, too, that he didn't like ; and once, she proposed a mad freak, which I said I was certain her husband vv'ould never permit. " ' Permit,' she laughed. ' Pooh ! — I have a hold over that man.' " VOL I. I 2 116 THE HEEO OF THE REGIMENT. " Hateful wretch ! " cried Floss, passionately. " I should like to marry her to Winny's husband — he would let her see ! Hateful wretch ! " But, still, although he had gained a victory over Floss, it cannot be said that Major Gurney's wooing throve apace. As if to make up for the serious con- versations they had indulged in. Floss, for a few weeks, gave Major Gurney but little of her society. Of the seven and twenty adorers, each had a turn — such a turn, too, that with every one a match was predicted ; and then one or two new ones arrived on the scene. Floss polished them all off. Slie was very particular, too, to carry on her warmest flirta- tions just under the major's nose, driving him thereby to the very verge of desperation. And then the Cornwallises obtained leave, and went to Simla, from whence he heard plentiful accounts of Floss's doings, and, shall I dare to say it, misdoings ? Poor Major Gurney, he railed at the fate which would not give him leave ; at the utterly unjust and unequal way in which the little blind god distributes his favours ; and thus March and April slipped away ; and then he had fresh cause for grumbling, for just as the Cornwallises returned, an attack of fever laid him on tlie sick-list, and another fortnight passed before he saw her. And, Avhen at length he was able to crawl over to THE HERO OF THE KEGIMENT. 117 the colouers bungalow, there were rumours afloat, which put such thoughts as favour and marriage out of his head, rumours which gave the officers grave faces and the wives fearful hearts, for the chiefest of them was — Mutiny. Chai^er II. All English people know the history of that fearful struggle by heart — some by the brotherhood of nationality, others by bitter heartaches and weary blanks in the family circle, which may be filled up never more. And there are not a few who can look back to those weary months, when they stood cheek by jowl with grim death, with famine, torture, and even dishonour in his ghastly train. The words " Cawnpore," '' Delhi," and " Luckuow," are sufficient to brings to our minds scenes and details which sickened us to read, and which sicken us now to re- call to our remembrance. How gently - born, delicately-nurtured women and little children went through fearful privations and hardships during that awful time, only to end by finding themselves widowed or orphans. How thousands won for them- selves a glorious crown of martyrdom, cruelly as did ever saints of old. How parents saw their little 118 THE HEEO OF THE EEGLAIE^'T innocent babes murdered before their eyes while wait- ing for their own turn to come. Husbands shot their wives to save their honour — the tender Avives whom they had brought from the safe shelter of their English homes. How, even after that, we are told, they died praying to the end — died, seeing resistance useless, as only the English aristocrat can die — and are not the English of the truest aristocracy, inasmuch as they can fight like tigers and die without a murmur? Colonel Coruwallis's first anxiety Avas to get his Avife and sister as much out of harm's Avay as possible, and to the comparative safety of Simla he decided to send them, but, Avhen the arrangements Avere all com- pleted, an obstacle, unthought of before, presented itself in the shape of Mrs. CoruAvallis's consent. He had taken that for granted. The idea of gentle, obedient Yi dreaming for one moment of setting up her Avill in opposition to his had never occurred to him. Yi, avIio lived and breathed and had her very beings^ him ! Yi, Avho drooped and faded like a floAver torn from the parent stem, if parted from him even for a da}'. That Yi should flatly refuse to go he had never anticipated, yet that Avas Avliat she did. " I Avon't go," she said, decidedly. " Neither AA'ill I,'' announced her sister. Colonel CoruAvallis fairly groaned. That Floss should shoAv her Avill Avas nothino- ncAv, or that she THE HERU OF THE REGIMENT. 119 should fuUo^v her sister's lead, once m a way. If Yi had stormed and cried, had begged him, with sobs and tears, not to send her away, he would, he knew, have prevailed, but Vi did nothing of the sort. She hfted her great violet eyes boldly to his, she folded her hands placidly, and she said, " I won't go." " Xeither will I," said Floss. " But my dearest," the colonel replied, " God only knows to what this may lead. In Simla you Avill be fairly safe. Think of my anxiet}', if I see you here- suffering and am unable to help you, think of my sorrow, if — if you are Avounded, if — Oh, Yi, my- darling, you must go ! I shall at least have the com- fort of knowing that you are safe. I msist upon your going." " Xo," she replied, firmly, " I will not go. I have never once crossed your will since our marriage day. I cross it now by refusing to obey you. It is no use insisting, I 'refuse to obey. I took 3'ou," she con- tinued, with a sob in her voice, " for better for worse, for richer for poorer, till death us do part ! This is my place, and here I remain." "But, great heavens!" cried the major, who was present, " you may be killed ! ^Te cannot tell what the consequences may be. Floss " — stepping forward and taking her hand — " Floss, persuade her to do as we wish." 120 THE HERO OF THE EEGIMENT. But Floss turned upon him with an indignant flash in her dark eyes, and flung the hand from her. " Do you think we Bannisters are cowards ? " she cried, passionately. " If there is danger, we can share it ; privation, we can try to lighten it ; death, we can die like christians." And so they gave in, and the two brave girls won the day, but not before Colonel Corn- wallis tried once again. " Supposing I am killed, Yi," he said gravely, " I shall die with the agony of knowing that you are left at the mercy of these savages. Will you add that misery to my difficulties ? " " No, Bruce," she answered, " if we should be taken, I shall find death come sweetest from your hand, out of the pistols which I have loaded and polished for you so often ! Yes, in that case, to save me greater torture, you will shoot me — it will be over in a moment ! If you are killed, I can trust your officers to protect me, and, failing them," with a smile, " I shall have quite sufficient courage to send the bullet home myself." And so the day was won ! The story went from mouth to mouth, bringing tears to the eyes of the rough stalwart troopers, courage to the drooping hearts of their wives, avIio had not had the chance of escape, and comfort to the souls of the two men, who knew now what was the depth of those brave, loving, faithful hearts. They were glad then THE IIKRO OF THE REGIMENT. 121 that tlieir entreaties had not prevailed, for the two gentle girls had not stayed to become a bnrden and a hindrance. Their time was fully occupied, tending the sick and wounded, cheering the brave little band — Avhich grew daily smaller and smaller — going fearlessly amid shot and shell on their rounds of hope and mercy, the sisters won the passionate love and admi- ration of every man, woman and child in the garrison. It was Vi, who gave her last tin of milk for the sick child of a private's wife ; it was Vi, whose breast pillowed the dying head of trooper and officer alike ; Yi, who wrote down loving messages of farewell, to be given if she should live through the rebellion ; it was to please Vi, that wounded men hushed their groans and terrified Avomen tried to be brave. And Floss, Avhatofher? Of the nursino- and the cookino- and the washing she did her share, but there was one duty she took upon herself and never failed in. The chaplain had enough upon his hands in burjdng the dead and helping Vi to comfort the dying, more than twice in the day, he could not visit the out-posts. Floss went almost every hour ! How the men looked for her coming. With her pale, pale face, and her dark eyes, with her dark silky hair cut close to her head, partly on account of the terrible heat, partly to save time and trouble ; Avitli her gown, which had once been white, but alas ! was now all stained and 122 THE HERO OF THE REGI-An:XT. yellow, and with her brave heart, open to all alike now, she seemed to them like some glorious angel, for surely it was the light of Heaven, which shone upon her face. Sometimes she brought her Bible and read a few verses, sometimes she sang a hymn, but more often she knelt simply down and repeated " Our Father " in her clear ringing tones, ending " Tlie Lord bless us and keep us." She w^ould bring to one man news of his sick wife, to another tidings of his wounded comrade, to all courage and comfort, and still she did not shirk her woman's Avork. And then the labour which fell upon her grew heavier, for Colonel Cornwallis was grievously wound- ed. Yi, Avho had worked like a very slave, left much of her work in the hospital to Floss ; she could scarcely be torn from her husband's side, and so Floss worked liarder than ever. Her face grew paler and more wan, her eyes more haggard, her gown more torn and yelloAv, and upon the little hands, wdiich had once been so wdiite and soft, the traces of work became more apparent, and the enemy crept closer and closer. As her work in the garrison grew heavier, so did her self-imposed labour of love at the out-posts and forti- fications diminish, for, with almost every day, she had fewer to visit. Every day brave, bronzed, bearded faces were missimj— faces that had brio-htened at her THE IlEKO OF THE KEGIMENT. 123 coming ; ej'es tliat had lighted up Avith tenderest love for her Avere doav closed in the sleep of death ; lips that kissed the little Avork-worn hands gratefully AA^ere silenced for ever. She missed them, Avith a bitter heartache, and dared not trust herself to think Avhich face might be gone Avhen she came again ; but she bore up braA'ely through it all. In Avhat the defenders of the garrison Avere pleased to term safety, the misery Avas greater. Xo one had time for grief: Avidows saAV their dear ones carried aAvay, but they might not sit doAvn and Aveep ; there Avas more Avork than could be done Avaitinfr for their o hands. E\'en Yi, having managed to get her husband a room alone in the little bungaloAv Avhich stood in the compound of the one they had occupied, but Avhich noAV formed the hospital, left him a good deal, that she might lighten her sister's load ; and so the time Avent on. Amongst others, the chaplain Avas killed, so then Floss Avas the only comforter of the defenders. They Avatched, anxiously enough, the pale face groA\'- ing paler, the circles round the dark eyes deepening ; they noted the least falter in the gentle voice, Avhich had not much ring left in it, Avhich had neither time nor strength for reading or for hymns, Avhich noAV only gaA'e utterance to those tAvo short j^rayers, Thy Kingdom come, Thy -will be done. Only that and " The Lord bless us and keep us.'' llM THE HERO OF THE EEGIMENT. Chapter III. At last Greville Gurney had given iu, not from Avounds, not sunstroke, not from malady of any kind — only from sheer fatigue, from overpowering sleep. Some of the men lifted him on to a mattress and carried him to the first room of the hospital. eTust as they turned away Floss came out of an inner apartment with scared eyes and a single word upon her lips — " Wounded ? " " Xo, no. Miss, darlin'," answered one of them ; " only dead beat he is ; an hour of sleep '11 do him all the good in the world." " Ah I " with a great sigh of relief, then leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The big- Irishman looked at her in silence for a moment. "I'd just go an' lie down me-self, if I was you. Miss, dear," he said : " at last you'll be wearin' yer- self out, and we'll have never a soul to say a word of comfort to us." " I'm afraid I must," she answered ; " I'd go and lie down by the colonel, only I'm so tired." The big lancer picked her up like a baby, and ran across the compound with her, taking her right into the chiefs room, not a little to Vi's dismay, who feared she was hurt THE HEEO OF THE EEGDIEXT. 125 " Miss Floss is just tired out, mem," he amiounced, " and we've frightened her to death by carrying in the major, -who's dead beat." "I thought he would have to give in," Mrs. Cornwallis said, as the man retired. " Lie doAvn here, Floss, and I will go and see after things." " Could you go round the posts ? " Floss asked, im- ploringly. "They will be expecting me, and it wouldn't take you long : just the ' Our Father' and the blessing, Vi." " Yes, I'll do it," and then she went away. And so the two brave souls slept heavily. Floss with- in sight of the wounded colonel, and Greville Gurney on the floor of the hospital ; and while they slept, the enemy crept a little nearer, forced the defenders back, and covered the space between the two bungalows with their fire. At the very first shot Vi Cornwallis sped back to her husband's side, just as Floss, with dazed eyes and scattered senses, sat up on her bed, wonder- ing what the noise meant. " What is it, Yivi ? " she asked. " I think the end has come," she said calmly ; " let me have your hand, Bruce, darling." All her bravery, all her courage rose to the surface then. She sat down quietly beside her husband, Avith one hand in his, a revolver in her right hand, and a second lying ready loaded on the bed. 120 TIIK HERO OF THE REGBIEXT '' Wiat's that?" Floss cried, clasping her hands together. There was no answer : a shell came through the roof with a crash, while from the opposite building- rose a wild shriek of " Fire ! " " What's that? " Major Gurney asked, starting up from his hardly-earned repose. A young officer, just entering the room, answered him hastily, " A shell has sent the colonel's room to smash, and they're all there I " Greville Gurney sprang from his couch without a moment's delay, and ran as fast as possible round to the side of the hospital, opposite to which the Corn- wallises' room was. A little group of soldiers and ladies were standing within the shelter, one of the women sobbing unrestrainedly. " Good heavens ! are you going to leave them there?" Greville cried passionately : " a wounded man and two helpless Avomen in a burning house ! " " The roof has fallen, major," one of the men re- plied, " and there is a sharp fire between us." So there was: they could watch the bullets whistling and whirling through the air between them and the Cornwallises' hut. As the man spoke several officers came running to the spot : " The colonel's room ? " one asked. "Yes, Fm going," the major answered. Tin: IIEKO OF THE REGIMENT. 127 " So am I," and " So am I," cried the otliers. " No, no ; I'll have no married men," Greville cried decidedly. " Maude, you may come." As he spoke he caught up a mattress, and dashed straight across the open space, followed by young Maude, both of them reaching the verandah of the opposite bungalow in safety. There, under the veran- dah's scanty shelter, they found the two women, who, between them, had managed to drag Colonel Corn- wallis out of the rapidly-burning building. Floss uttered a glad cry, as the two men ran round the corner ; little Mrs. Cornwallis breaking into a passion- ate torrent of tears. " Maude, you are less than I," Major Gurney said, hurriedly, when they found the ladies were still un- hurt: " take Mrs. Cornwalhs ; she is the least. Put your arms round Maude's throat, Mrs. Cornwallis, and try your best to keep behind the shelter of the mattress." " I won't leave Bruce," the little woman announced : " you must take him first." "Nonsense : do as we tell you," imperatively. " I won't," sitting down by her huslxmd and taking his hand. " You must," said the major firml}-. " Colonel, will you use your inlluence ? " bending over him tenderly. "Mrs. Cornwallis objects to leaving you, but we wil come back for you, when they are in safety." 