Fredericton society was now becoming amply compensated for the loss sustained by the departure of the 52nd Regiment. The gallant Col. Creagh had become a general favorite. Waterloo, with its bloody scenes and brilliant victory, was still fresh in his memory. He never wearied in relating these with fond pride, while his heart was fired with an enthusiasm that stirred every vein with renewed patriotic impulses. The gentlemanly conduct that marked the officers of the 81st, soon won the esteem of the citizens, and placed them on confidential and friendly terms within a short time after their arrival. Though not distinguished by the sporting propensities of their predecessors, the general tone of society received a loftier impetus, social intercourse on a moderate basis was the general feature of the present. Balls and parties were of greater importance than the sports of the turf or field. It must not be inferred the 81st Regiment was quiet and inactive from the facts thus stated. On the contrary, they were gay, dashing and animated, full of the vigour and energy of military life; but the comparison affects them not when we say that the sporting reputation of the 52nd Regiment was unprecedented in military records. Among those deserving notice was Jasper Creagh. He was a winning and agreeable youth, displaying much of the daring and military spirit of his distinguished sire. Many hearts beat faster when they listened to the manly voice of the young soldier. Within a very short space of time an intimacy sprang up between the latter and Lieutenant Trevelyan, who more than sustained the very flattering reputation forwarded by Major McNair.

Jasper Creagh found much pleasure in the company of his newly made friend, while the observant Colonel was well pleased by the preference which showed such judgment on the part of his eldest son.

Frequent allusions were made to the marriage of Lady Rosamond. This brilliant match had afforded much subject for gossip in the higher social circles. Lieutenant Trevelyan quietly listened to the earnest congratulations showered upon this union with apparent interest, often replying to the inquiries of Jasper Creagh with marked concern. His secret was unknown, he could brave the matter with heroic fortitude, while perhaps in after years, time will have effaced those fond memories. It was a bitter trial, but had he known that hearts more liable to succumb to the frailties of nature had borne up bravely against the struggling conflicts of feeling, the thought would have afforded some relief.

Captain Douglas in his boisterous jocose remarks had unconsciously been the means of aiming many unerring and merciless shafts at the heart of the despondent lieutenant. Mr. Howe, on many occasions, would generously have forced his companion to desist, but the sacrifice would have been too great. It were better that the secret remain untold even at the expense of a few such stabs.

In spite of the maneuvering conversational tactics of Mr. Howe, Captain Douglas could not resist the vein of humor which flowed in incessant remark upon those with whom it came in contact. "Lady Rosamond made sad havoc in Fredericton," was his endless theme. "Look at Howe, judging from the length of his face the matter has assumed a serious aspect. There is some doubt as to the exact state of Trevelyan's heart. If the face be taken as an index to the mind, we will pronounce his case as a milder type of the same disease."

Many like jokes were passed around by the incorrigible Charles Douglas, but to all Guy Trevelyan was invulnerable. He betrayed no sign of the inward tempest raging within, save by the almost imperceptible expression which had attracted the scrutinizing eye of the generous hearted Mr. Howe.

The band of the 81st was a great source of amusement to the citizens. It daily furnished music on the Officers' Square, which was entirely free to every peaceably disposed citizen. Another attractive feature was the frequent sights of numerous barges rowing up and down the river. The gay strains of music that floated upon the air, the flutter of bright-colored pennons, the waving of streamers, bright faces, merry hearts, and joyous song, made the scene both enjoyable and imposing. Frequently the excursionists landed on the islands above the city, enjoying the hours in roaming around the woody precincts, in merry conversation, outdoor sport, or the pleasure of the dance. Thus did the citizens spend the greater number of the pleasant summer evenings in the indebtedness of their military friends.

The band-master stood high in the esteem of all ranks and classes. Mr. Hoben had indeed succeeded in filling the position occupied by his predecessor in relation with the Philharmonic Society, sparing no pains in the instruction of every member.

The above named musical organization had now attained a degree of proficiency that was manifest on every public appearance.

