Her Majesty's—th had got their orders for Malta, and some surmised for India, though it was not yet known; but all agreed it was hard,—“confoundedly hard,” they called it. “Had n't they had their turn of Inidan service?—how many years had that grim old major passed in the Deccan,—what weary winters had the bronzed bald captain there spent at Rangoon!”

How they inveighed against the national niggardliness that insisted on making a small army do the work of a large one! How they scouted the popular idea that regiments were treated alike and without favoritism! They knew better. They knew that if they had been the Nine Hundred and Ninth, or Three Thousand and First, there would have been no thought of sending them back to cholera and jungle fever. Some, with a little sly flattery, ascribed the order to their efficiency, and declared that they had done their work so well at Gonurshabad, the Government selected them at once when fresh troubles were threatening; and a few old grumblers, tired of service, sick of the Horse Guards,—not over-enamored of even life,—agreed that it was rank folly to join a regiment where the Lieutenant-Colonel was not a man of high connections; as they said, “If old Cave there had been a Lord George or even an Honorable, we 'd have had ten years more of home service.”

With the exception of two or three raw subalterns who had never been out of England, and who wanted the glory of pig-sticking and the brevet to tell tiger stories, there were gloom and depression everywhere. The financially gifted complained that as they had all or nearly all bought their commissions, there was no comparison between the treatment administered to them and to officers in any foreign army; and such as knew geography asked triumphantly whether a Frenchman, who could be only sent to Africa, or an Austrian, whose most remote banishment was the “Banat,” was in the same position as an unfortunate Briton, who could be despatched to patrol the North Pole to-day, and to-morrow relieve guard at New Zealand? By a unanimous vote it was carried that the English army was the worst paid, hardest worked, and most ill-treated service in Europe; but the roast-beef played just at the moment, and they went in to dinner.

As the last bars of that prandial melody were dying away, two men crossed the barrack-yard towards the mess-house. They were in close confabulation, and although evidently on their way to dinner, showed by their loitering pace how much more engrossed they were by the subject that engaged them than by any desire for the pleasures of the table. They were Colonel Cave and Sewell.

“I can scarcely picture to my mind as great a fool as that,” said Sewell, angrily. “Can you?”

“I don't know,” said Cave, slowly and doubtingly. “First of all, I never was heir to a large estate; and, secondly, I was never, that I remember, in love.”

“In love! in fiddlestick. Why, he has not seen the girl this year and half; he scarcely knows her. I doubt greatly if she cares a straw for him; and for a caprice—a mere caprice—to surrender his right to a fine fortune and a good position is absolute idiocy; but I tell you more, Cave, though worse—far worse.” Here his voice grew harsh and grating, as he continued: “When I and other men like me played with Trafford, we betted with the man who was to inherit Holt. When I asked the fellow to my house, and suffered a certain intimacy—for I never liked him—it was because he represented twelve thousand a year in broad acres. I 'd stand a good deal from a man like that, that I 'd soon pull another up for,—eh?”

The interrogative here puzzled Cave, who certainly was not a concurring party to the sentiment, and yet did not want to make it matter of discussion.

“We shall be late,—we've lost our soup already,” said he, moving more briskly forward.

“I 'd no more have let that fellow take on him, as he did under my roof, than I 'd sufifer him to kennel his dogs in my dressing-room. You don't know—you can't know—how he behaved.” These words were spoken in passionate warmth, and still there was that in the speaker's manner that showed a want of real earnestness; so it certainly seemed to Cave, who secretly determined to give no encouragement to further disclosures.

“There are things,” resumed Sewell, “that a man can't speak on,—at least, he can only speak of them when they become the talk of the town.”

“Come along, I want my dinner. I'm not sure I have not a guest, besides, who does not know any of our fellows. I only remembered him this instant. Is n't this Saturday?”

“One thing I 'll swear,—he shall pay me every shilling he owes me, or he does not sail with the regiment. I 'll stand no nonsense of renewals; if he has to sell out for it, he shall book up. You have told him, I hope, he has nothing to expect from my forbearance?”