128 THE HERO OF THE REGLAIEXT. "Go, my darling," said the colonel faintly, "bnt kiss me first," Yi bent over him to do his bidding, and did what was, perhaps, the best thing she could possibly do under the circumstances — fainted away. " That's better," muttered Greville. "Pick her up, Maude, and run off with her: stay, have your mattress so," tearing a long hole in the cover for the young- man to pass his arm through. " Xow, Floss, trust yourself perfectly to me." " No, no ; I'm heavy," she answered, " I can run, you've no idea how fast ; and I'll slip this long skirt off, and surely between us we can carry Bruce across." " Nonsense ; I must take you myself," he answered. " Well, then, here is the mattress Bruce Avas on when we dragged him out ; let me take that and go by my- self ; I'm not afraid. Oh! Major Gurney, wdiat is the matter with Bruce — is he dead ? " " Fainted," he returned briefly, " all the better for my purpose. If you're not going to take that skirt, I will use it as a sling, and regularly hang him round my neck, so ;" then, havhig slipped the long muslin skirt under the colonel's knees, and tied a knot ready to slip over his head, he turned to Floss : " I must see you off first, darling." " I am ready when you tell me." Major Gurney arranged the mattress to the best THE HEKO OF THE KEGIMENT. 129 advantage, and led lier to the corner. " Floss," lie said, hoarsely, taking her by the hand and bending his face down to hers, " will you kiss me before you go ? and if I get hurt — for I shall have a good weight to carry," looking doubtfully at the unconscious form beside them, " I shall know if you cared or not." " Yes, dear," Floss answered, simply, holding up her face to his. " Xow go," he said, quietly, " go at once." Floss Bannister turned her soft, dark eyes upon his in silence, and, with that one look, ran boldly round the corner, and was lost to view. " Alone ! " cried a dozen eager voices as she gained the opposite verandah. " Why, where's Gurney ? " "Bringing the colonel, "Floss replied, at which poor Yi's tears broke out anew — tears of gratitude those. " Where's Mr. Maude ? " Floss asked, looking round. " Shot in the shoulder : Dr. Moss is attending to him." " All my fault," Yi sobbed. " Hush ! here he is," as Greville Gurney left the shelter of the opposite building, staggering under the heavy weight of the still unconscious colonel, yet keeping to his task bravely, and holding his slender cover as best he could between them and the enemy's fire." " He'll do it ! " cried one. VOL. I. K ]30 THE IIEKO OF THE EEGDIENT. " Somebody run out and help him," said another ; " let me go." " ISTo, no, Jack," cried an anxious -wife, holding him back. " Let him alone," put in another, Avith his arm in a sling ; " he'll manage it best alone." " He's shot ! " Floss screamed ; "I saAV it. Oh ! I tell you, I saw it. I saw liim stagger." " No, no, it was the chief's weight." " I don't know ; he's very shak}'— now — put your hand out; I've only one. Ah! here he is. Bravo! well done! " as the major reached the shelter, and a dozen hands were ready to relieve him of his burden. "Hold up a moment, man, till we get it off," trying, Avith his left hand, to free the major's throat from the muslin sling. " I can't," he gasped, sinking on his knees. " Hollo ! " forgetting his shattered arm in his effort to hold him up ! " You're not hurt, surely ? " " I'm done for," Greville said, faintly ; " did she get in safe ? " Mrs. Cornwallis, with an ingratitude for which she may surely be forgiven, had flown to her husband's side, and left his deliverer unheeded ; but Floss, with a face so white and eyes so filled with pain, that the little group stood aside to let her pass, came swiftly beside him, and lifted his head upon her arm. THE HERO OF THE EEGIMEXT". 131 " I am here," she said, softly ; " the doctor will he Avith us in a moment."' " No use, dear ; it's all up," he gasped : " got a bullet through my lungs." " Don't talk," she said, imperatively. " Make— no difference, and there are some things I must say. Floss, if all this trouble had never been, would my love have been of any good ? Would you have ever loved me ? " For one moment she raised her eyes to the sorrow- ful sympathetic faces round them, then she answered clearly, " If it pleases God to take you from me, I w^ill come to you in heaven — Floss Bannister still." " Thank you, dearest. No, don't touch me, doctor ; no use." " My dear fellow, we cannot tell that till I have looked at you," the surgeon said, kindly. " No use ; it will be over in a minute or two now. Floss, if ever you come across any of the old 52nd tell them I am sorry now I did not make myself more to them ; that I thought of them all kindly at the last." " Yes, I'll tell them," Floss answered, in a strangely far-off sounding voice. " I dare say they've forgotten all the old quarrels noAV," he said, faintly ; then, after a long silence, "Still there, Floss?" VOL. I. K 2 132 THE IlKKO OF THE REGIMEXT. " Still here, darling." He smiled at her words, and felt blindly for her hand. His breathing grew more laboured, his face mjre deadly pale. Then a sudden glad light flooded into his blue eyes, the smile on his lips deepened, and he tried to speak again. But the effort only ended in a crimson stain upon the kerchief Floss held to his lips, followed by a sigh and a shiver, and Greville Ourney lay dead, Avith his face turned up to the brilliant Indian sky, surely one of the grandest heroes that ever Queen or regiment boasted of. And beside him lay Floss Bannister, in the blessed uncon- .sciousness, which sometimes comes to lull our keenest 4igonies, for a little while, to rest. It was months later that Geoffry Maude, writing to Stephen Thorold, gave, at Floss Bannister's desire, Greville Gurney's last message to his old comrades, and Mrs. Stephen, with tears in her soft eyes, read the letter to such of the regiment as had assembled in her drawing room that Sunday afternoon, for tea and chat. It was received in silence, more than one hardy soldier turning away to hide the emotion he was ashamed to show. Alys O'Shaughnassy had hidden her face against her husband's arm, but little Mrs. St. Hilary looked up bravely, though there was THE HEIJO OF THE KEGLAH^NT. 133 an oininuiis glitter of tears in her large eyes, and a l)iteoiis quivering about her mouth. " I always liked him," she said, trying hard to steady her voice, "I always liked him, and I'm sorry I bore malice so long. So are you, Alys, I know ; but he was a gentleman and a brave soldier, and he will have forgiven us. He has come out in his true character — that of a chivalrous hero, and now that he has gone where mistakes and resentment have no ])lace, lie will surely know how deeply we regret him, how any ill-feeling there may have been be- tween him and us is blotted out by the glorious way in which he has shown us all how duty may be done ! " And then the little woman broke into a passionate torrent of tears. THE ORDEAL BY PAINT ; (3K, :\iy FIKST DAY IN THE ]U<:GIMENT. " Here he comes ! " " By gad, so lie does ! Hurrali ! Some sport to- night. " "Looks ratlier pale, doesn't he?" " Yes, and will want a good deal of setting up, loo." "Poor devil! I pity him." As I was not at all atfli(^.ted — in that instance I might have said blessed — with deafness, these were :i few of the remarks I could not help hearing, as I drove up to the officers' mess of the cavaky barracks at Colchester, where I had come to join the regiment, to which I had been gazetted a couple of months before. Quite unwitthigly, I had chosen a very poor time for presenting myself. "Mid-day stables" were just over, and almost all the officers of the regiment were Avaiting about the verandah till luncheon should be ready. They were none of them in very amiable tempers ; for they had just heard in the office that THE ORDE^y:. BY PAINT. 135 a letter had come down for tliem to hold themselves in readiness to march to the autumn manceuvres at Aldershot, and Aldershot is, as most people know, a spot no cavalry officer rejoices to find himself near, even when there are no manoeuvres going on. Anj'thing more uncomfortable than were my feel- ings that morning could not be easily imagined. I had never met my regiment before. I knew none of the men, and I was quite at a loss to know to whom I must address myself. However, I was com- pelled to act ; and stumbling out of the cab, with my heart in my throat and great beads of perspiration breaking out upon my forehead, I stood for a moment while my future comrades inspected me, as if I were a polo pony for sale. My hesitation lasted but an instant. I chose my man, an elderly, rather good-looking officer, with a bald head and well-waxed moustache; so, with a ghastly grin, I blurted out, " I've come to join." " Oh, have you ? " said he, carelessly, and with an expression of intense amusem2nt on his face? "Your name's Winter, I suppose? Oh, all right. Come along ■with me, and I'll introduce you to the colonel. I think you have not met him yet ? " " Xo," I answered, beginning to feel a little more at my ease. 136 THE ORDE.VL BY PAINT. "Wait a moment; 111 just make you acquainted with these fellows first." This terrible ordeal over, I was hustled off by my elderly friend to be presented to the colonel, whom we found sitting in the office with his adjutant making arranofements for the cominsf manoeuvres. "I've brought Mr. Winter to see you, sir. He's come to join," said my guide. " Ah, how are you?" said the colonel. "I'm very glad to see you; for we're rather short of subalterns, and every addition is a great help. Have you got your uniform and that sort of thing ? I hope you'll like 3'our work. Are you fond of riding ? " I answered modestly that I was, but I was afraid my experience in that line was rather limited. As I spoke, a few riding school anecdotes began to crop up in my mind; for, during the two last months, every man I had met seemed to consider it his duty to impress upon me the fact, that a riding-school is neither more nor less than a second inferno. " Brought any hunters down with you ? " " Xo, sir." " Umph ! A pity ! This is a fair hunting district. However, those are little additions easily made, and I've no doubt you'll soon fall into the ways of the regi- ment. You'll find your brother-officers quite ready to help you in anything so far as sport is concerned." THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. ]37 Of a truth I did ; for as soon as it became kno^vn that I Avas anxious to buy a hunter, there Avas scarcely an officer in the regiment who Avas not anxious to sell me one, " perfectly sound, and quite good enough to Avin a steeplechase." My interview Avith the colonel OA'er, I Avas taken by my elderl}^ friend to haA'c lunch. On the AA-ay to the mess-room Ave met an officer, Avho seemed to me A-ery old to be still in the army. " Here's old Muggins, the riding-master," said my guide, Avhom I afterAvards found Avas called " the Fossil," on account of his antique appearance. "Well, Muggins, this is Mr. Winter, just joined." "Ho!" said Mr. Muggins. "Glad to see you. Fond of riding ? Hey ? " I returned the same answer that I had given to the colonel on that subject, and Mr. Muggins grinned — a grin Avhich somehoAv reminded me of a cat play- ing Avith a mouse. "Ho, my boy," said he; don't knoAv much about it, don't you? Well, Ave'll soon tickle you hup a bit. Hey, Moore?" "Yes, I daresay," in rather a bored tone. "Come along, Winter. Beastly old cad, Muggins!" he burst out, as soon as Ave Avere out of earshot. "Ahvays sneaking about and getting the young chaps into trouble, except they happen to be Avilling to bribe him." 138 THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. At lunch I was posted next to a young- subaltern of about six months' service, who, having himself just got over the rough part of joining, thought it his bounden duty to "swagger" over me. He was a babyish-looking, flaxen-haired cornet, with about as much hair on his upper lip as you might find upon that of a boy of twelve. He went — as I very soon heard, in spite of my fright — by the name of "the Bo}^," occasionally varied by that of " the Brat." "Ah ! which is your county?" drawled this young- ster, quite affecting the old soldier. " Devon," said I, trying in vain to swallow a lump of cutlet which had found its way into my mouth ; how, I w\as really too much excited to know, for I was painfully aware every eye in the room was upon me. " Ah ! any hounds down there ? " " Oh yes. I think so," I stammered, being in too much of a "funk" to know, or rather remember, whether there were or not. " Ah ! " said my young cornet ; and there our con- versation ended, and I was thus enabled to hear a little of what was going on at the other end of the room; for two or three fellows, who had finished their lunch, had left the table and were standing in a group on the hearthrug. "I should hke to buy that chap at my valuation. THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. 139 and sell liim at his own," said one. " I'm rather hard up, and a profit might help me a bit." " What a rum wdj the young beggar pronounces his A's ! " said a second, taking no notice whatever of the previous remark. " Ah ! " put in a third, " yes, poor devil ! Probably he's only just learned them." " Not much to look at, is he ? " said the first one, following up his own train of thought. It may easily be imagined that these remarks did not tend to cure my extreme nervousness, which was evidently taken for " swagger." After I had finished, or pretended to finish, some lunch, during which I managed to capsize a tumbler of beer half into my plate and half over the table, I was shown my room by the boy of tender years, who, being junior, was told off to look after me and set me straight a bit. My room proved to be about thirteen feet square by eleven high, and there I found two men busily engaged in unpacking my furniture, which had been sent down from town the day before. Amongst a great number of deficiencies I found I had forgotten to buy sheets for my bed ; but, luckily, one of the men, who was servant to another officer, managed to borrow a pair for me until I could get some sent up from the town. 140 THE OIIDEAL BY PAIXT. Ill course of an hour or two my room was put into something like order ; and, just as the men were leaving, I asked how my luggage had got there, and who had paid for my cab. They told me that they had done so, having rescued my boxes from a lot of young officers, anxious, I daresay, to discover where I had bought my uniform, belts, boots, and, indeed, everj^thing I possessed. In my gratitude for their thoughtfulness I inquired how much they had paid the cabman, magnanimously intending to double it Avhen I repaid them. The price they named, however, entirely precluded the possibility of this ; in fact, it was so large that it Avould, I thought, have been sufficient to buy the cab itself, horse, man and all, out and out. One of the men informed me that he had been ordered to look after me, until I had got a servant of my own, and that he would return at half-past seven to dress me for dinner. As there was only about an hour to spare I sot out some writincj materials and wrote a letter to my father. Then I lay down upon my new bed until half-past seven should arrive. I think I must have fallen asleep, for I remember nothing until I heard a loud " jar-r-r-r-at " at my door. " Come in ! " I cried. " It's half-past seven, sir, and I've brought you THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. 