But there was one young soldier whose voice failed him in the chorus, and whose eyes rested on Stoke Point and the mouth of the Yealm till these and other familiar features of the coast melted into the widening Channel. Dulcie was roused to exertion from the stupor of grief that had come upon her by tidings that a situation had been found for her as companion--one in which she would have to make herself useful, amiable, and agreeable in the family of a lady of rank and wealth, to whom she would be sent by influential friends of Mr. Pentreath in London. The poor girl thought tearfully how desolate was her lot now, cast to seek her bread among utter strangers; and if she became ill, delicate, or unable to work, what would become of her? Her separation from Florian seemed now greater than ever; but, as Heine has it: 'Tis but the old, old story, Yet it ever abideth new; And to whomsoever it cometh The heart it breaks in two.' To leave Revelstoke seemed another wrench. Dulcie had been born and bred there, and all the villagers in Revelstoke loved and knew Lawyer Carlyon well, and were deeply interested in the future of his daughter; thus, on the day of her departure no one made any pretence of work or working. Heads were popping out and in of the windows of the village street all morning, and a cluster--a veritable crowd--of kindly folks accompanied Mr. Pentreath and the weeping girl to the railway station, for she wept freely at all this display of regard and sympathy, especially from the old, whom she might never see again. When the train swept her away, and she lost sight of the last familiar feature of her native place, a strange and heavy sense of utter desolation came over poor Dulcie, and but for the presence of other passengers she would have stooped her head upon her hot hands and sobbed aloud, for she thought of her dead parents--when did she not think of them now? 'Oh!' exclaims a writer, 'if those who have loved and gone before us can see afar off those they have left, surely the mother who had passed from earth might tremble now for her child, standing so terribly alone in the midst of a seething sea of danger and temptations?' CHAPTER XVII. AT CRAIGENGOWAN. With the new understanding--the tacit engagement that existed between herself and Vivian Hammersley--Finella writhed with annoyance when privately and pointedly spoken to on the subject of her 'cousin' Shafto's attentions and hopes. 'Grandmamma,' said she to Lady Fettercairn, 'I don't see why I may not marry whom I please. I am not like a poor girl who has nothing in the world. Indeed, in that case I am pretty sure that neither you nor cousin Shafto would want me.' 'She must settle soon,' said Lady Fettercairn, when reporting this plain reply to Lady Drumshoddy. 'I certainly shall not take her to London again, yet awhile.'