'I am rich,' said Finella; 'I will buy him back to you--I will, I will. Do not weep, dearest Dulcie. The memory of a past that has been happy is always sweet; is it not?' 'Yes, even if the present be sad.' 'I do believe, Dulcie, that tears agree with you.' 'Why?' 'Because they make those blue eyes of yours positively lovely.' Dulcie for a moment felt pleasure. Florian had said the same thing once before, and she only half believed him; but to have it endorsed by such a girl as Finella made it valuable indeed to her. 'And Florian--I am quite _au fait_ with his name,' said Finella; 'he is a gentleman?' 'Oh, yes--yes!' exclaimed Dulcie impetuously. 'Poor fellow! Then am I to understand that there is a kind of undefined engagement between you?' 'Something of that kind,' answered Dulcie, simply. 'We knew we might have to wait for each other for years, if, indeed, we ever meet again. We never spoke of marriage quite. How could we, hopeless and poor as we were?' 'But you spoke of love, surely?' said Finella, softly and archly. 'Of love for each other--oh, yes; many, many times.' 'Well, Dulcie, I shall purchase Florian's discharge, as I have said. This kind of thing can't go on,' said Finella decidedly, unaware that neither officer nor soldier can quit the service when face to face with an enemy or at the actual seat of war. Finella was in the act of closing Dulcie's silver locket, when a voice said: 'Please to let me look at this, Miss Carlyon. I have remarked your invariable ornament.' The speaker was Lady Fettercairn, who had approached them unnoticed. Blushing deeply, Dulcie, with tremulous little fingers, re-opened the locket, expectant, perhaps, of reprehension; but Lady Fettercairn became strangely agitated. 'Lennard!' she exclaimed. 'This is my son Lennard as he looked when I saw him last.' 'Oh, no, madam, that cannot be,' said Dulcie. 'Where got you it?' 'At home in Devonshire, where the photograph was taken about a year ago.' 'Ah--true,' said Lady Fettercairn: 'when Lennard was that age--the age of this young man--the art was scarcely known. And who is he?' Dulcie hesitated. 'I have no right to ask,' said Lady Fettercairn, hauteur blending with the certainly deep interest with which she regarded the contents of the still open locket. 'One who loved me,' said Dulcie, with a kind of sob. 'And whom you love?' said the lady, stiffly. 'Yes, madam.' 'It is the image of Lennard!' continued Lady Fettercairn musingly; 'but there sounds the breakfast-bell,' she added, and turned abruptly away.