'A thousand would call the spot dreary Where thou takest thy long repose; But a rude couch is sweet to the weary, And the frame that suffering knows. I never rejoiced more sincerely Than at thy funeral hour, Assured that the one I loved dearly Was beyond affliction's power! Why did he quote all this to me, and tell me never to forget that spot, or who was buried there, if she was only Shafto's aunt, and not my mother?' Florian felt keenly for the position of Dulcie Carlyon, and the perils and mortifications that might beset her path now; but he was too young, too healthy and full of animal life and spirits, to be altogether weighed down by the thought of his humble position and all that was before him; and now that he had seen her again, restored to her bosom the locket, and that he knew she was true to him, and had never for a moment wavered in her girlish love, life seemed to become suddenly full of new impulses and hopes for him, and he thought prayerfully that all might yet be well for them both. But when? To Dulcie there seemed something noble in the hopeful spirit that, under her influence, animated her grave lover now. He seemed to become calm, cool, steadfast, and, hap what might, she felt he would ever be true to her. He seemed brave and tender and true--'tender and true' as a Douglas of old, and Dulcie thought how pleasant and glorious it would be to have such a handsome young husband as he to take care of her always, and see that all she did was right and proper and wise. A long embrace, and he was gone to catch the inexorable train. She was again alone, and for the first time she perceived that the sun had set, that the waves looked black as they rounded Revelstoke promontory, and that all the landscape had grown dark, desolate, and dreary. What a hopeless future seemed to stretch before these two creatures, so young and so loving! Florian was gone--gone to serve as a private soldier on the burning coast of Africa. It seemed all too terrible, too dreadful to think of. 'Every morning and evening I shall pray for you, Florian,' wailed the girl in her heart; 'pray that you may be happy, good, and rich, and--and that we shall yet meet in heaven if we never meet on earth.' On the second morning after this separation, when Dulcie was pillowed in sleep, and the rising sun was shining brightly on the waves that rolled in Cawsand Bay and danced over the Mewstone, a great white 'trooper' came out of Plymouth Sound under sail and steam, with the blue-peter flying at its foremasthead, her starboard side crowded with red coats, all waving their caps and taking a farewell look at Old England--the last look it proved to many--and, led by Bob Edgehill, a joyous, rackety, young private of the Warwickshire, hundreds of voices joined chorusing: 'Merrily, my lads, so ho! They may talk of a life at sea, But a life on the land With sword in hand Is the life, my lads, for me!'