“How very kind you are! You know that my dear brother Hilary is in the thick of very, very sad fighting. And I thought that perhaps you would not mind (as a military escort), describing exactly how you felt when first you charged the enemy.” “The deuce must be in the girl,” thought the Captain; “and yet she looks so innocent. It can be only an accident. But she is too sharp to be romanced with.” “Miss Lorraine,” he answered, “I belonged to the Guards; whose duty lies principally at home. I have never been in action.” “Oh, I understand; then you do not know what a sad thing real fighting is. Poor Hilary! We are most anxious about him. We have seen his name in the despatches; and we know that he was wounded. But neither he, nor Major Clumps (a brave officer in his regiment) has sent us a line since it happened.” “He was first through the breach at Badajos. He has covered himself with glory.” “We know it,” said Alice, with tears in her eyes; and for a moment she liked the Captain. “But if he has covered himself with wounds, what is the good of the glory?” “A most sensible question,” Chapman answered, and fell once more to zero in the opinion of his charmer. With all the contempt that can be expressed by silence, when speech is expected, she kept on so briskly towards Bonny’s castle, that her suitor (who, in spite of all martial bearing, walked in the manner of a pigeon) became hard set to keep up with her. “The view from this spot is so lovely,” he said, “I must really beg you to sit down a little. Surely we need not be in such a hurry.” “The air is chilly, and I must not loiter. My father has a bad headache to-day. That was the reason he was not at church.” “Then surely he can be in no hurry for his luncheon. I have so many things to say to you. And you really give me quite a pain in my side.” “Oh, I am so sorry! I beg your pardon. I never could have thought that I was doing that. Rest a little, and you will be better.” The complaint would have been as a joke passed over, if it had come from anybody else. But she knew that the Captain was not strong in his lungs, or his heart, or anything; therefore she allowed him to sit down, while she stood and gazed back through the Ashwood lane, fringed, and arched, and dappled by the fluttering approach of spring.