141 some hot water and your uniform ; but I can't find no mess-waistcoat, sir." " The devil ! " I ejaculated, remembering suddenly that my tailor had told me the day before that it still required a little pressing, but should be sent down that night without fail ; a promise he had, of course, taken infinite pains not to keep. " Perhaps I can borrow one for you, sir," suggested Eobinson. '• For goodness' sake, go and try," I said, eagerly. He left on the table a letter, which I immediately opened and found it was an invitation from the colonel and officers of the regiment to dine. Not knowing the custom of the service, I at once set that down as " chaff," and the idea of answering it never once entered my head. In about five minutes Eobinson returned, with a dilapidated article, which I almost failed to recognize as a cavalry mess-waistcoat. " I am not going to put that thing on I " I said, with much indignation. Eobinson, however, assured me that, even if I had it, it would be useless to wear anything better ; for the 400th Foot, who were quartered on the opposite side of the town, were to dine with the 52nd Dragoons that night, and there was sure to be some extra rough Avork going on. 142 THE OKDEAL BY PAINT. When my dressing was complete, I found, as every one does on joining, that my nniform did not fit as it seemed to do in the tailor's shop. My overalls were too loose and baggy, and not high enough in the Avaist. ^ Indeed, it was only by strapping them up till I thought they would crack that I managed to make the top of the overalls and the bottom of the w^aist- coat meet at all. The borrowed waistcoat, too, was so tight and uncomfortable about the neck that I thought if I could persuade anything more solid than soup and champagne to pass down my throat that night, I should be extremely luck3\ At last I Avas ready, and compelled to betake myself off in spite of the utter discomfort I was in. It Avas Avonderful how I missed the tails of my ordinary evening coat ; and I Avent doAvn the steps — one could hardly call them stairs — and along the verandah into the ante-room, feeling as if I had suddenly been transformed into an exceedingly long-legged Manx cat. Here I found a couple of Avaiters busily handing sherry-and-bitters to a room full of officers, some of Avliom, from the difference in their uniform, must, I kncAv, belong to the- 400th. I approached one of the latter, in a very deferential spirit, and had cer- tainly not said a dozen Avords before he remarked " Ah, I suppose you ve just joined ! " THE OEDEAL BY PAI>'T. 143 This Avas a fact Avliieh I was most anxious to conceal, and the same sort of feehng crept over me which I should fancy comes over a man suddenly convicted of theft. I thought further parley with him would be useless, as he Avould be sure to laugh at everything I said, so I left him and sat down in a corner by m3'self until dinner was announced. Being a guest, I was allowed to pass in amongst the first few, and had the pleasure of sitting next Major Silver, a man devoted to hunting, and never haj^py except in the pursuit of that sport or when talking of long runs, hunters, and hounds. Xow, as I wasn't ver}' well versed in that line, we bored each other terribly, and I was glad when he transferred his conversation from me to his right-hand neighbour, and I Avas left alone. I was very tired with unpack- ing ; the dinner Avas so long, and the ready banter and chaff so bcAvildering, that once or tAvice it Avas as much as I could do to keep myself from falling asleep — an achievement Avhich, if I had indulged in it, Avould have probably been attended by ver}^ serious consequencess, and of Avhich, so long as I remained in the army, I should neA'er have heard the end. Happily, hoAvever, dinner could not last all night, and at eleven o'clock the colonel and major, Avith some of the senior 400th guests, rose and Avent into the ante-room. I Avas foUoAving them, at a A'ery re- 144 THE OKDE.VI. CY PAINT. spectful distance, when — wliirr, squash I — against tlie back of my head came an over-ripe orange, which sent me flying, as I thought for a moment, into another world. I turned as quickly as I could to see who had thrown it, but not a man was out of his place, there was not a smile upon a single lip. One of them, however, asked me to come back and have another glass of champagne before I went to bed. So I returned, and had the pleasure of a glass of wine with a man called Burroughes, the senior subaltern, and a wild harum-scarum sort of fellow, as I after- wards found to my cjst. This glass was followed by another and another and another, with first this and then that member of the mess, and, as the order of the night was no " heel-taps," I began to think that the best thing I could do would be to slip away and be off to bed. So five minutes afterwards, little thinking how eagerly my brother officers were awaiting this event, and fondly imagining they were all too much oc- cupied to take any notice of me or my exit, I quietly went to bed. In ten minutes I was sound asleep ; but how long that sleep lasted I cannot say. I only know that I had a terrible dream, for I thought I had fallen into the hyena's den at the Zoological Gardens, and then I awoke. There was such a yelling and shouting and holloaing at the foot of my stairs that THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. 145 at first I feared there must be a fire or something of that sort. I soon discovered that the sounds were approaching ray door with starthng rapidity ; and then, catching the sound of my own name, I knew instinctively that they were seeking me and meant me no good. My first idea was that the best thing 1 could do would be to jump out of bed and slip on a smoking-suit or dressing-gown, and pretend I hadn't been to bed at all ; but, on consideration, I thought I would stick to my bed and feign sound sleep. I was fool enough to imagine that perhaps, if they found me asleep, they might go away. Poor deluded Cornet Winter ! My heart had given a tremendous jump when I first heard them ; and as they came nearer and nearer, so it got higher and higher, until by the time they reached my door it w^as fairly in my mouth. " Has he locked the door? " I heard a voice say. " Yes, rather." " Oh, capital ! " What could that mean ? " Go on, somebody." In two minutes my door gave way, and about a dozen ofiicers came rolling and tumbling over each other into the room. Then a voice, which I recog- nised as Burroughes's, called out, " Winter ! " VOL. I. L 146 THE ORDE.VL BY TAIXT. jNTo reply " Wiuter ! " This time a little louder. Still no answer," " Young devil's sliammiug ; pull liim out. Thereupon one or two seized the bar at the head of my bed, while as many others took hold of that at the foot, and they completely overturned me on to the floor, where I lay quite helpless with fright. Two young fellows immediately lifted me up, and, in spite of my urgent protests, conducted me down- stairs to the ante-room, a prisoner of war, and dressed exactly as I had tumbled out of bed, witli the addition of a pouch-belt and girdle, which they put on over my night-shirt to give me a martial bear- ing, as they termed it. I found that the ante-room table had been completely cleared of the newspapers, which were usually scattered upon it, and five chairs had been placed round it. In front of each were put blue paper, pens, and ink. I grew more and more frightened when I found I was to be tried by court- martial for a great and heinous offence committed against her Majesty. Burrouo-hes did not waste a moment in takins^ his seat at the table as president of the court-martial, and the other four were quickly filled in by junior officers. A sixth was appointed prosecutor ; two THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. 147 were announced as Tritnesses, and three were told off as a guard, one of them being promoted to the rank of corporal of the guard in charge of the prisoner. The charges were then read as follows : 1. Con- duct prejudicial to the maintenance of good order and discipline on the part of John Strange Winter, cornet of the 52nd Dragoons, in having, at Colchester, on the night of the 10th of July, 18 — , gone to bed, whilst several guests, officers of another regiment, remained in the ante-room — it being the duty of John Strange Winter, cornet, to entertain them. 2. Conduct unbecoming a subaltern in going to bed whilst senior officers remained in the ante-room. I was then placed at the foot of the table between my escort, one of whom shouldered a pair of tongs and the other a shovel, while the corporal of the guard was armed with a poker, wherewith he every now and again gave me a dig behind, if I did not stand bolt upright at " attention." I was asked if I objected to be tried by any of the officers whom I saAv at the table, and on receiving my answer in the negative, the oath was read. " You shall well and truly try and determine the case according to the evidence in the matter now before you, so help you Jorrocks, &c. " This was taken in due form, and with the utmost VOL. I. L 2 148 THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. gravity, Handley Cross being, I believe, the book used ; and the trial proceeded. Lieutenant Bates, on being duly sworn, stated f " Sir, at Colchester Barracks, on the night of the 10th of July, 18 — , I saw the prisoner now before the court-martial sneak off to bed about half-past eleven. There were several guests, officers of another regiment, still remaining in the ante-room. I was also present when the prisoner was arrested in his own room." Lieutenant Cavasson, being duly sworn, stated : " Sir, I was in the mess-room when the prisoner went to bed. There were several captains and other senior officers still in the room". This closed the evidence for the prosecution, and the question was put to me, " Have you anything to urge in your defence ? " I told them in a tremulous voice that I really was very tired, that I did not dream I was committing an outrageous offence, and that I wouldn't do it again. Then I was conducted out of the room whilst the court considered its sentence. Whilst w^e were waiting outside, my guards, wdth the witnesses and junior officers, amused themselves and terrified me by relating previous sentences, and wondering what I should get. It was awfully cold waitinir about, for, although it was midsummer and THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. 149 very hot in tlie day, yet, in the small hours of the night, to wait ten minutes in a draughty hall, with no more clothing than a night-shirt and a pouch-belt, is a very different matter. At last we were summoned within, and I was led to my place at the foot of the table. Lieutenant Burroughes broke the silence, " John Strange Winter, you have been found guilty of two very glaring and very heinous offences, and this court has adjudged that you receive two strokes from a birch-rod from every member of the mess now present. I hope it may be a warning to you for the future." This announcement was received by my tormentors with a ringing cheer. I was ready to sink with fright when I saw the birch produced, and rough hands were laid upon me. My guard with the tongs, although apparently the roughest of the lot, whis- pered to me to " hold my jaw, and neither struggle nor cry out ; " and something in the kindly voice told me his advice was good, so I took it. The castigation was mere child's play, except when it came to Borroughes's turn. " Ah, this won't do," I heard him say ; " we shall have the vounsf beg-grar laughino' in his sleeve at us. We really must show him that there is something- like discipline in the regiment." And he certainly did. " Well, come now," said that stern gentleman, 150 THE ORDEAL BY PAINT. when my punishment was over, '• the young one's phicky, at all events." If my brother officers had administered necessary strictness, I certainly could not complain of the way in which I was treated afterward ; for they carried me off into the mess-room, Avhere we found a supper of grilled bones and devilled kidneys, and so forth, spread upon the table. AVhen we had eaten and drunken I was ordered to mount the brass and sing a song. The '* brass " was a square piece of that metal formed by the meeting of the leaves of the table ; and a queer figure I must have cut in my scanty attire. The}' seemed to think so, for they all laughed and cheered heartily. I had the sense to know that a moment's hesita- tion would be fatal to my popularity, and I dashed at once into the first comic song that came into my head. It was the story of a sailor who got cast away upon an island, taken prisoner by savages, Avho appropriated his clothes to themselves, finally marry- ing him to a princess of the blood royal. It was received with uproarious applause ; but, unfortu- nately for me, I did not get to the end without an interruption. I only sang as far as, And there l^hold me standing, A -vraistcoat for my clotheF, A hat and boots, striped red and blue, And a rinir stuck through mv nose, THE OKDEAL BY PAINT. 151 wlieii, to my dismay, I heard a voice suggesting that it would be all tlie better if I were dressed in clia- racter. The idea caught like wildfire — two pots of ]:)aint Avere pr(3duced, whence I know not, and in an incredibly short time I was daubed from head to foot Avith rings of red and blue paint, and again mounted on the brass to linish my song. At last the revelries Avere ended, and I Avas per- mitted to go to my room, thoroughly Avorn out, and half-stifled by the disgusting smell and feehng of the pahit. Luckily I kneAv something of art, and had a big bottle of turpentine with me, Avhich, Avith the help of a palette-knife, brought most of the stuff off. It Avas broad daylight ere I sought my couch ; and when at length I fell asleep, it was only to dream it all over again, and to sing in fancy the chorus of ray song, Jam-see, jee-me, jabber jee hoy ! Jabberee, doree, poree, Hikey, pikey, sikey, crikey, Chilingowoolahbadoree ! 