Things in England began to look up. Those who preached revolution were forced to hide their heads with shame after the great battle of Camperdown. For this fight had completely restored confidence in our country's powers, and for the time being the fears of invasion had fled far away. In many a lordly hall over all the land the feast was laid, on many a lofty hill the bonfires blazed; it was indeed a season of great rejoicing. In one of the window recesses of Mr. Keane's somewhat lonesome and dreary suburban mansion, as the shadows of evening fell on the almost leafless elms around the house, sat Gerty. She was looking out into the gathering night, looking out at the slowly-falling leaves; for though a book lay in her lap, it was almost too dark to read. By her side sat a beautiful deer-hound, with his muzzle leaning on her knee, and gazing up into her face with his brown earnest eyes, as if he knew there was sorrow at her heart. He--Jack--had given her that dog as a puppy, and no power on earth could make her part with him. As she turned her eyes from the window, she noted his speaking look, and as she bent to caress him, a tear fell on his rough gray neck. Presently there was a knock at the door, and in rushed Mary the maid. Mary seemed about half daft. She was waving aloft a copy of the _Times_, and scarce could speak for excitement. But she managed to point to a certain column. "What is it, Mary? I cannot see." "Which it's our boy Jack as is mentioned for conspeakyewous bravery. Aren't you glad and proud?" "Glad and proud? O Mary! silly child. And I am to be the bride of another. Nay, father insists that I shall give Sir Digby his answer to-night at the ball." "An' I should do it, missus; that I should. I'd put it in fine polite English, but I'd put it straight, all the same. When he knelt before me,--'Jump up, old Granger,' I should say. 'Right about face. Shoulder hip. Quick march. I loves another, and I cannot marry thee.'" "O Mary," said Gerty, smiling in spite of herself, "how you talk! Hush, child; not another word. I'm bound to make my father happy, and--I will." * * * * * The ball to which Gerty and her father were going that evening was Sir Digby's. This gentleman possessed both a town and a country house; but if the truth must be told, he was at present absolutely living on his future prospects. "Well," he told one of his chief cronies that evening before the arrival of the guests, "when my brother dies--and he is a terribly old buffer--I shall drop into a nice thing. But it is just like my confounded luck that he should linger so long. And to tell you the truth, D'Orsay, I'm a bit pinched, and some of the Jews are pressing." "Why don't you marry?" "Well, I'm going to. Ah! she's a sweet young thing, Miss Keane; and though the father is a skinflint, he's wealthy, and I'll make him settle a bit before I give my ancient name away. Wager on that."