Mr. Yorke, of whom mention was made on several former occasions, was a great favorite in musical circles. His taste was consulted on the arrangement of many programmes intended for public dinners, and such demonstrations as called forth a ready response from the general public. The musical abilities of Vivian Yorke were afterwards kept in constant requisition.

The various schemes pushed forward by Sir Howard Douglas for the advancement of the welfare of the Province were heartily endorsed by the people. Steady advances were being made in every pursuit, while that of agriculture was foremost. Societies were formed with a view to adopt measures the most favorable for the advancement of a cause to which all others were secondary in the estimation of Sir Howard. York County Agricultural Society, at that time, was composed of a body of influential members, whose places have never since been filled by any who took such a deep interest in those matters. Such names as those of the Hon. Messrs. Baillie, Odell, Street, Black, Saunders, Bliss, Peters, Shore, Minchin, and many others, grace the pages of the yearly reports issued by the society.

An event occurred about this time which had considerable effect upon the social atmosphere of Fredericton. The old part of the officers' barracks, known as the mess-room, was completely destroyed by fire. It was in the depth of winter, on a very cold night, and many experienced much exposure and fatigue. The promptness displayed, both by military and citizens, may still be remembered by some of the older inhabitants. On this occasion a poor soldier would have been suffocated were it not for the presence of mind displayed by Mr. Yorke, who, on hearing the groans of the distressed man, burst in the door and bore him out amid stifling volumes of smoke and flame.

Much inconvenience arose from the fact of being deprived of comfortable quarters at such an inclement season; but the citizens soon had the pleasure of seeing the officers' mess-room of the 81st stationed in the brick building situated on the corner of Queen and Regent streets, where they had procured temporary accommodation until another and more commodious building should be erected on the site of the former. It was only by such fires that the town of Fredericton succeeded in presenting a more imposing appearance. Small two-story wooden houses, with smaller door and windows, occupied Queen street with an air of ease, seeming to defy progress, and only to be removed by the devouring elements which occasionally made havoc upon those wooden structures.

The present season was remarkable for the many skating tournaments which were held upon the ice in the vicinity of Fredericton. Among those who distinguished themselves were Captain Hansard, an officer retired from the service, and a young gentleman afterwards known in connection with the Crown Land Department and later as a member of the Executive Government, yet an active member of the Legislative Council. The most astonishing feats were performed during the time thus occupied. The officers of the 81st were superior skaters, among whom was Major Booth whose remarkable evolutions gained great notoriety. It is a matter of question whether the feats of the present day to which our attention is sometimes directed, could in anywise compete with those of the days of which we write. Lieutenant Trevelyan had acquired a proficiency in the art that was worthy of admiration. In this healthy pastime he took secret delight. It afforded moments when he could steal miles away and give himself up to those quiet reveries from which the dreamer finds relief. To a sensitive and poetic mind, what is more enjoyable than the silent hours of solitude when the soul is revelling in the delights of idealism; its sweet commune with kindred spirits; its longing and fanciful aspirations? Who that is not possessed of those precious gifts of the soul can realize the happiness that Guy Trevelyan derived from this source? He could, as it were, divest himself of earthy material and live in the ethereal essence of divine communion. In those flights of bliss the loved form of Lady Rosamond was ever near. Her presence hallowed the path whereon he trod. None others invaded the sanctity of this realm of dreams. One soul was there—one being—alas! to wake in one realty.