3^ A CHEEUB'S FACE UNDER A FORAGE-CAP. It was just a cherub's face under a forage-cap whicJi met Colonel Cotherstone's angry gaze, as he sat bolt upright in his chair one Saturday afternoon. A cherub's face, smooth and fair, which had as yet not the faintest signs of a moustache ; a face with lan- guishing azure eyes that went straight to Colonel Cotherstone's heart, in spite of liis anger and the popular belief tluit he was in the fortunate possession of a lump of adamant instead of that too frequently inconvenient organ. The scene was the colonel's quarters in the cavalry barracks ta York ; the time, between three and four in the afternoon ; drainatif< personce, Colonel Edward le Gendre Cotherstone, Sergeant-Major McAllister, and Private Edward Jones, F-troop. It was Private Edward Jones who owned the cherub's face, the languishing blue eyes, the long lithe limbs, and, alas, also a bad charac- ter. The description would not have apphed at all to the chief, who was largely-made and stalwart, with a sunburnt, rugged face, and hair plentifully besprinkled with grey. Nor would it have either done for the sergeant-major, who, A cherub's face under a forage-cap. 153 while owning the most irreproachable character, was fat and bald, and moreover did not possess a good feature on his broad red countenance. "Sergeant-major, you can go," said Colonel Cotherstone curtly ; whereupon that personage, having saluted, departed, feeling pretty sure that Private Jones was coming in for a severe wigging, or, as he put it, " The colonel's going to give it 'im proper." But Colonel Cotherstone did not immediately set about the task which he had imposed upon himself. An obstacle, not very often coming between command- ing officers and their troopers, presented itself in the shape of that dainty cherub face, with the fair waving hair and the languishing azure eyes, so like another face that he had known Ions; SL^ioand loved! At last, however, he forced himself to speak. " And how long is this state of thino-s to continue ? " he demanded, sternly. Private Jones maintained a discreet silence, but he shifted his long legs nervously, and lowered his eyes until the colonel could no longer see them. Once their gaze withdrawn from him he w^as able to speak fluently enough. Usually Colonel Cotherstone did not find himself at a loss for words. " Xow, look here, Jones," he said kindly, yet with sufficient firmness to make his Avords impressive, " we 154 A cherub's face under a forage-cap. must have a change. Almost every clay I hear of some fresh misdemeanour, idleness, insubordination, Avork half done or left undone altowther, infringe- ment of rules, absence without leave. What is the end to be ? " Private Jones shot one swift glance at his chief's keen angry face, opened his mouth as if to speak, but ended by remaining silent ; the colonel, however, continued : " By what chain of circumstances you came to enlist, I don't know ; but if you imagined for an instant that your birth would permit you to ride rough-shod over everything, why, you made a mis- take. Because you are a gentleman, because you can speak half-a-dozen languages, because 3'ou have got through your fortune and made an utter fool of your- self, you cannot be excused jour duties or have your misdoings passed over without punishment. I dare- say it's hard for you to be restricted, to obey the non-commissioned officers, to turn out of 3'our bed at five o'clock, to live Avith men of a different rank from your own ; but 3'ou should have considered all that before you brought yourself down to your present position. With your advantages of education, you might get your commission in the course of a few years, and win back the position you have lost ; but whilst your present bad conduct continues, I can do A cherub's face under a forage-cap. 155 nothing for you. I cannot pass you over the heads of men Avho do their duty conscientiously, men whom I can trust. If you do not choose to alter your pre- sent ways, you must mahe up your mind to remain a private always ; there is no favouritism in the army. You have now been five months in the regiment, and those five months you have utterly wasted, always shielding yourself behind the fact that by birth you are a gentleman — by birth and by education. I tell you, sir, those two facts are a disgrace to you, simply a disgrace, instead of a blessing and an honour. As yet I have kept you out of the degradation of the cells ; but I find that punishment by fines is of no avail — the punishment of a fine simply falls upon your mother." Private Jones lifted his face all crimsoned by shamed blushes, and repeated Colonel Cotherstone's conclud- ing words, " My mother, sir ? " " Your mother, sir," returned the chief, sternly. " If you have no consideration for your family, for yourself, for the honour of your old name ; no shame at the contempt of your ofiicers, no dread of what the end of all this will be, does the thought of the mother who bore you never cross your mind ? " The lad turned away in confused silence. " Answer me ! " thundered the chief. 15G A cherub's pace uxder a forage-cap. He spoke then for the first time, spoke iu such a soft drawling voice, that Colonel Cotherstone abso- lutely shivered, it was so like that other voice : " Yes, sir, I do ; only it is so hard," M'ith a heavy sigh . " What is so hard — your work ? " " Xo, sir ; I don't know tliat I find the work so bad. I could always groom a horse well, and the stable-work I soon got used to. And I don't mind the men — they're rough, but they're good-natured, most of them ; but it's the non-commissioned officers — I cant stand them, sir." " Why not ? " " I can do with old McAllister, sir," said tlie lad eagerly, almost forgetting his drawl ; " but the sergeants iu F-troop — Oh Lord I " with another sigh. " K I please one, I displease another. It's having so many masters, and each thinks he has a right to bully me as hard as he likes. Because they've got a few shillings' worth of gold lace on their jackets, I suppose." "Which they have won by their own good con- duct," rejoined the colonel. " I'll tell you what it is, Hamilton : you're a young fool, Avith only a little further to go in tlie direction you're in now, to find yourself at the devil." " You know me, sir ! " the lad gasped. A cherub's face under a forage-cap. 157 "I knew your — people," answered the colonel, curtly. He had almost said " your mother," but changed the word in time to " people ; " " and for your name's sake — not for 3^our own mind — I will give you one more chance. If I move you out of F-troop into Sergeant-Major McAllister's, will you give me your word to try and reform ? " The crimson tide flushed anew over the lad's fair face, a rush of feeling (could that darkness be tears ?) flooded into his azure eyes. He forgot that he was only Private Jones, and that the tall man with the stern bronzed face before him was that awe-inspiring being " the commanding oflicer," Colonel Cotherstone, one of the strictest martinets in the service — he for- got it all. He only remembered that he was Hamilton of Glenbarry, and that this was the first real kindness, except old McAllister's, that he had met with for months. In the impulse of the moment he held out his hand, and said heartily, " I'll try, sir." Colonel Cotherstone just laid his fingers in the out- stretched hand for a moment. " Very well, Hamilton, I'll take your word," he re- plied, gravely. " Now you can go." When the door had closed behind the lad, Colcnel Cotherstone sat down again in his arm-chair and tried to think. But think he could not. A vision of a cherub's face under a forage-cap came persistently 158 A cherub's face uxder a forage-cap. between him and liis tliouglits. Hoav many years was it ago tliat just such a head and face had lingered in his memory ; just such a cherub's face, and under a forage-cap ? And yet there was a difference. The mother's sweet bkie eyes had looked straight into his own, with never a shade of the shame he had seen in those of the son that very day, and the forage-cap from under which the mother's golden curls had strayed bore the gold band of an officer, instead of the simple yellow of the dragoon. He was not altogether easy in his mind, that big bronzed soldier. He knew that, in spite of his stern words, he had treated Private Jones a great deal too easily, else he would not have sent the sergeant-major away. It is not altoo-ether usual for commandinsf officers to talk to refractory soldiers as he had talked to Private Jones, and yet — " Xo," he muttered, " I couldn't be hard on Mary's boy, who came and looked at me with Mary's eyes, and talked to me with Mary's soft tongue. Poor little Mary ! " and straightway his thoughts flew back to the little scene enacted ever so many years ago, and which had been recalled so vividly to his memory that afternoon, a scene of which the principal incident ' was a cherub's face under a forage-cap. Naturally, before Edward le Gendre Cotherstone had obtained his regiment, he had held the respective A CllEEUBS FACE UlsDEE A FOKAGE-CAP. 159 positions of major, captain, lieutenant, and cornet. Well, it was wlien lie was only Cornet Cotlierstone, and but two-and-twenty, that lie was foolish enough to fall in love. At that time the cuirassiers were quartered at Edinburgh, and it was in the modern Athens that he and his fate met. That was one-and-twenty years before the opening of this story, when Colonel Cotlier- stone was forty-three, a first-rate soldier, and, con- sidering all things, fairly popular, though his officers, especially the subalterns, quite believed in a theory, now of many years' standing, which declared him to be minus several important internal arrangements, one of which was a heart, the other being the bowels of compassion. He certainly was very hard. They all vowed he had not a single soft spot in his whole composition, but they w^ere wrong. A soft place he had, and the unruly lad with a cherub's face had been lucky enough to find it out. As I said before, Edward le Gendre Cotherstone was two-and-twenty when he fell in love for the first, indeed the only, time. He was driving along Prince's Street one afternoon, when a small Skye terrier managed to get itself under the horse's heels, and, in addition to that, one of the wheels passed over it. At every period of his life Edward Cotherstone had been as keen as a hawk is popularly supposed to be, IGO A cherub's face U^•DER A FOKAGE-CAP. and a vision of a golden-liairecl girl dressed in bla(d<, who uttered a piteous cry, and put two little black- gloved hands out to rescue the little animal, who was howhng frightfully, caused him to pull up the trap with a jerk, and jump down. "Oh, I am sorry," he said, bending over the little creature, now whining piteously in its young mis- tress's arms. "I am so grieved. I hope it's not much hurt." The girl's blue eyes, half drowned as they were in tears, flashed an indignant glance at him. " Wouldn't you be hurt ?" she asked, bluntly, point- ing to the wheel as she spoke, " if that had gone right over your body ? " " AVhat can I do to help you ? " he asked, wisely ignoring the question. " Can I drive you home? " " I live at Portobello," she answered, helplessly. " Please let me drive you there," he urged. " Let me hold him whilst you get in, and then I'll lay him ever so carefully on your lap." And so he had his own way ; that was a little peculiarity of Edward Cotherstone's. He took the doof from her with the utmost tenderness and without eliciting a single cry ; and when she had mounted into the high trap, he restored it to her gentle keep- ing. On the way down to Portobello he gathered that the young lady's name was Stewart, Mary A cherub's face under a forage-cap. 161 Stewart, and that she lived with her grandmother, who did not often go out. She told him, too, that she was seventeen ; and that Fluff, the injured Skye, had been given to her by her cousin, Hamilton of Glenbarry. She also told him that her father had not been dead many months, and that she had been both to London and Paris. In fact, she was so very communicative, that he thought he knew everything there was to be known about her ; but, notwithstand- ing her apparent candour, there was one trifling circumstance, Avhich, had she mentioned, would have spared hmi many a bitter heartache. She did not mention it, however ! He took her to her home, and sent his trap away, as she wished him to examine and determine the full extent of the dog's injuries. He was introduced to the aged grandmother, Avho took quite a fancy to him by reason of having been at school — goodness knows how many years previously ! — with his great-aunt. She, too, mentioned Hamilton of Glenbarry, and mentioned him, moreover, in a way which did not show that any large amount of love was lost between them. " He does not always behave very respectfully to grandmamma," Mary confided to him, in an under- tone. " He calls her ' old lady,' and she can't bear it." " Confounded cad ! " thought Mr. Cotherstone. They found, upon examination, that Fluff was not VOL. I. M 1G2 A cherub's face u:n'der a eokage-cap. very much the worse for his accident ; and httle Miss Stewart was comforted beyond measure when the young cuirassier assured her that when the bruises had passed off he would be all right again. But of course he called next day to ask after Fluff and ascertain if Miss Stewart had recovered from her fright. He was also remarkably attentive to the old lady, and won her heart as easily as he did that of her granddaughter. For some few months this kind of thing continued. Edward Cotherstone grew more and more happy ; but little Mary faded somewhat, drooped as does a floweret for lack of water and sun- shine. Sometimes she frightened him, she looked so 2:)ale, so wan and fragile ; then again she would brighten when he appeared, and throw him into fresh transports of love and happiness ; and so the pretty play went on until it was played out, for one fine morning in June the crash came. He had gone in for half-an-hour, because he knew Mrs. Stewart would not be visible so early in the day. Mary looked so bright and fresh, that the young soldier was tempted to take her in his arms and kiss her, calling her by every fond endearing name he could think of, telling her over and over again how he loved her, how very, very dearly he loved her, his little Scottish lassie, and a good deal more in the same strain. And Mary, what of her ? She never drew back, never whispered A cherub's face rXDER A FOEAGE-CAP. 163 the faintest hint of that secret which lay between her and him — the secret which once or twice he had almost stumbled upon. JSTo, she clung to him with an almost despairing passion, which made him feel uneasy in spite of his happiness ; she twined her soft arms round his throat, and cried incredulously, " Do you really love me, Eddie ? " " Eeally, my darling," he answered. And then she broke from the clasp of his loving arms almost impatiently, though the love-light still shone in her azure eyes, the dimpling smiles still played about her tender mouth. " I shall try on your cap," she announced, coquet- tishly ; then stuck the golden-bordered little cap on one side of her head, and, turning from the glass, looked at him with passionate love filling her blue eyes, love which she had caught from his. The sound of a carriage stopping without caused her to turn her head, and when she looked at him again the smiles had frozen on her sweet mouth, and a nameless horror had taken the place of the tender light which a moment before was shining in her eyes. " Oh, my darling, what is it ? " the young soldier cried, in sudden affright. " It is Hamilton of Glenbarr}-," she answered, in a hoarse whisper. "What is he to you?" Cotherstone cried, passionately. VOL. I. M 2 164 A cherub's face under a forage-cap. " He is my—" " Your what ? For God's sake speak, and let me know the worst ! " he said, fiercely. " He will be my husband," she answered, in a voice almost inaudible. With almost brutal roughness Cotherstone thrust her away from him, caught up his cap and gloves, and strode out of the house, where he had spent such blissful hours, and where, alas, he had had such a bitter blow — and he never saw her again. The following day came a piteous note of explana- tion — how her father had wished it ; how she had given Hamilton the promise to please her father when he was dying ; how she had not had courage to tell him earlier, because she had never dreamed he could care for her ; how she was very, very unhappy, very — with a great dash under the adverb, and a woeful blister just below — how, though she must keep her promise, she would love her darling Eddie best all her life long. And that was the end of it. A few weeks later he saw the announcement of her marriage in the papers, and then he tore her letter up and set himself to forget her. On the whole he succeeded fairly well. He threw himself heart and soul into his profession, with what result we have seen. He