“We can talk this all over another time. Come along now,—we 're very late.”

“Go on, then, and eat your dinner; leave me to my cigar—I 've no appetite. I 'll drop in when you have dined.”

“No, no; you shall come too,—your absence will only make fellows talk; they are talking already.”

“Are they? and in what way?” asked he, sternly.

“Nothing seriously, of course,” mumbled Cave, for he saw how he had fallen into an indiscretion; “but you must come, and you must be yourself too. It's the only way to meet flying rumors.”

“Come along, then,” said Sewell, passing his arm within the other's; and they hurried forward without another word being spoken by either.

It was evident that Sewell's appearance caused some surprise. There was a certain awkward significance in the way men looked at him and at each other that implied astonishment at his presence.

“I didn't know you were down here,” said the old Major, making an involuntary explanation of his look of wonderment.

“Nothing very remarkable, I take it, that a man is stopping at his own house,” said Se well, testily. “No—no fish. Get me some mutton,” added he to the mess-waiter.

“You have heard that we 've got our orders,” said a captain opposite him.

“Yes; Cave told me.”

“I rather like it,—that is, if it means India,” said a very young-looking ensign.

Sewell put up his eye-glass and looked at the speaker, and then, letting it drop, went on with his dinner without a word.

“There 's no man can tell you more about Bengal than Colonel Sewell there,” said Cave, to some one near him. “He served on the staff there, and knows every corner of it.”

“I wish I did n't, with all my heart. It's a sort of knowledge that costs a man pretty dearly.”

“I 've always been told India was a capital place,” said a gay, frank-looking young lieutenant, “and that if a man did n't drink, or take to high play, he could get on admirably.”

“Nor entangle himself with a pretty woman,” added another.

“Nor raise a smashing loan from the Agra Bank,” cried a third.

“You are the very wisest young gentlemen it has ever been my privilege to sit down with,” said Sewell, with a grin. “Whence could you have gleaned all these prudent maxims?”

“I got mine,” said the Lieutenant, “from a cousin. Such a good fellow as he was! He always tipped me when I was at Sandhurst, but he's past tipping any one now.”

“Dead?”

“No; I believe it would be better he were; but he was ruined in India,—'let in' on a race, and lost everything, even to his commission.”

“Was his name Stanley?”

“No, Stapyleton,—Frank Stapyleton,—he was in the Grays.”

“Sewell, what are you drinking?” cried Cave, with a loudness that overbore the talk around him. “I can't see you down there. You 've got amongst the youngsters.”

“I am in the midst of all that is agreeable and entertaining,” said Sewell, with a smile of most malicious meaning. “Talk of youngsters, indeed! I'd like to hear where you could match them for knowledge of life and mankind.”

There was certainly nothing in his look or manner as he spoke these words that suggested distrust or suspicion to those around him, for they seemed overjoyed at his praise, and delighted to hear themselves called men of the world. The grim old Major at the opposite side of the table shook his head thoughtfully, and muttered some words to himself.

“They 're a shady lot, I take it,” said a young captain to his neighbor, “those fellows who remain in India, and never come home; either they have done something they can't meet in England, or they want to do things in India they couldn't do here.”

“There's great truth in that remark,” said Sewell. “Captain Neeves, let us have a glass of wine together. I have myself seen a great deal to bear out your observation.”

Neeves colored with pleasure at this approval, and went on: “I heard of one fellow—I forget his name—I never remember names; but he had a very pretty wife, and all the fellows used to make up to her, and pay her immense attention, and the husband rooked them all at ÉcartÉ, every man of them.”

“What a scoundrel!” said Sewell, with energy. “You ought to have preserved the name, if only for a warning.”

“I think I can get it, Colonel. I 'll try and obtain it for you.”

“Was it Moorcroft?” cried one.

“Or Massingbred?” asked another.

“I'll wager a sovereign it was Dudgeon; wasn't it Dudgeon?”

