'Oh, Shafto, how hard-hearted you are!' exclaimed Dulcie, restraining her tears with difficulty. 'Am I? So he has left you--gone away--become a soldier; well, I don't think that a paying kind of business. Why bother about him?' 'Why--Shafto?' 'It will be strange if you do so long.' 'Wherefore?' 'Because, to my mind, a woman is seldom faithful, unless it suits her purpose to be so; and in this instance it won't suit yours.' Dulcie's eyes sparkled with anger, though they were eyes that, fringed by the longest lashes, looked at one usually sweetly, candidly, with an innocent and fearless expression. Her bosom heaved, as she said-- 'Florian will gain a name for himself, I am sure; and if he dies----' Her voice broke. 'If not in the field it will be where England's heroes usually die.' 'Where?' 'In the workhouse,' was the mocking response of Shafto; and he thought, 'If he is killed by a Zulu assegai, or any other way, to prevent exposure or public gossip, the game will still lie in my hands.' In the public prints Dulcie had of course seen details of the episode of Lieutenants Melville and Coghill, and their attempts to save that fatal colour, which was afterwards found in the Buffalo, and decorated with immortelles by the Queen at Osborne; the papers also added that the colour-sergeant who accompanied them was missing, and that his body had not been found. _Missing!_ As no name had yet been given, Dulcie was yet mercifully ignorant of what that appalling word contained for her! 'Already you appear to be quite at home here in Craigengowan,' said Shafto, after an awkward pause. 'I am at home,' replied Dulcie simply; 'and hope this may be the happiest I have had since papa died.' (But she doubted that, with Shafto as an inmate.) 'I am glad to hear it; but you don't mean to treat me--an old friend--as you have done?' 'Friend!' she exclaimed, and laughed a little bitter laugh, that sounded strange from lips so fresh, so young and rosy. 'You have not yet accepted my hand.' 'Nor ever shall, Shafto Gyle,' said she defiantly, and still withholding hers. 'Melfort!' said he menacingly. 'I knew and shall always know you as Shafto Gyle.' It was not quite a random speech this, but it stung the hearer. He crimsoned with fury, and thought--'She is as vindictive as Finella. Has she discovered _anything about me_?' 'Shafto, do you know that the dressing-bell was rung some time since?' said Lady Fettercairn with the same asperity, as she appeared in the corridor. Both started. How long had she been there, and what had she overheard? was in the mind of each. CHAPTER VII. FEARS AND SUSPICIONS. 'Well, Dulcie,' said Shafto, who, full of his own fears, contrived to confront her alone before the dinner, which was always a late one at Craigengowan, 'won't you even smile--now that we are for a little time apart--for old acquaintance sake?' 'How can I smile, feeling as I do--and knowing what I do?'