succeeded in making every one, even himself, believe he was a man A CHEKUBS FACE UKDER A EORAGE-CAr. 165 of the consistency of stone ; and yet when Private Jones — brought in to receive a severe lecture, not for one but for a dozen misdemeanours — came and looked at him out of Mary's blue eyes, and talked to him in Mary's soft voice, he could not find it in his heart — his adamantine heart — to be hard upon Mary's boy. The vision of the cherub's face under a forage-cap threw him back with painful distinctness to the time, one-and-twenty years before, when he parted from Mary. He realised, that Saturday afternoon in November, that perhaps he had been very hard upon her, poor little soul ! He might, at least, have stayed and said a few kind words to the poor little woman, who was bound to a man she hated ; that she hated Hamilton there could be no doubt, for the look of loathing and horror which leapt into her eyes as she realised his presence proclaimed her feelings plainly enough. Ah, poor darling — she had got from " poor little soul " to " poor darling " — but he felt now that he had been cruel to her ; he might, at least, have answered that heart-broken, despairing letter, and so perhaps have made her lot less hard to bear than probably it was. Well, at all events, he had not been hard upon the boy, that was one consoling point. Boys will go wrong, especially when they have no father to keep them straight. He had suspected all along who Private Jones really was, though until 166 A cherub's face under a forage-cap. that very afternoon he had not been quite certain. He wondered if a letter to his mother would do any good. She was a widow now, poor soul — Hamilton had been dead ten years, he knew — and naturally she would be glad to know there was some one who took an interest in her only child — that Mrs. Hamilton of Glenbarry had had but one child Colonel Cotherstone was also aware — and certainly if he wrote a few lines she could not take them amiss, and they might be a comfort to her. And so Colonel Cotherstone sat down to his writing- table to pen an epistle to his old love, Mary Stewart, the motlier of that exceedingly wayward young gen- tleman. Private Edward Jones, F-troop, cuirassiers. " She called him after me, too," murmured the com- manding officer of the cuirassiers, as he selected a pen. " Poor little Mary ! " It was easy enough to write " Xov. 14th " under the printed " Cavalry Barracks, York," which was already stamped on the paper, but he found the next part scarcely so easy. His most natural impulse was to begin, " My dear Mary ; " yet, when he had written it, he thouo-ht it too familiar, so took another sheet. Having put another " November 14th " at the top, he began, "My dear Mrs. Hamilton — " "What shall I say next?" he said aloud. It took hinj a long time to write that letter ; but A cherub's face under a forage-cap. 167 at last lie accomplished it. It was not very long, and it was rather stiff. It ran : Mv Dear Mrs. Hamiltox, I have only this aftei'noon discovered that your son has enlisted in the cuirassiers under the name of Jones. He has been five months in the regi- ment ; and though as yet he is impatient of restraint, I am in hopes that we shall make a good soldier of him, and, in the course of a few years, that he will obtain his commission. Any interest of mine, you may be sure, he will not want. Eelieve me, my dear Mrs. Hamilton, Most faitlifuUy yours, Edward Le Gendre Cotiierstone. That was the letter he wrote and sent. Three days passed, during which he received no reply — a fact which Avorried him somewhat. On the fourth day, however, he received a note, by hand, from Mrs. Hamilton; asking him to call and see her at the " Black Swan Hotel." He happened to be just going out when the note reached him, so he thrust it into his pocket — not without a certain feelincf of tenderness at the sisjlit of the dainty delicate characters— and took his way into the town. He did not go very quickly, though ; he called at the florist's half-way, and bought a flower for his button-hole — a white rosebud it was. He met some people that he knew, and stayed to chat with them. But, dawdle as he would, he came to the hotel at last. Every one who has been in York knows that it is not very far from the cavalry barracks to the 168 A cherub's face under a forage-cap. " Black Swan." ColoDel Cotlierstone went into the hall and asked for Mrs. Hamilton. " Was Mrs. Hamilton at home ? " " Certainly. AVould the gentleman step this way?" And so they led him up-stairs and ushered him into a room, where, seated by the fire, was a lady — a lady with wavy golden hair, with soft blue eyes, and two little white hands outstretched to greet him— his old love, Mary Stewart. " How am I to thank you ? " she cried. " I have tried for all these five months to find out what my boy was doing. I couldn't persuade him to come home, and I have been so unhappy about him," " Has he^mever written to you ? " " Oh yes ; every week regularly. But I did not know that he was in York. His letters came from London ; and the only address was a London post- ofFice. He said he was not in prison, but he couldn't tell me any more." " No, he has not been in prison," Colonel Cother- stone answered, smiling, as he thought of the near shaves he had had in that respect. " I didn't quite understand your letter," said Mrs. Hamilton presently. " Why should he be ashamed of the profession he has taken up — too much ashamed A CHEEUC'S FACE L'XDER A rORAGE-CAP. 1G9 even to tell me what it was ? Why should he have any restraint placed upon him ? Have the other officers so much restraint ? " " My dear Mrs. Hamilton, your son has enlisted,^^ said the colonel kindly, Avondering at her ignorance. "How enlisted?" " He is not in my regiment as an officer," he said. " What ! My boy a common soldier ? " " A private," corrected Colonel Cotherstone, gently. " Yes, that is what he is." " M}^ boy," cried the little woman, brokenly, " my boy, Hamilton of Glenbarry, a soldier ! Does he have to groom a horse, pray ? " " C-ertainly." " And to do stable-work ? " " Yes." "Does he have to salute you?" " Of course." In spite of himself a smile broke over his face. " I hope that is not very hard for him." " Not to you," she said, impatiently. " No one would mind saluting you, of course ; but the others ! Y^ou don't mean to say he is obliged to put his hand up so " — with a ludicrous imitation of a salute — " to all the young subs., to the riding-master even ?" " He certainly has to do so," answered the colonel. 170 A cherub's face under a forage-cap. " Hamilton of Glenbarry salute, touch his hat to a riding-master!" ejaculated Mrs. Hamilton. "I tell you it is absurd, utterly absurd ! " " Whilst he remains in the ranks it must be done," said the colonel, smiling still at her vehemence. "Then he shall not remain in the ranks," she cried. "How soon can I have him released?" " Will you take my advice," he asked, " and leave him for a few months, or until I advise you to buy him off?" "You would do what is best for me?" the widow faltered. "You know I would," touching her hand for a moment. That was a great advance for Colonel Cotherstone ; but the old influences were strongly at work in him. " I don't know why you should be so good to me," she said, rather forlornly. " I behaved very badly to you, and yet — " " Yet what? " drawing nearer and taking her hand. " I was so unhappy," she said, simply. They were both standing on the rug : he, a large, fine, upright figure in grey tweed ; she, a dainty thing in purple velvet, looking absurdly young to be the mother of Private Jones. " Why were you unhappy, and when ? " he asked, possessing himself of the other hand. A cherub's face uxder a forage-cap. 171 " When you went away ; and — and because — I—" " Well ? " he asked, eagerly. " Because you — " " Because I loved you so," she said, hiding her face upon his breast. If Colonel Cotherstone's dream of love was rudel}' interrupted one-and-twenty years before, when, on that June morning, Hamilton of Glenbarry turned up so inopportunely, he made up for it when he found his little love in the hotel with the sign of the " Black Swan " at York. It would be hard to say who was the most surprised at the event which followed, or rather at the announcement of it. I doubt Avhether the officers, when, the next evening after dinner, their chief announced that he was going to be married, were as thoroughly surprised as was Xed Hamilton, when, a free man again, he entered his mother's room at the " Black Swan '' ; and I am perfectly certain that his astonish- ment did not equal that of his mother when she found how faithfully Edward Cotherstone had loved her all those years. Perhaps the most thoroughly amazed of them all was Colonel Cotherstone himself. To the intense amusement of the whole regiment, his wife calls him " Eddie." The young ones say that he grew tired of having no heart, so managed to f^et his brains exchansfed for one : but if one of them 172 A chekub's face under a eokage-cap. goes a little wrong in duty or any other respect, he very quickly finds out that the chief's brain is as keen as ever it was in the days when he was popu- larly believed to be altogether deficient in certain internal arrang-ements, of which a heart Avas one. ''^%m-- CALCEAFT— A TEOOPEE. The Cotlierstones had been married a few months, and were Hving at a pretty house in tlie vilhage of Fulford, which hes about half-a-mile bej^ond tlie cavalry barracks at York. Mrs. Cotherstone was standing at the window of the dining-room, watching for her husband, and, at the same time, taking notes of the interesting process of putting a horse into a cab belonging to the inn opposite. Very slow about his job the man was ; the straps seemed to get wrong as each one was fastened. The horse was not particularly anxious to expedite the work, and kept shifting his position every moment, at v\'hjch proceeding the man ex- pressed his disapproval in a series of " gee-whoops " and " gerrup-ma-lads," of which the animal took but small notice. Then he went inside the inn, for a glass of beer evidently. Mrs. Cotherstone was dis- gusted. She could, she felt, have put that horse in and been at the house to which it had been ordered in less than half the time that it had taken the man to fasten one strap. She wondered if it was wanted 174 CALCRAFT A TROOPER. to catch a train ? It couldn't be for a wedding — it was after one o'clock ; then, but to be sure, it might be wanted for a funeral ! She drummed her little fingers impatiently upon the window-ledge, and wondered indignantly how much longer that man was going to be drinking that glass of beer ? Why, she could have drank half-a-dozen glasses of beer in that time, she was convinced, though Mrs. Edward le Gendre Cotherstone was not given to beer ! Then a divertissement fortunately came, in the shape of a tall, soldierly figure, in undress, carrying a whip in one hand — a man with a stern bronzed face, having, just then, a most pre-occupied expression. It cleared, however, as he perceived the golden-haired little lady at the window, much as a thunder-cloud disperses before the genial influence of the sun, but not before she had noticed the unwonted darkness. " What is the matter, Ned ? " she asked, as he entered the room. " Oh! nothing particular, my darling," he answered ; " it is only that poor devil, Calcraft, again." " Again?" the little woman echoed, blankly ; "and after you gave him such a talking to ? " Her tone implied that since the colonel had taken the trouble to give Calcraft a " talking to," his gratitude ought to have induced him, from that time forth, to become a model of good conduct and amiability. CALCRAFT A TROOPEE. 175 " It isn't all his fault," said the colonel ; " but he is quick-witted and sharp-tongued — the two qualities often go together — and, somehow, he has contrived to get out of his sergeant-major's good graces ; you know what that means ? " " Bullying, I suppose? '' "Bullying is rather a mild general term for it," Colonel Cotherstone answered. " In detail it means nagging, continual fault-finding, swearing at, report- ing — that is one side. On the other it means, never doing right, always doing wrong, always being late, never being clean enough, everlastingly breaking or infringing rules, being perpetually goaded to the verge of madness, being taunted, scorned, made nothing of; and, like a boil, matters generally come to a head — they have come to a very decided head in Calcraft's case, poor devil." "Well? " said Mrs. Cotherstone, in a tone implying that he was to continue his story. " He is rather a favourite of Dickson's — he is in Dickson's troop, you know. He has looked after him as well as he could ; but what can an officer do under such circumstances ? Next to nothing ; and this morning the crash has come. Sergeant-Major Lucas and his wife live at the end of a verandah, which Calcraft has to pass every morning with a big bucket of cold water, and, being an awfully hot- 176 CALCRAFT A TROOPER. night, tliey had left their window wide open. It seems that this morning Lucas hadn't turned out so early as he ought to have done, not by an hour or more, and as Calcraft passed along the verandah with his bucket of water, some fiend whisj)ered into his ear that the water was very cold, that the window was wide open, and that the Lucases' bed stood im- mediately beneath it. Of course it was all done in a moment, and Calcraft took to his heels, and then there seems to have been a royal row. Calcraft, the usual scrapegrace, Avas accused, and was marched off to the cells, poor beggar, to await a trial by court- martial. However, there's one thing I can and will do ! I can't save Calcraft, but, by George, I'll be down upon Lucas for being late." "Can't you get Calcraft off?" Mrs. Cotherstone asked in a voice choking with laughter, and wiping the tears from her eyes as she spoke. "Utterly impossible," he returned, decidedly; "a court-martial must go by evidence, not by private favour." " I shall give him a sovereiirn for himself, when I see him," Mrs. Cotherstone announced. If anyone had made such a startling proposal to Colonel Cother- stone a year previously, he would have positively jumped off his seat with horror, and expressed his opinion that such a proceeding would infallibly send C.SXCRAFT A TEOOPER. 