But no; it was none of the three. Still, the suggestions opened a whole chapter of biographical details, in which each of these worthies vied with the other. No man ever listened to the various anecdotes narrated with a more eager interest than Sewell. Now and then, indeed, a slight incredulity—a sort of puzzled astonishment that the world could be so very wicked, that there really were such fellows—would seem to distract him; but he listened on, and even occasionally asked an explanation of this or of that, to show the extreme attention he vouchsafed to the theme.

To be sure, their attempts to describe the way some trick was played with the cards or the dice, how the horse was “nobbled” or the match “squared,” were neither very remarkable for accuracy nor clearness. They had not been well “briefed,” as lawyers say, or they had not mastered their instructions. Sewell, however, was no captious critic; he took what he got, and was thankful.

When they arose from the table, the old Major, dropping behind the line of those who lounged into the adjoining room, caught a young officer by the arm, and whispered some few words in his ear.

“What a scrape I 'm in!” cried the young fellow as he listened.

“I think not, this time; but let it be a caution to you how you talk of rumors in presence of men who are strangers to you.”

“I say, Major,” asked a young captain, coming up hurriedly, “isn't that Sewell the man of the Agra affair?”

“I don't think I 'd ask him about it, that's all,” said the Major, slyly, and moved away.

“I got amongst a capital lot of young fellows at my end of the table—second battalion men, I think,—who were all new to me, but very agreeable,” said Sewell to Cave, as he sipped his coffee.

“You'd like your rubber, Sewell, I know,” said Cave; “let us see if we haven't got some good players.”

“Not to-night,—thanks,—I promised my wife to be home early; one of the chicks is poorly.”

“I want so much to have a game with Colonel Sewell,” said a young fellow. “They told me up at Delhi that you hadn't your equal at whist or billiards.”

Sewell's pale face grew flushed; but though he smiled and bowed, it was not difficult to see that his manner evinced more irritation than pleasure.

“I say,” said another, who sat shuffling the cards by himself at a table, “who knows that trick about the double ace in picquet? That was the way Beresford was rooked at Madras.”

“I must say good-night,” said Sewell; “it's a long drive to the Nest You 'll come over to breakfast some morning before you leave, won't you?”

“I 'll do my best. At all events, I 'll pay my respects to Mrs. Sewell;” and with a good deal of hand-shaking and some cordial speeches Sewell took his leave and retired.

Had any one marked the pace at which Sewell drove home that night, black and dark as it was, he would have said, “There goes one on some errand of life or death.” There was something of recklessness in the way he pushed his strong-boned thoroughbred, urging him up hill and down without check or relief, nor slackening rein till he drew up at his own door, the panting beast making the buggy tremble with the violent action of his respiration. Low muttering to himself, the groom led the beast to the stable, and Sewell passed up the stairs to the small drawing-room where his wife usually sat.

She was reading as he entered; a little table with a tea equipage at her side. She did not raise her eyes from her book when he came in; but whether his footstep on the stair had its meaning to her quick ears or not, a slight flush quivered on her cheek, and her mouth trembled faintly.

“Shall I give you some tea?” asked she, as he threw himself into a seat. He made no answer, and she laid down her book, and sat still and silent.

“Was your dinner pleasant?” said she, after a pause.

“How could it be other than pleasant, Madam,” said he, fiercely, “when they talked so much of you?”

“Of me?—talked of me?”

“Just so; there were a set of young fellows who had just joined from another battalion, and who discoursed of you, of your life in India, of your voyage home, and lastly of some incidents that were attributed to your sojourn here. To me it was perfectly delightful. I had my opinion asked over and over again, if I thought that such a levity was so perfectly harmless, and such another liberty was the soul of innocence? In a word, Madam, I enjoyed the privilege, very rarely accorded to a husband, I fancy, to sit in judgment over his own wife, and say what he thought of her conduct.”

“Was there no one to tell these gentlemen to whom they were speaking?” said she, with a subdued, quiet tone.

