"But why encourage hope?" thought Miles to himself, with bitterness in his heart; "I'm only a private. Marion will never condescend to think of _me_. What have I to offer her except my worthless self?" (you see Miles was beginning to see through himself faintly.) "Even if my father were a rich man, able to buy me out of the army and leave me a fortune-- which he is not--what right have I to expect that a girl like Marion would risk her happiness with a fellow who has no profession, no means of subsistence, and who has left home without money and without leave? Bah! Miles, you are about the greatest goose that ever put on a red coat!" He was getting on, you see! If he had put "sinner" for "goose," his shot would have been nearer the mark; as it was, all things considered, it was not a miss. He smarted considerably under the self-condemnation. If a comrade had said as much he would have resented it hotly, but a man is wonderfully lenient to himself! Under the impulse of these feelings he sought and obtained leave to go into the town. He wished to see how the new Soldiers' Institute being set up there was getting along. He had promised Miss Robinson to pay it a visit. That was his plea. He did not feel called upon to inform his officer of his intention to visit the Drews! That was quite a private matter--yet it was the main matter; for, on landing, instead of inquiring for the spot where the new Institute was being erected, he began a search among the various hotels where English visitors were wont to put up. The search was successful. He found the hotel, but the family had gone out, he was told, and were not expected back till evening. Disappointment, of course, was the result; but he would wait. It is amazing what an amount of patience even impatient men will exercise when under the influence of hope! There was plenty of time to run down and see the Institute, but he might miss his friends if they should chance to come in and go out again during his absence. What should he do? "Bother the Institute!" he muttered to himself. "It's only bricks an' mortar after all, and I don't know a soul there." He was wrong on both of these points, as we shall see. "What's the use of my going?" he murmured, after a reflective pause. "You promised the ladies of the Portsmouth Institute that you'd go to see it, and report progress," said that extraordinary Something inside of him, which had a most uncomfortable way of starting up and whispering when least expected to do so. "And," added Something, "every gentleman should keep his word." "True," replied Miles, almost angrily, though inaudibly; "but I'm _not_ a gentleman, I'm only a private!" "Goose!" retorted that pertinacious Something; "is not every private a gentleman who acts like one? And is not every gentleman a blackguard who behaves as such?" Miles was silenced. He gave in, and went off at once to visit the Institute.