177 the service to the dogs in no time ; but on the pre- sent occasion he merely possessed himself of one of Mary's little deUcate hands, and, with an indulgent laugh, told her she must keep her doings to herself. " Don't let me know anything about it, for it won't do to have it said that I encourage insubordination in the regiment." Some of my readers may have seen the interior of a barrack-cell. Such will know that they are not pleasant places. Those who have never entered one must take my word for it ! Private Calcraft knew them well, and each experience he had of them he found them less to his taste. During that brilhant summer-day he sat pondering over the fate w^hich had led him into disfavour with Sergeant-Major Lucas. How was it that he hated him so ? He was quite sure he had never done anything to merit it: no one else in the whole regiment hated him as Lucas did. I cannot say that he Avas particularly repentant for what he had done, and there was not a shadow of doubt that he Avas the culprit, though as yet he had maintained a stolid silence upon the subject ; but he found the confinement of his cell irksome, and he would like to have heard what his comrades Avere saying about his exploit, Avhich Avould, he kneAv, be on every tongue in the barracks. Well! he should get it "proper," as he put it, for this VOL. I. N 178 CALCRAFT A TROOPER. business, lie had no doubt. They were sure to be pretty hard upon him, he so often got into trouble, and of course they would take the sergeant-major's account before his ; not that he had any account to give. He had, as yet, kept quiet, without attempting any explanation, and he thought that would be the best course to adopt, whatever came of the affair ; besides, what had he to say ? He leant forward, with his elbows on his knees, and watched a ray of sunshine, which had had suffi- cient bad taste to Aveary of the outer world and penetrate, by Avay of a change, into the cell. Calcraft was very glad to see the sunbeam, though it seemed to him that it couldn't have very much sense to conn? in there, when it might have stayed outside and be free, and then he fell to wishing that he, too, was free. He wondered how it was that he had borne th(3 tyrant's tyranny so long. Many a man would have made a bolt of it, and trusted to luck that he didn't wake u|) some fine morning to find himself branded with the letter which would be a shame to him as long as he should live, even to his grave. But no! After all, he Avouldu't be such a mean-spirited coward as that. He had fought on for five years, and, come what might, he would fight on a bit longer. Maybe Lucas would be leaving the regiment, or dying, or somethino; of that sort, and then see if he didn't show CALCRAl'T A TROOPER. 179 his officers that he had some good in him, after all! He could just fancy the kindly approval in Captain Dickson's keen blue eyes when he won a good con- duct stripe, or was made corporal ! Aye ! He would keep up his ]^)luck for a while longer, and try if matters wouldn't mend a bit. Just as he arrived at this satisfactory conclusion, the door of the cell opened, and the object of his thoughts appeared — Captain George Dickson. Calcraft jumped up from his bench, and Captain Dickson sat down upon it. " Well ! you've made an awful mess of it this time, Calcraft," he observed. "Yes, sir," returned Calcraft, with a salute. "It's no use trying to keep you straight," the officer observed, testil3^ " I shall have to give you up altogether." Calcraft made no repty ; hitherto he had exulted much over his exploit, but since it was to cost him the kindliness of his captain, he began to look at it in quite another light. "And, by-the-bye, Calcraft," said Captain Dickson, suddenly, "what the dickens were you doing in the verandah at five o'clock?" " Wasn't there, sir," he replied, promptly. " Sergeant-Major Lucas says it was striking five as the bucket of water came through the window." VOL. I. N 2 180 CALCRAFT— A TROOPER. "Then it couldn't be me as threw it, sir," said Calcraft, solemnly, " for, when five o'clock struck by Fulford church, I was standing just outside the door of F-troop room, with Piivate Wells and Corporal Fraser — as they'll both tell jow, sir." "Fll look into the matter," answered the captain, rising ; " and, Calcraft, if you should be lucky enough to get over this business, just let it be a warning to 3'ou." "I will, sir," he said, earnestly enough, but whether some expression in his captain's eyes upset his gravity or not I cannot say, only at that mo- ment his solemn red face relaxed, and the hearty laughter came bubbling up to his lips : it might be at the remembrance of the douche-bath, which he had so successfully administered to his enemy, and, as he dared not laugh outright, his feelings found a vent in a violent fit of coughing, and Captain Dickson beat a hasty retreat ; perhaps he Avished to laugh in comfort out of Calcraft's sight. In due time Calcraft was brought before the court- martial. The sergeant-major told his story glibly enough ; in truth, there was not very much to tell. " On the morning of the 10th of July he was in bed, the window Avas open at the top, the church clock at Fulford struck five — he was perfectly sure as to the time, because he had compared his watcli CALCRAFT — A TROOrER. 181 with it: just as he haid the watch down a bucketful of water was emptied through tlie window over the bed ; he could not see the face of the man who did it, but he saw the hands ; he could positively swear to their being the prisoner's hands ! " So ended the case for the prosecution. Sergeant- Major Lucas retired with a well-satisfied smile at Calcraft, who returned it with a defiant stare. Then — greatl}' to the sergeant-major's astonish- ment — appeared two witnesses for the prisoner, Cor- poral Fraser and Private Wells, who both deposed positively to the truth of Calcraft's statement, that, at five o'clock on the morning of the 10th of July, he was standing with them at the door of F-troop room. Corporal Fraser also deposed that the prisoner was not out of his sight until after half-past live. Accord- ingly Calcraft was acquitted ! Xow Calcraft had made Captain Dickson a distinct promise that, if he should be lucky enough to get over the afiair, it should be a warning to him ; therefore immediately he found himself a free man he at once proceeded to break it. First of all, he informed the non-plussed sergeant-major — who, to save himself from censure for being late, had set the time back a whole hour, and so enabled Calcraft to get off scot-free — that the way to catch a bird was by putting salt on its tail, for which 182 CALCEAFT^A TROOPER. valuable information he did not even deign to thank him. Finding that had no effect, Calcraft, like an idiot — as most soldiers are when left to themselves— occu- pied himself for a week in taking every available opportunity of passing along the verandah, in which his enemy's room was situate, singing at the top of his voice the refrain of a little song — The old old story was told again, At five o'clock in the morning ! Finally he brought matters to a climax by asking if he and "the Missis" had found the water very cold? Flesh and blood could stand it no longer. The sergeant-major went to Captain Dickson, and reported that Calcraft had owned to throwing the Avater ! Calcraft denied it, and repeated what had really taken place. Lucas held to his story, and eventually Calcraft's patience — of which he had not at any time a very large stock — gave way, and, in spite of his officer's presence, he rushed at his enemy, and administered a sound drubbing ! That was fatal ! There was the tedium of another court-martial : the thrashing — and it w\as a sound one— counted for a good deal, and the provocation and the bullying, on the other hand, Avent for next to nothing. Calcraft received the longest sentence Avhich could be given to him, also the prison-crop, and was heard no more of until he was once more free. CALCRAFT — A TROOPER. 183 August and September slipped aAvay quickly enougli to most people, but very slowly indeed to poor Calcraft, in his durance vile. The longest period, hoAvever, must come to a close, and the darkest night end in morning. His term of imprisonment did come to an end, in time ; but as to his night of troubles ending in the morning in • peace and quietness, why, that was quite another matter. Calcraft thought his trials and difficulties grew denser. At first he tried hard to keep straight, for he knew if he could but rise to the rank of corporal, his enemy's power would be considerably lessened ; but, try as he would, it seemed quite impossible for him to succeed. The glorious autumn days passed by, each one finding hiuL sunk a little deeper in the slough of despond, eack one leaving him a trifle more wretched than the last,, and more passionately desirous of lying down to die- in peace. Yes ! it had come to that. He had begun, to look back to the long, dreary weeks he spent im the cells as a time Avhen he had known what it was to have peace and rest. He felt himself a disgrace to his regiment, yet they would not let him do any better, and he did try ! He fancied — for he had grown morbidly sensitive of late — that when his officers passed him they looked at him Avith scorn — all fancy, poor fellow, for they never looked at him at all, or bestowed a second thought upon him, though 184 CALCRAFT A TROOrEIl. " Calcraft, poor devil," was tlieir usual way of speak- ing of him when they did mention him, and most of them hated Lucas as much as they pitied his victim. Still a contemptuous pity was not calculated to im- prove the state of a man on the verge of madness, as Calcraft at that time was ; and had it not been for two persons, he would not have borne up as long as he did. Those two persons were the colonel's golden-haired, gentle little wife and Captain Dickson. For them both Calcraft, in his utter misery, conceived a passionate .-adoration. First in his poor tormented heart he held the lady. She had carried out her intention, which she had announced to her husband, and, on the first opportunity, had given Calcraft a sovereign, which he, poor chivalrous fool, had had a ring put through, and slung it to his watch-chain ; and whenever she met him her gentle " Good mornhig, Calcraft," fell upon his ear with such an accustomed sweetness that he could have flung himself down and kissed her very feet, in gratitude for the kindness which cost her nothing, but which, to him, was the one ray of sunshine which brightened his lot. Xo, not quite the only ray ; he had forgotten Captain Dickson. Towards the end of November Captain Dickson's servant died, and he chose Calcraft to fill his place. Then his troubles lightened somewhat, for he was necessarily less in his enemy's power; but, unfortu- CALCRAFT — A TROOPER. 185 nately, the partial reprieve had come too late — the evil had gone too far, and he was unable to shake off the effects of the past five years and the continual ill- treatment he had endured — the shame and degrada- tion M'hich had been thrust upon him during the past few months. Things had gone badly enough with him since the day he joined the regiment ; but until that fatal July morning when he had succumbed to the voice of the fiend, which prompted him to pour a pail of water over Mr. and Mrs. Lucas, he had gone on his careless way, almost unmindful of anything his enemy might do to torment him. His long term of imprisonment he had endured with a considerable amount of cheer- fulness and pluck, expressing his opinion to more persons than one that the thrashing he had adminis- tered was well worth the after-consequences. Alas ! he had not at that time counted upon what was to follow ! — it surpassed even his ideas of what bullying meant, and he had had considerable experience in that respect, as has been shown. If he had gone inttD Captain Dickson's service immediately after his release from the cells he might have been able to carry out the good resolutions he had formed during his confinement : as it was, the partial reprieve came too late ; his spirit was cowed utterly, liis aspirations after something nobler were crushed, his courafje 186 CALCRAFT A TEOOPER. gone ! The very appearance of the man was changed ; his fearless bUie eyes had accjuired a wild unsettled expression, and he seldom looked any one straight in the face ; his face, Avhich had once been of a healthy red, had faded to a sickly pallor, and the flesh had fallen away from his cheeks. He had lost the care- less, swaggering gait Avhich had once distinguished him and now seemed to have no energy for anything but sauntering — no, trailing is a better w^ord — trailing about the quaint narrow streets, taking no notice of man, woman or child. If Captain Dickson happened to be out or was dining at mess he did not even do that, but stayed in his room — which he had leave to do — being sure there of peace and quietness. The winter days crept on, and Calcraft's spirit sank lower, his despondency increased, his face grew paler, and his air more dejected. Just before Christmas he got a kick from a horse, which laid him up for a fortnight in hospital. A year before he would hardly have noticed it, but, in his weakened state of body and mind, the trifling accident proved more serious ! Not that he minded it : he had a happy time of it in hospital. The doctor always had a pleasant, cheery word for him ; the nurses, if rough, were kindly, and treated him just the same as the others ; his master went across to see him every morning, and lent him more books and papers than his poor dazed eyes CNXCRAFT A TROOPEE. 187 could bear to read, and, greatest of all the little pleasures which fell to his lot, Mrs. Cotherstone herself sent him a basket of grapes and oranges on Christmas morning, which threw the poor fellow into a perfect fever of anxiety, until he had despatched a note of grateful thanks, which, if he had but known it, brought the scalding tears into the gentle little •\^'oman's soft eyes ! Oh ! those grapes and oranges ! it s€:emed like desecration to eat them. Willingly woidd Calcraft have kept them, like the sovereign on his watch chain, as precious relics ! But at last this pleasant time came to an end and he was pronounced well enough to resume his duties. So he had to turn his back upon his pleasures, and go back to the old routine. He found, to his utter dismay and horror, that Captain Dickson was going on leave for tv\'o months and could not take a servant with him. Oh ! the agony the news caused to Cal- craft's heart. Oh ! the bitter, bitter disappointment and dread ! He took the news quietly enough, for his master was rather late and in a hurry to be dressed ; but when the long process was finished, and he had gone clanking along the echoing corridor and down the stone steps, Calcraft flung himself down upon the bed, and burying his face among the pillows, broke into such a passionate torrent of tears, that the private's 1S8 CALCKAFT A TROOPER. wife who kept the room tidy, happening to come in at that moment, stood stock-still in the doorway, absolntely aghast. Her womanly instinct, however, impelled her to make some effort to comfort him. " What's up, Galcraft ? " she asked, advancing to the bed, and laying a hand — which, if coarse and work-worn, was kindly — upon his head : " is there something else gone wrong ? I wouldn't take on so about it if I vras you — though I"m sure, poor chap, it do seem never-ending." She was a good-hearted woman, and she meant to do kindly ; yet, if she had quietly gone away and left him to sob the cobwebs out of his brain his agony might have passed ; as it was, he jumped up and rushed out of the room, stung afresh by the shame of having been discovered in tears by a woman. He never stopped to think ; he tore across the barrack-square and out of the gates, though the sentry asked if anything was amiss as he passed. Galcraft never heard him ! On he sped, seeing nothing for the blinding tears which filled his eyes, hearing nothing for the agony throbbing in his brain. On he went ! along the path leading through the drill-held, unaware that Captain Dickson had flung himself off his horse, and, followed by half-a- dozen dragoons, had started in pursuit with a cry of " Great God ! the river ! " Galcraft never heard CALCRAFT A TROOPER. 