“No; I came in late and took my place amongst men all strangers to me. I assure you I profited largely by the incident. It is so seldom one gets public opinion in its undiluted form, it 's quite refreshing to taste it neat. Of course they were not always correct. I could have set them right on many points. They had got a totally wrong version of what they called the 'Agra row,' though one of the party said he was Beresford's cousin.”

She grasped the table convulsively to steady herself, and in so doing threw it down, and the whole tea equipage with it.

“Yes,” continued he, as though responding to this evidence of emotion on her part,—“yes; it pushed one's patience pretty hard to be obliged to sit under such criticism.”

“And what obliged you, sir? was it fear?”

“Yes, Madam, you have guessed it. I was afraid—terribly afraid to own I was your husband.”

A low faint groan was all she uttered, as she covered her face with her hands. “I had next,” continued he, “to listen to a dispute as to whether Trafford had ever seriously offered to run away with you or not. It was almost put to the vote. Faith, I believe my casting voice might have carried the thing either way if I had only known how to give it.” She murmured something too low to be heard correctly, but he caught at part of it, and said: “Well, that was pretty much what I suspected. The debate was, however, adjourned; and as Cave called me by my name at the moment, the confidences came to an abrupt conclusion. As I foresaw that these youngsters, ignorant of life and manners as they were, would be at once for making apologetic speeches and such-like, I stole away and came home, more domestico, to ruminate over my enjoyments at my own fireside.”

“I trust, sir, they were strangers to your own delinquencies. I hope they had no unpleasant reminders to give you of yourself.”

“Pardon, Madam. They related several of what you pleasantly call my delinquencies, but they only came in as the by-play of the scene where you were the great character. We figured as brigands. It was you always who stunned the victim; I only rifled his pockets—fact, I assure you. I'm sorry that china is smashed. It was Saxe,—wasn't it?”

She nodded.

“And a present of Trafford's too! What a pity! I declare I believe we shall not have a single relic of the dear fellow, except it be a protested bill or two.” He paused a moment or so, and then said, “Do you know, it just strikes me that if they saw how ill—how shamefully you played your cards in this Trafford affair, they 'd actually absolve you of all the Circe gifts the world ascribes to you.”

She fixed her eyes steadfastly on him, and as her clasped hands dropped on her knees, she leaned forward and said: “What do you mean by it? What do you want by this? If these men, whose insolent taunts you had not courage to arrest or to resent, say truly, whose the fault? Ay, sir, whose the fault? Answer me, if you dare, and say, was not my shame incurred to cover and conceal yours?”

“Your tragedy-queen airs have no effect upon me. I 've been too long behind the scenes to be frightened by stage thunder. What is past is past. You married a gambler; and if you shared his good luck, you oughtn't to grumble at partaking his bad fortune. If you had been tired of the yoke, I take it you 'd have thrown it behind you many a day ago.”

“If I had not done so, you know well why,” said she, fiercely.

“The old story, I suppose,—the dear darlings upstairs. Well, I can't discuss what I know nothing about. I can only promise you that such ties would never bind me.”

“I ask you once again what you mean by this?” cried she, as her lips trembled and her pale cheeks shook with agitation. “What does it point to? What am I to do? What am I to be?”

“That's the puzzle,” said he, with an insolent levity; “and I 'll be shot if I can solve it! Sometimes I think we 'd do better to renounce the partnership, and try what we could do alone; and sometimes I suspect—it sounds odd, does n't it?—but I suspect that we need each other.”

She had by this time buried her face between her hands, and by the convulsive motion of her shoulders, showed she was weeping bitterly.

“One thing is certainly clear,” said he, rising, and standing with his back to the fire,—“if we decide to part company, we have n't the means. If either of us would desert the ship, there 's no boat left to do it with.”

She arose feebly from her chair, but sank down again, weak and overcome.

“Shall I give you my arm?” asked he.

“No; send Jane to me,” said she, in a voice barely above a whisper.

He rang the bell, and said, “Tell Jane her mistress wants her;” and with this he searched for a book on the table, found it, and strolled off to his room, humming an air as he went.