NEVER FORGOTTEN.

              PART THE FIRST.
   CHAPTER XXXVI. A MEETING.

ALL that long day Fermor had hardly time to
think. At the Horse Guards—at the Indian
outfitter's—at his tailor's—at his family's. He
lived almost in cabs. He saw that Sir
Charles who was "one of his relative's oldest
friends," and was received with unofficial cordiality.
"Glad to do anything for my old
chum, Sir Hopkins. Besides, you have had no
leave for eighteen months. Severe accident,
too. Very well. Leave directions with your
agents, and we shall take care of you."

Later he saw his mother, Lady Lauren.

The "girls" were in the Park with "Young
Piper," riding the coursers of Young Piper.
That youth was, as it were, drunk with his
infatuation. Lady Laura welcomed her son as
though she were an ordinary mother of flesh and
blood, gave him a really maternal embrace, and
approached nearer to weeping than she had ever
done in her life.

"My dear boy," she said, as he told her his
story, "I am indeed proud of you. This is a
brave, manly, and sensible course. I always
said, I admire your resolution and self-denial.
I do indeed. Look at that child Piper, that is
running after Alicia Mary, like a weak schoolboy.
But I said all along that you were following
out some little plan of your own; and I was not
far out." Fermor was a little elated with these
praises, and had a sort of dim impression that
"all along" her hand directed the course of
events. "As for the girl—who, I am told, is
clever enough—would you, my dear Charles,
leave it to me? Shall I write a kind, friendly
note, to say the thing must not be thought of
for the present, and that if you are both in the
same mind when you return, it can all begin
again? That is the proper way, Charles, and a
very good test it will be of her sincerity. Young
Monboddo went to his regiment at Ceylon
under exactly such an arrangement with Lady
Frederica Hemans: but, my dear, when he
came back, she was Lady Frederica Nugent."

By the evening he had done a wonderful day's
business. He met Major Carter by appointment
at Starridge's, the correct bachelors'
hotel in Bond-street, and they dined together.
At eight they were driving up to the South-
Eastern Railway—among the lamps—to go
down by the mail to Dover.

"I met," said the major, as they got out,
"some common friends to-day. I did not tell
you, as it was to be a little surprise for you."

Fermor was glad. He was growing gloomy
and morose as he thought of this second nights'
journey to be taken alone. The major was to
stay in London.

"Here they are," said he, as they emerged
on the busy platform; and Fermor saw a tall
stiff figure in shadow, and a muffled lady on his
arm. "Here are our friends," said the major.
"Delightful, is it not? Going the same way,
too—quite a coincidence."

Perhaps it was. The Carlays were going to
the south of France after some days' stay in
London. Now, indeed, the gloomy prison-like
journey, which he had shrunk from, would
become a little blue boudoir, well lit, comfortable,
and cheerful. This simple girl would entertain
him with her unconcealed worship. The act of
making a journey together is a link of
sympathy; for there are common troubles and a
common undertaking to be got through
together.

And so the bell rang, and the night-mail
flew down to Dover, past many pointsmen,
who had come out of their hutches on duty,
and saw the cozy well-lighted blue chambers
flit by; in one of which Captain Fermor, his
knees wrapped in his rug, was stooping over,
talking with great animation of voice and gesture
to the lady next him. Then came the cold
night air on Dover pier, and the Calais packet,
and Paris in the grey of the morning, and the
great Boulevards, with the trees and the white
palaces, and the men in blouses going to work,
and the great door of the great hotel, which a
portier, who never slept, swung slowly open.
Then the sleepy travellers went to their rest—
for an hour or so.

Fermor often boasted of his "iron constitution,"
and by ten or eleven o'clock was asking
to see "his Excellency" Sir Hopkins Pocock,
who was breakfasting in a private room of the
hotel.

The welcome he received from that high
public servant was wonderfully cordial. "My
dear, dear boy," he said, "this is right now.
I am proud of you. You were made for the
service. I knew you would turn out of the