189 or saw anything save that broad stream shining through the trees at the other end of the drill- field — the river, where he might find what he had been seeking so long, a haven of forgetfulness and peace ! Ah ! the yell which rose up from the on-lookers as the tall figure sprang headlong into the water, followed, an instant later, by the ofiicer and a young private, who had been Calcraft's friend ! There was just one moment of suspense before the captain's dark, close-cropped head appeared above the bank, and then that of the private as they dragged the poor fellow on to the walk. Colonel Cotherstone just reached the walk as Cap- tain Dickson gave Calcraft's arm an angry shake. " What are you thinking of, you d d idiot ? " he asked, indignantly. Calcraft looked at his preserver in a blank, dazed kind of way. " You'd best have let me finish it, sir," he answered, indistinctly, and then fainted away ! " Dash me ! " said the young private, wiping the water from his face — there might have been a few tears there, too — " Dash me, if I ever saw anything like that ! " "Here, some of you get him up to the hospital at once," ordered the colonel ; " and you, Captain Dickson, the sooner you get those wet clothes ofi" 190 CALCRAFT A TROOPER. the better ; you, too, Johnson : you have acted with great bravery, but there is no need to have rheu- matic fever as a consequence." " I'll tell you what you shall do," said little Mrs. Cotherstone, when she heard the story a few hours later ; " you shall buy his discharge — don't you call it so ? — and give him to me." " But what wdll you do with him ? " " Make a butler of him," was the prompt reply. For many weeks, though, it seemed as if Calcraft w^ould have no need of interest or of anything else in tliis world. He lay on his bed in the hospital, raving in brain fever, and, when at last that left him, the doctors found the prostration and weakness almost worse to deal with than the fever had been. But they brought him round after all, or perhaps, as Dr. Markham declared, the medicine which did him most good was when Mrs. Cotherstone went to see him, and asked if he would like to leave the army and enter their service as a butler. " But I don't know anything of the work, ma'am," he stammered, though the pleased flush on his poor worn face showed how intense was his delight at her proposal. CALCRAFT A TROOPER. 191 " But you can learn," she answered, decidedly ; and so poor Calcraft's future was settled. He progressed with amazing rapidity after that, and, in order to complete the cure, Mrs. Cotherstone sent him to her Scotch place for a month, where, as he himself said, he was almost too happy to live. Xot very long after this Mrs. Cotherstone presented her lord with a son and heir. Oh ! that child ! How in the years which followed Calcraft worshipped him. No service which the youngster exacted was too difficult for Calcraft to perform ; to him the boy's wishes and commands were law, absolute as " the laws of the Medes and Persians, Avhich altereth not I" All the passionate gratitude wdiich the mother had raised in him he lavished upon the boy, and the sweetest music that ever rang in his ears was when the tender, imperative child's voice sounded through the house, with the word which Avas oftenest upon his lips — that word was " Cal cwaft ! " THE ^^CTOEIA CEOSS ; WHY MAJOR CEEYKE DID NOT "WIN IT. It was midwinter. The afternoon of a dull December day was draAving to a close, and as yet the lamps were not lighted in the drawing-room of the house which the Cotherstones called home. A blazing fire, however, lighted up the room sufficiently for little Mrs. Cotherstone to study the pages of a book which she held in her hand. The colonel sat opposite, tired out by a hard day's work, and more than half asleep. The boy, now nearly a year old, was on the rug between them, holding a court-martial on his father's boots, occasionally pricking himself with the spurs, and making his tiny hands excessively dirty, his hands and his little embroidered frock. " Ned," remarked the colonel's wife, apropos of nothing, " I've been looking in the Army List.'" " Eh, Avhat, my darling ? " suddenly rousing him- self into an upright position. " I've been looking in the Army List,'' she repeated. " Oh, is that all ? I thought something had hap- pened to the boy," sinking back in his chair again. Eeminded of the bov, Mrs. Cotherstone looked THE VICTORIA CROSS. 193 down, and, seeing his occupation, uttered a scream (»f disgust, which the child quickly echoed by a loud crow of delight. " Dir-ty boy ! " cried Mrs. Cotherstone, in energetic staccato tones ; " such a mess he's in. Eing the bell, Ned dear, please." The colonel did as he was told, and a moment later our old friend Calcraft appeared, looking quite ir- reproachable in his faultless evening attire. " Take him away, Calcraft," cried the little lady ; " he has made himself so dirty with Colonel Cother- stone's boots." As Calcraft advanced, the child put out two dimpled arms to him, and expressed his satisfaction in a series of " Boo-o-o-o-'s." " How fond he is of the child ! " said the colonel's wife, as the door closed. " Yes," answered the colonel ; he was rather sleepy. " I've been looking in the Army List" Mrs. Cother- stone announced for the third time, " and I cannot find anywhere that Major Creyke has the Victoria Cross." " Of course not," returned the colonel, with a laugh. " But he has it." " Certainly not." VOL. I. 194 THE VICTORIA CROSS. " But they always call him ' Y.C. Creyke,' " she said, ill a mystified tone. " It is only a nickname, child ; " he often cahed her "child," though she had a son of age. " However did he get such a name ? Oh, I am so disappointed, Ned. I have been fancying all sorts of bravery ; and now it has gone." " Oh, he has bravery and pluck enough ; you need not be disappointed," he answered. " He gained the name out in the Mutiny, though he did not win the Cross itself." " And how was it ? " she asked, with deep interest. " Well, I can only give you the merest outlines of the story," he said, " for it's a good while ago, and my head was in a state of confusion for a loilg time after that awful business had been cleared up. Creyke's father and mine were, from their earliest boyhood, upon terms of the closest friendship ; their fathers had been the same before them. My father owned the Hall ; Creyke's father w\as rector of the parish. Well, Creyke was only a year younger than I was, and somehow we fell into the same line as our fathers and grandfathers had done before us, and our friendship was, I really believe, more passionate and tragically inclined than even their's. We w^ere lucky enough to get into the same regiment, and we were so silly as to get sent to India, soon after which THE VICTORIA CROSS. 195 the Mutiny broke out ; it was ju.^t after you Avere marriecl, Mary." "Yes," she replied, " but the regiment did not go." "No. The 7th Lancers were short of subalterns, having lost several by cholera or misadventure, and I volunteered to go ; they wanted tAvo. Of course Creyke insisted upon going too, though his father and mine came down to us, and did their best to persuade us not to go. It was no good. I had made up my mind, and Creyke's mind was mine ; so we went. It was all very jolly at first : we liked India, and there was any amount of splendid sport. We liked the regiment, and Colonel Cornwallis was a down-right good sort, with the sweetest, prettiest little wife you ever saw. The fellows used to fight almost as to whether Mrs. Cornwallis or her sister. Miss Bannister, was the lovelier. For my part I admired the colonel's Avife the more of the two — I always did like fair Avomen best : Miss Bannister Avas very dark. It Avas no good any of the subalterns looking at her, for the major Avent out in the same ship Avith her, and made matters safe ; though I don't think they Avere engaged. Well, the Mutiny broke out, and then Ave found A\diat tAvo splendid Avomen they AA^ere ! They had ahvays been admired, but after the siege began they Avere simply idolised. Hoav they Avorked ! Nothing seemed too hard for them : they cooked and Avashed and VOL. I. 2 19G THE VICTORIA CROSS. nursed until they were fairly worn out, always cheer- ing us on, alwa^^s ready in any emergency ; they seemed to shrink from nothing. Mrs. Cornwallis made no distinction ; it might be the sick baby of an officer's Avife or of a private soldier, it was all the same to her ; and as for Floss Bannister, I believe any man in the garrison would have walked straight into the enemy's lines at a word from her. Well, towards the end, Major Gurney was killed, and we thought the shock had killed her too ; but, an hour after we had buried him, she went her rounds as usual. I never shall forget that night ! Creyke and I were on duty together at one of the outposts, with one gun and perhaps a dozen men. We could see the black brutes moving about, but we couldn't hit them. " ' I've had two shots at one of those black fiends,' I heard one fellow growl to anotlier, ' and I've missed him both times.' " ' I don't expect we'll have no luck, since Miss Floss has given up comin' — not that we can expect it of her, the darlin' ; ' for I must tell you she had been accustomed, in spite of her pressure of work inside the garrison, to visit the outposts every hour or so, ever since the chaplain died. At his death she took up his work where he left it, poor chap, and she stuck to it bravely right up to the time of the major's death. Every hour or so slie used to come. Some- THE VICTOEIA CROSS. 197 times she sang a hymn, or read a few words, or just said the Lord's Prayer ; if a soldier's wife was ill, and he couldn't get off duty to see her, he might trust Miss Floss to bring him news half-a-dozen times a-day. Well, after the major was killed, we never expected to see her again ; for it had been a terrible blow for her, and they carried her away from his poor body in a dead faint. We hadn't been back long from the funeral, and just as the trooper ended, 'we can't expect it of her, the darlin',' she appeared. " ' You ought not to have come,' Creyke said to her, reproachfully ; ' no one expected it of you, after such a shock as you have just had.' " ' My duty is to the living,' she said, in a perfectly calm voice. ' I have done my duty to the dead, and I thank God for it. Major Gurney has shown us all how gloriously we may do our duty, and I will not be the first to sit down and say, "I can struggle no longer.'" " If her tears were dried up Creyke's were not, and he turned away his head that she might not see them ; he had loved her for months, poor chap, and I believe he would have given his life for Gurney's, if he could have taken that dreadful look of suffering out of her eyes. She turned away from him then. " ' Is Eobert Moss here ? ' she asked. " ' Here miss,' he answered, stepping out from behind another man, Avith suspiciously Avet eyes. 193 THE VICTORIA CROSS. " ' Your wife seems a good deal better,' she said. ' I have just seen her, and she sent her love to 3'ou.' " ' Thank you, miss,' he answered, turning away, with eyes overflowing again ; then, in a choked voice, ' Maybe you'll give my love to Mary, and say I'll come in as soon as I can get off.' " She only stayed a few minutes, and just as she Avas moving away, a great hulking Irishman ran after her and caught her gown — a great brute, that had been one of tlie worst scamps in the regiment. " ' Sliure, miss, darlin',' he blurted out, ' ye won't try to stop the blissid tears from comin' ? They'll do ye a power o' good, Miss Floss, an' we can't bear to see ye look like that.' " She lifted her soft dark eyes to his for a moment, and then she laid her little work-worn hand in his great fist. " ' My tears are all burnt up, Michael,' she said, gratefully ; ' but I shall not forget what you have said to me.' " And then she went away, and our watch dragged on. Each day, for the past fortnight, we had been sure matters could not get any worse, but somehow they did. " It was not many days after this that tliey drove us back from that very outpost, and we were obliged to leave one of our few o'uns. The command had bv THE VICTORIA CROSS. 199 that time fallen upon a man named Hood, a first-rate officer, though still rather young. " ' It's a pity to let them have that gun,' he exclaime'cl, vexedly. ' Their fire's bad enough, but to have our own guns turned against us will be too bad.' " ' Couldn't it be spiked, sir ? ' Creyke asked. " ' Yes, of course ; only the chances are ten to one against it's being done : the fire is so heavy there,' he answered. " Of course a dozen volunteers stood out im- mediately, Creyke and I amongst the rest. I was chosen at once, and Creyke insisted upon going too. We were determined that the brutes should not have the gun ; but, upon my word, it was anything but pleasant, running right in the face of the enemy's fire, with only a half-ruined wall for shelter. I can tell you we accomplished our task expeditiously — -I know my only idea was how soon I could get out of danger ; for we were in almost as much peril from our fellows' bullets as from the enemy's, as a con- tinual crossfire was kept up the whole time. Just as we turned for a rush from the shelter of the lialf- ruined wall, I heard a yell from the black fiends behind us ; and before I had gone three yards I came down to the ground with a crash, with what I knew must be a bullet in my shoulder and a second in my hip. Creyke heard only the yell and ran on. I tried 200 THE VICTORIA CROSS. to get up and follow him ; but I fell back, half- fainting with the pain, and shut my eyes, with a feeling that it was all up with me. I don't remember much more, until I found Creyke bending over me with more resolution in his face than I had ever seen in it before. " ' It's all right, old chap,' he said, coolly. ' The brutes have winged you, but I'll have you inside in five minutes,' " ' Go back, you'll only get hit yourself,' I answered. " ' Can you use your legs ? ' he asked. " ' Got a ball in my right hip.' " I saw him take out his penknife and begin ripping up a scarf which happened to be lying near, and then I fancy I must have gone off again ; for, the next time I opened my eyes. Floss Bannister was bathing my forehead, and the doctor was bending over me. " ' You're a noble fellow, Creyke,' I heard Hood say. ' If we are spared to get out of this, I shall recommend you for the Cross.' " ' I don't do it for the Cross,' I heard him answer, coolly. ' I'm glad we prevented those beasts getting the gun, and I couldn't leave Cotherstone to die out there. I should never have faced his father again, as long as I lived.' THE VICTOKIA CKOSS. 201 " ' Xever mind your reasons,' Hood said, warmly, * they don't lessen your heroism, whatever they were.' " Crej-ke came round to iis then, and asked if he could help in any way. " ' Lend me a penknife,' answered the doctor. " ' Oh, by Jove ! I've left it behind me,' he said, in a disgusted tone. ' I'll run and fetch it.' " ' You will do nothing of the kind,' put in Hood, imperatively. " ' But it's the only one I have, sir,' returned Creyke mildly. " ' I forbid you to go ; I distinctly forbid it.' " ' Oh, I must go, sir,' he said, quietly ; 'I shan't be a minute.' And he did so, returning in a few minutes, breathless, but unscathed. ' Here's your knife, Doctor,' he said, as coolly as if he had fetched it out of the hospital. " ' Xow, sir,' I heard Hood say, sternly — I could only just hear him, for they Avere trying to move me, and I was turning very sick and fanit again — ' you have chosen to disobey my orders, therefore I shall not recommend you for the Cross. It is given for valour, not for foolhardiness.' "And that was how Creyke missed the V.C," he ended. " And Avhat became of her ? " Mrs. Cotherstone 202 THE VICTOHIA CROSS. asked, "wiping away her tears, which had been falhng plentifully during the recital. " The last time I heard of her, she was still living with the Cornwallises ; and I fancy she would have yielded to Creyke's prayers, only she promised Gurney just at the last that she would meet him in heaven — Floss Bannister still. Of course, you know, Mary, I don't mean that she has forgotten him ; but perhaps she might have been induced to let Creyke care for her, but for the promise." "And Major Creyke?" " Creyke ! Oh, there will never be any one like her for him. He will love her all his life, as he will never love any other human being. I wonder I never told you all this before, darling. I am afraid I've been so happy myself that I have never thought of other people's troubles ; and, somehow, I don't care to look back to the time when I had not found you again." Mrs. Cotherstone put her soft hands into her husband's with a most tender smile upon her fair face. " I hope I may meet her some day, Xed," she said, earnestly. " I should like to see the woman who saved your life for me ; and as for Major Creyke — Ah, now I think, I shall never be able to make enough of him." " Only don't make me jealous,' he interposed. THE VICTORIA CEOSS. 