Mary Douglas was at all times a true sympathizer. She always took a deep interest in her friend Guy. She liked to sit beside him and recall little scenes wherein Lady Rosamond took part. Her merry ringing laugh showed the purity of the mind within. Together they spent many hours in interesting and amusing conversation. Not a thought save that of true friendship entered the mind of either. From this alone arose the full confidence alike reposed in each. Mary Douglas was even more beautiful than Lady Rosamond. Her features were formed as regularly as a model of an Angelo; her expression might be a life-long study for a DaVinci, a Rubens, or a Reynolds. Yet such beauty had not power to fan anew the smouldering fire which consumed the vitality of Lieutenant Trevelyan's existence. On the other hand this lovely girl saw not in her companion anything that could create any feeling akin to love. Such was the entire confidence thus reposed that they were amused at any trifling remarks of those who daily summed up what evidence supported their conjectures. Frequently Mr. Howe turned his attention to the affairs of the unfortunate lieutenant, vainly wishing that such an attachment might be formed and likewise reciprocated. He was certain of the fact that Guy Trevelyan was worthy the hand of the most distinguished and beautiful. He was aware that Sir Howard entertained the highest regard to the son of his old friend Colonel Trevelyan who, as a baronet and gentleman, had a reputation worthy his manly son. The arguments advanced by Mr. Howe were by no means lessened when he wondered if Lady Rosamond could possibly have gained the secret which possessed Guy Trevelyan. He held too high an opinion of her ladyship to harbor the thought that she would triumph in the conquest thus gained on the eve of her marriage with Gerald Bereford. Ah no! Lady Rosamond could not have known it. So reasoned the thoughtful secretary.

In the meantime Lady Rosamond is enjoying the constant whirl and gaiety of London life. Her husband is immersed in the broil of parliamentary affairs. As a representative of his native borough, he is responsible for every grievance, real or imaginary, under which his constituents are daily groaning. The party with whom he was associated was daily becoming unpopular—a crisis was at hand—a dissolution was expected. Another appeal to the country would probably take place. Her ladyship was not a politician; she understood not the measure so proudly discussed by the wives of statesmen and representatives. Still she could not but feel a desire to share in the interests of her husband. In the bustle and turmoil of busy life she felt grateful. Excitement fed her inquietude; it bore her along upon the breast of the dizzy waves. It was well that Lady Rosamond was thus occupied. She gave grand and sumptuous dinner parties, and entertained her guests with balls on a scale of princely magnificence. Her luncheons were indeed sufficient to cheer the most despondent and misanthropic. Gaiety in its varied forms predominated over Lady Rosamond's establishment.

Gerald Bereford was proud of the homage poured at the feet of his beautiful wife. Her praise was music in his ears. He listened to the flattering courtesies with childlike pleasure. Her happiness was his. Often when overcome with the cares and anxiety of public affairs a smile from her ladyship had a charm like magic. A quiet caress was sure to arouse him from the deepest apathy.

Lady Rosamond strove hard to repay her doting husband. Every attention was paid to his wishes. He knew not what it was to suffer the slightest neglect. Gerald Bereford was happy. His happiness was often the subject of comment of the associates of his club. His wife's unassuming beauty, her grace and virtues, attracted many who were solicitous to cultivate her acquaintance.

"How did you manage to secure such a prize, Bereford? She is the most beautiful woman in the United Kingdom," exclaimed a gentleman to Gerald Bereford, after being introduced to Lady Rosamond at a ball given by the French ambassador, where, without any conscious effort, she had been pronounced the most attractive amidst a bewildering array of princely rank, wealth, dignity, youth and beauty.

None could deny the assertion. The rich and elegant black velvet robes worn by her ladyship displayed the beautiful transparency and form of her snowy arms and shoulders. Flashing jewels lent a glow to the lovely face, reflecting their purity and priceless worth.

In the midst of her greatest triumphs Lady Rosamond felt her misery the most unendurable. Then she experienced the cruel mockeries of the world; then she felt pangs that the glare and display of wealth must cover—that the tribute of homage vainly sought to satisfy. At those moments a picture of never-fading reality would flit before her mental vision in mocking array—a picture in which her ladyship knelt with expressive and silent gaze at the feet of the stern monitress, Duty, whose defiant scowl denies appeal from the speaking depths of the mournful dark eyes. Two forms are discerned in the background; the foremost reveals the features of Gerald Bereford casting fond glances towards the kneeling figure in the foreground. Duty wears a smile as she beckons his approach with tokens of deep appreciation. There still lingers another form. Whose can it be? Can we not recognize that face, though indistinct, in the dim outline? Duty steps between and intercepts our view. This is the picture from which Lady Rosamond vainly tried to withdraw her thoughts, repeating the consoling words with saddened emphasis: "Everything is ordered for the best."