being like myself would give you any pleasure?
because, if so—"

"Indeed it would," she answered readily, and
without hesitation.

She was so simple and so natural, he could
have gone on "playing" on her for an hour more
with fresh entertainment, only he was obliged
to go.

"Good-by! good-by!" he said, rising. "As
I say nothing is settled, you must be prepared
for that morning call in the south. For I suspect
I shall have to rule over the Easterns after all.
There is something grand, as you say, in being a
satrap. I feel a call to it: and so," added
Fermor, gliding into a tender cadence, "good-
by, dear Miss Carlay. We have had some
pleasant hours together; at least / have."

The girl said nothing. Fermor held her hand
a moment, let it go suddenly, and then left the
room. Without any "pronounced" sensation
in this farewell, there was still a secret hint as
of something dramatic and touching. Fermor's
"exquisite steering" (his expression to himself)
had given this tone to the situation. At the
door he came full on Mr. Carlay.

"We are going away," said he, "as no doubt
you have been told. I know very few, and
scarcely one that I care for here; so it is not a
great sacrifice for me. She would like to
remain."

"Then why go?" said Fermor.

"This air of the south has been ordered for
her. The winter is drawing on. And what is
to become of you? I am told you are to go to
India full of honours."

"Well, so they say," said Fermor, greatly
gratified with this universal nomination of
himself to office.

"I am sure you will succeed. Write to
us—to me. You have done great good in
this house; you have really cheered her up. It
was kind of you to come in and talk with her.
A grim stiff fellow like me is no companion for
a girl."

This concluded his farewell with father and
daughter. The whole scene quite filled his
mind. The Manuel family faded out and became
small figures at a distance. At all events, there
was nothing pressing. Thus do painters, by
heightening the colours in one portion of a
picture, dim, without touching, other parts near
them.

That evening, when Fermor came in triumphant,
he found Major Carter waiting, who had
something to tell him.

The Eastport season was indeed coming to
an end. Sharp blasts were coming from the
sea, charged with daggers and razors. The
polite world was flitting away. Every day, at
the newly-opened railway station, porters had
busy work of it, labelling dark and heavy
boxes for "London." And in first-class
windows was seen a crowd of appeals,
growing every day more frequent, crying out
piteously, "To Let," "To Let." Every one was
eager to be gone; once the rush had set in,
and the air was filled with declarations, "We
are going on Monday," "We are going on Tuesday
&c. &c. The haste and hurry was almost
indecent, and not unmixed with contempt. It
was as though some family with whom they had
been intimate had been suddenly discovered to
be unsuitable persons to know, and to be
"dropped" with all speed. Next year, when
the season came on, the people would be bowing
and greeting Eastport again with the pleasant
effrontery of worldlings. Thus, in a day or
two, had Sir Hopkins Pocock, C.B., passed
away, his despatch-box being put away under
the seat. Thus, also, in a week or two, was
Lady Laura Fermor and her daughters busy
upstairs putting up their camp-kettles and knapsacks,
once more getting ready for the road.

The Eastport sea-breezes, and the comparative
inactivity of this campaign, had not been without
profit for the veteran commander. If it had
been otherwise, it would have made little
difference, as, however worn and footsore, she
would have marched out of the place with the
same spirit. Yet, though no serious operations
had been undertaken, some successes of a
substantial order had crowned their arms. It did,
indeed, seem likely that what might be called a
fort—Fort Piper—was about to fall. That
stronghold, it will be remembered, was a sort of
child, but of good expectations, and well worthy
sitting down before and investing in all form.
The ripe charms of Alicia Mary had affected
him.

"Good God!" said Fermor, with strong
disgust, as he met the child day after day in his
mother's apartments. "You don't mean to say
you are thinking of that infant! I declare it
would be a sin—a crime! I could not stand by
and look on. His friends ought to interfere. I
am ashamed of you, Alicia."

For once the veteran sergeant lost command
of her temper. This was tampering with ranks.
Her voice trembled. "None of this," she said,
walking up to him with a look he did not soon
forget. "You must not interfere with the girls.
We have had work enough of it, without help
from any one, and I won't suffer any
interference now. You have done for yourself in the
way that suits you best, and no one has said a
word to you. It is only fair that we should
have our way."

Fermor withdrew in some disorder. The Boy
positively adored Alicia Mary. There were
guardians in the way, it is true, but providentially
no Chancery. And it was to sit down before
these guardians that Lady Laura was now
preparing to march. A ridiculous disparity, said
the malicious. Disparity, answered the
commander, when he was nephew to Sir Thomas!
Disparity, when the estates were worth so much!
Away with such puerile objections.

Violet kept her mournful watches; only the
inspiration of her maid sustained her. Fermor
came in a day or so. He diffused joy over the
mansion; but he was moody and "short."
Violet welcomed him, after the first shock,
with some pleasure. The elixir was working.
Pauline did not come down to him; her presence