203 " And how was it," M7/— dwunk," returned Carruthers. " Ah ! " remarked the chief again, if possible Avith IIUMPTY-DUMrXY. 253 more comprehension than before. " Mr. Paget," addressing a notorious practical joker, "may I ask why you are laughing ? " Paget pulled himself up and straightened his face, without making any reply. " This is a very serious matter," said the colonel, gravely, whereupon Desmond gave a malignant leer at his brother officers. " Mr. Desmond goes to bed, very drunk and gets up in the morning minus his hair. Either he has done it himself, or the blame rests with one or more of you." A murmur of denial ran along the line, only Carruthers put his handsome nose two inches higher, without condescending to speak. " You hear, Mr. Desmond," said the colonel, coldly. "This is not the first time I have had to speak to you about playing pranks with your personal ap- pearance. However, since your experiment this time has failed as signally as did a previous one, I will give you a couple of months' leave, and request you to return to your duty a less conspicuous object than you appear at present. You are excused all duty to-day." Surely that was the most cruel part of it all. Some ten years before " Waugh " had been intensely desirous of possessing a moustache, and since Dame Nature considered him too young to have the 254 IIUMPTy-DUMPTY. coveted adornment, lie had denounced her for an old-fashioned stupid, and foregathered with the regi- mental surgeon, who told him, in strict confidence, that he had a recipe which would bring out a pair of moustaches with the rapidity of lightning. " It will sting a bit, but you musn't mind that," said the surgeon, gravely. " Waugli " w^as heroic. Bless you, he didn't mind a little mere pain. What would that be in com- parison to the delight of having a pair of mous- taches of his very own ? Eeader, do you know what a cantharides blister is? Well, that was what Dr. Hale gave "Waugh" to bring out his moustaches ! It didn't hurt him at first, and he put it neatly along his upper Hp, with a little defiant twirl at either end, to make him look fierce — but he didn't look fierce very long : the blister did that part of the busi- ness. In vain did " Waugh " w^rithe and tug ; he couldn't move it. It held on to his unfortunate upper lip like grim death or a leech, until eventually the epidermis thought the discussion not worth going on Avith, so bade a friendly adieu to the cutis vera and set off on his travels with the bhster. That was bad enough, but the roars of laughter which greeted him Avhen he appeared at breakfast the next morning, Avith a clearly defined raw patch, just the shape of a IIOIPTY-DOirTY. L'5^ moustache, extending along liis upper lip and per- fectly correct in detail, even to the knowing little twirl at either extremity, they were much worse. And to have that raked up now, and made an excuse to let the real culprits off, Desmond felt and said, in no measured terms, that it was disgraceful — utterly disgraceful ! But it was no use attempting to argue the point with the colonel, so he took himself off on his leave in dignified silence and — a wig, returning at the expi- ration of it, looking all the better for his mysterious shave, for his hair, which before had been per- sistently straight, grew curly, and really improved his appearance immensely. And thus, though he did not go to the fancy ball in any character, life, so far as he was concerned, was a perpetual fancy ball ; for as long as he re- mained in the regiment he was never allowed to forget how he had once appeared in the character of " Humpty-Dumpty." And — he never got drunk ao-ain as lomr as he lived. A EEGIMENTAL AUTOCEAT. Who was lie ? Why, the colonel, of course ! What othei^ man in that big family of over-grown children occupies the proud position of absolute monarchy? And what was his name ? Thomas Crevecocur, He w^as an autocrat — an absolute monarch — a martinet of the fiercest and most unreasonable description, and he commanded the gallant regiment known as the 18th (Eoyal) Dragoons. Behind his back they called him " Tommy," " Our old man," " Old Fireworks," and the hke ; but to his face it was " yes, colonel," and " no, colonel," in the most mealy-mouthed manner. Occasionally the youngsters played very judicious pranks on him ; that is to say, when " Tommy " got three sheets in the wind he was wont to unbend considerably, and they therefore had to fall in with his humour, and if he joked — ^joke back again; but it was unsatisfactory work — so akin to playing with lighted matches over an open barrel of gun- powder. Well, one evening, after an extra big night. Colonel Crevecoeur retired to his rooms, rather A KEG I MENTAL AU'n^CHAT. 1?.')/ iioarer to l)eina' lialf-sea^=-over than was usual even Avitli liini, wli(^ eoulil stow away a bottle of cogiiae a-day Avitli ease and rouifort. lie Avas desperately sleepy — almost too slee[)y to walk at all ; the night was awfully cold ; on the ground outside the snow h\j thicdv, and the hres in his I'oouis l>urnt brilliaully — as fires do in frosty weather — casting mellow pleasant glow over everytlhng. Up to the sitting- room lire-place Colonel C'reveccrur Avent, meandering thereto in graceful curves, Avhich so delighted him, that he unburdened his soul by a burst of language, popularly called "choice Italian." And, somehow, his legs seemed more inclined to continue the graceful meandering movements than the rest of him did, so he caught at the chimney-piece to steady himself; a liberty Avhich — as it was merely a sham shelf of wood and fringe, put to hide the hideous regulation fmish t(^ the hideous regulation grate — that article promptly resented by breaking down, with all its freight of letters, horse-shoes, candlesticks, ])hoto- grapli frames, and odd little Indian ornaments and figures. Happily the glass was safely screwed to the wall, and the fire happening to flicker up just then hito a brilliant blaze, Colonel Creveccrur caught sight of his own handsome counteiumce, and suddenly became aware that he had been having too much. VOL. I. S 258 A IJEGLMKNTAL AUTOCRAT. " What a demmed red face you've got, CrevecoQiir, my boy," he remarked confidentially, gazmg idioti- cally at the reflection of cheeks flushed scarlet, ^vhite mt)ustaclies, fiercely waxed, and close-cropped Avhite hair, all rumpled up on end. '■'' Been having too much — very wrong — shouldn't do it — bad example to set the young 'uns — gerrabed — gerrabed — sooner the better." XoAv since a roaring lire was alight in each of the rooms, the use of a candle was entirely super- fluous ; but Colonel Crevecanir, being in as great a state of absent-mindedness as was ever Sir Isaak Newton when he made the little hole for the kitten- though, to be sure, the cause was a very different one — troubled himself to stoop for a candle and stick from among the debris on the floor. He fished up the stick first ; tlien the candle. But, alas ! the candle was l)roken, and being slightly too small f(U- tlie candlestick, required fitting to a greater nicety than his head was capable at that moment of conceiving or his fingers of carrying out. " Dem the candlestick ! " said Colonel Crevecanir, flinghig it across the room. Still it did not occur to him to betake himself to be(l without any extra light ; stooping, he placed the broken candle between the bars, with the eflect A I^EGIMEXTAL AUTOCKAT. 259 K)f making a big l)laze in the fire, but none where he wanted it — at the end of the eandle. " Dem the candle ! " he exchximed, tossing it hito the lire ; then sat himself down to recover liis breath — his eyes closed, and in two minutes he was off to sleep as sound as a church. He must have slept for about a couple of hours; for he awoke, with a start, to find the fire burned very low hi the grate, the room in darkness, and the big clock hi the gate tower striking three. Colonel CreveccEur sat up hi his chair, as sober as a judge, "I must have been asleep," he mut- tered ; " gad ; how deuced cold it is." As he passed the window to go into the next room, he drew aside the curtahi to look at the night. The square was as light as day — on the great expanse of newly-fallen snow the full moon shone down bravely, bringing each sentry-box and each snow-capped range of troop-rooms into view, with the startling distinctness of a photograph. He only sto(jd there for a moment, but, as ill- luck w(,)uld have it, a man in plahi clothe.s came quietly out from between the chief block of officers' quarters and the commanding officer's house, and passed quickly towards the nearest troop-room — unchaUeihjed by the sentry immediatel}^ below Colonel CreveccEur's window. He did what, of course, any VOL. I- ,s 2 1*()() A KKOniENTAL AITTOCIJAT. otlier cominaiiding officer in the service would liave done, lie iliino- up Ids Avdudow, and de- manded angril}^ the reason of the non-challenge? " I didn't hear him, sir," stammered the nnfor- timale sentry in disma3^ "You — didu"t — hear — hiui," in tones of ihe most Avilhei'ing scorn, "and what the devil did you mean by not hearing him, sir? What are you there for, sir? Who is he? What is he dohig ont, prowling about at this time of night ? Up to no good, Idl be bound. Til not have men prowling abont at all hours." The man in plain (dothes had quickly enongli vanished at the hrst scnmd of the colonel's voice, but the old autocrat was not going to be done in that fashi(ui. It was just the time for reliev- ing guard, and whilst he was yet speaking, the corporal of the guard made his appearance, and performed that ceremony. " Put this man under arrest ! " thundered the autocrat, " and turn the guard out." So there was a scurry back to the guard-room, a hoarse " Guar-r-r-r-r-d tiu"-r-r-r-n out," a great scramble and sculfiiug and catching up of carbines plainly audible across the silent square — then a tramp of spurred heels, as the guard marched down to the commanding-officer"s quarters. A REGniENTAL AITOCKAT. 261 "Sound reveille!" shouted the colonel. Out rang the trumpets and out came the regi- ment, wondering if a big riot was on, or a monster lire, or maybe an invasion. But, after all, it was but a great to-do about nothing ! Who had been out hi the square during the i)ast half-hour? The dehnquent stood out instanter. " Me, sir," he announced without any circumlocution what- ever. " Oh, you ! " Avith a frightful sneer on his hand- some old face; "and, ])ray, Avhat were you doing out of your (juarters at this hour?" " I'm Mr. Bartholomew's servant, sir," the man explained ; " I've been helping Dr. Scott to ])ut 'ot fiannins on 'im, but when he dropped orf to sleep the doctor said I might as well go to bed, as he could do wevry well by his-self for the rest of the night." Now as young Bartholomew was suffering from a severe attack of inflammation of the lungs, there was nothhig further to be said — therefore, with a very bad word, the old colonel banged doAvn his window, not even condescending to dis- miss the guard, and whilst the orderly-officer was hesitating whether to take that responsibility upon himself, one of the men broke into a hearty lauiih. 262 A KECniKNTAL AUTDCIJAT. Up went tlie window again ! " All, all ! my line fellow, 111 teaeli you to laugh on the other side of your mouth ! " the -colonel roared. " Mr. Mordaunt — let the rc^giment be ready in full marching order in half-aii-hour." Full marching order — at three m the morning, with the thermometer at ten degrees below ;^ero, and snow a foot deep on the ground ! In two minutes that barracks might, with reason, have been likened to randemonium : such a cursing, such a swearuig, in truth, in the space of live short minutes you might have heard as great a variety of oaths as would have served to hll this volume ; su(di a hasty blacking of boots — such a Dolishing of helmets — such groan- higs over soiled gloves and facings, which there was no time to clean — such a hurrying, such a scampering of orderlies to apprise the married officers living in the town — such a rousing of whole streets to find the married men living out of barracks — siudi a grooming and stamping and kicking of sleeping frightened horses — such a plunging and slipping and neighing, until, at last, they were ready to start. All through the town! Such a flinging up of windows — such thrusting out of slee])y heads to know if an enemy had suddenly invaded the A uk(,lmi:ntal aitochat. 263 country — such wonder as llie loud siraius of " Auld Lang Syne" and "The girl I leave behind me" rang out upon the frosty air — such bitter tears of sweet little modest maidens, who did not like to appear en dei/iic toilette, and nuide sure the brave iSlh were off to India at least — such hurried mental totting u]) of un])aid bills ! Then out into the country! IJousing the in- liabitants of village after village, and making them wonder if the ()ueen was dead, that the soldiers made so much fuss? One — two — tlu-ee — four — five — six — seven long slippery, dismal, miser- able miles by a round Avliich brought them back through the town again, where the Avorst was to come. 'A good mile from the town clouds quickly drifted across the moon, and the snow began to fall again in heavy blinding wreaths ; several horses suddenly became utterly unmanage- able and frantic, lashing out every minute when they were not stumbling, and stumbling when they were not occupied in kicking — one fell, breaking his rider's leg hi two i)laces, hi the fall ; a second came down, a couple of hundred yards further on, smashhig a fore-leg horribly ; a third ran his head bang against a lamp-post, tumbling over as dead as a door nail, at Avhicli another terrified animal made a clean bolt of it and tried to 264 A KECil.MEXTAL Al'TOCRAT. jump a, house, Avith the result of turning a somersauh. and huuhni;- in tlie gutter with a broken back, jerking his rider ' off, ' with, happil}'-, no more serious injury tlian a couple of broken ribs. It was a ghastly night's work, and truly morn- ing light rose u])on a ghastly sight:< Three gallant chargers lay stretched stiff and stark upon the trampled blood-stained road ; two hospital cots were filled that before had been empty ; anger aiul disgust was on evcr}^ face, well-nigh rebellion aiul mutiny in every licart ! Amongst it all C'olonel Crcveca-ur stalked, grim, silent, vigilant, like an avenging spirit — a mighty big s]^irit for such a very trivial a misdemeanour. In due course the story was wafted to head- quarters, Avith what effect never transpired. The dignity and the authority of a commanding- officer must l)e ke])t u}) of course — yet many m the regiment sus])ected that when, not many weeks later, Major Forde was gazetted to the connnand of the regiment, rice Tli(.)mas Crevecoeur, resigned, the retirement had been })olitely compulsory. 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