gone very far indeed that night; and looking at
the open letter in her hand, it was set down as
being "all along" of that Ross.

After that night a yet deeper shadow settled
on the Tillotson house. It seemed to others
as though some deep blow had fallen on Mrs.
Tillotson, which had crushed her, though they
could guess what it was. But from that evening
from Mr. Tillotson she seemed to shrink
away with a sort of terror. He himself could
hardly understand this change, for she now
made no protest, and accepted all his wishes
with a dreamy submission. Still, she did not
forget that one purpose, which had come upon
her in the night like a sort of inspiration, to
get Ross away—anywhere; even implore of
him to go. At the first opportunity she set out
for the captain's residence.

CHAPTER XXV. THE CAPTAIN HELPS.

As usual, the captain was overpowered with
the honour of a visit from a lady. "Well,
well; and give me the hand again. My God!
And to be caught in this way. I'm ashamed of
myself. Just like an old woman—nothing ready.
See, my dear. Sit yourself down there—not on
that one— it's got as bad a leg as myself. But
I mean to make a job of it—a regular job,
you know—some day next week. And did
you walk here—now, now you must——;"
and the captain's fingers were on his little
keys, and he was on the march towards the
"guard-her-vine." There was a large official
document before him, to which he saw her eyes
wander. "Ah! There's what they've sent me
now! They've found out I've been drawin'
full allowances long enough, and want to
get a little work out of me. It is a shame, and
it makes me blush sometimes, when there's
many a poor struggling fellow overrun with
children—the creature who ought to have it,
instead of a lazy, good-for-nothing bosthover
like——However," said the captain, with some
pride, "this is from the War Office—no less.
They are going to put some of the Royal Veteran
Battalion and the pensioners to garrison some
of the little coast forts in Ireland. Gad, I
remember them well. The martellos. I think,"
said the captain, with a sort of wistful doubt,
"I could do something in that way. Guard-mounting
once in a morning. Ah, but,
after all, what can they do with an old
foosterer like me, who can't stand straight on his
two legs? Now, my dear, enough about old
Tom and his concerns. How's Tillotson?"

Then, with much hesitation, she began to tell
him what she had come for. The captain
interrupted her at once.

"I see," he said. "The very thing. God
bless me! What sense ladies have. They can
buy and sell the whole of us. Now, give me
the hand for that. I am really very much
obliged to you for coming to me in this way; I
am indeed. I'll just sit down this very day and
make a pen, and write a line to General Cameron,
my old friend—that's to say, when he was
then Colonel Cameron— as fine a soldier as ever
stepped. He'll do it; and if he can't, we have
other irons in the fire, dear. There's Colonel
Wombell, at the Horse Guards. So make
your mind easy, we'll take care of Master Ross."

"Dearest captain, how kind, how good you
are!"

"No. But I am obliged to you for coming
to me. It's an obligation; and now let us leave
that, or look on it as good as settled and done,
and tell me how you go on yourself. I am afraid,
do you know (you might mind, my dear, an
old boy like me that could be your grandfather,
and proud I'd be if I was!), but I have not an
interest in you both, that you won't mind me, I
know. Now, I declare it quite grieves me to
see what's going on, you and he as nice a pair
as ever was put together, and born to be happy;
and if I could be the least use in the world,
God knows I'd put these old eyes upon sticks to
make things square." She hung down her head.

"It is no use. It is hopeless. Nothing
could be done. He is possessed by some
strange delusion about me, and besides, I
myself——No, dearest captain, I see it is all
quite hopeless. Nothing can be done. It must
all go on as it has gone on."

"But surely, my dear," said the captain,
wistfully, "a word in season might set all straight;
and if I now——"

She shook her head. "It cannot be. You do
not know all, nor dare I tell you all. I only
want to see some end or issue of these scenes.
But I suppose I must only bear all."

The captain wondered to hear this language.
"I am an old Bolshero," said he, "and will be
so till they come to measure me for the old chest.
But I have known Tillotson so long and so well,
I'd stake my salvation there's a mistake between
ye of some kind. There is, I know. There never
was a finer, or a better, or a nobler creature on
the face of this earth. He likes you only too
well, my dear, and trust an old boy who has
seen a little life, it's all jealousy."

"It is not that," she said, hurriedly, and
rising to go, " there is more than that—enough
to make us wretched for the rest of our life.
But we must try and bear our lot. As for you,
dearest captain, how shall I ever thank you for
this goodness?" And the golden-haired lady
faded out of the room, leaving the captain in a
litter of wonder.

With great form and ceremony he got out his
great writing-desk bound with brass, opened it
with equal ceremony, drew a special sheet of
paper, and finally selected a quill pen, which he
proceeded to "make;" then he got into his
dressing-gown, and bending painfully down, with
the "spectacles" on, began his despatch:

"My dear General." "My dear General,"
he had to repeat to himself a great many times
over, in a sort of hearty, friendly way, as if the
general was then sitting before him. "My dear
General, I know you have not forgotten your old
brother-officer, whose name is at foot, and his mess
days of the old Fiftieth. I hope, my dear general,
you are well and flourishing, and that everything
is going straight with you. I have not forgotten