"And Mr. Chandos himself was urgent," continued the lady, "no doubt he hoped for 'one fair daughter.'" "The fair daughter having arrived and seen her home, if I'm not mistaken, will never forgive him for his _mésalliance_." "Poor Chandos," exclaimed Mr. Lepell, "all through his life he has meant well, and done ill; he has made a mull of everything--career, profession, marriage." "Ah," said Major Gale, standing up and straightening himself, "that is the one pitfall I have eluded." "Thank you, Major Gale." "Oh, yes, with all respect to you, Mrs. Lepell, I am a timid man, and there are too many blanks. It is not everyone who is so lucky as Lepell, and draws a great prize." Here Major Gale nodded and smirked; he was rather pleased with the manner in which he had turned this delicate compliment. "There's early parade to-morrow, and I must be off, Salwey," turning to the policeman, "can I give you a lift back--you are on my road?" "Thank you, no; my road is by water. I like rowing myself to and fro these moonlight nights." "Ah, see what it is to be young and romantic!" and having made his polite adieus, the little Major effected a brisk departure. * * * * * "No need for _you_ to move yet, Brian," urged his aunt, "on such a night as this; I hate the idea of going to bed; I prefer to sit, and laze, and talk, and listen." "All right, then, I'll stop for half-an-hour. Oh, I say, Uncle Tom, I'd like to hear something more about that chap Chandos. Is it not extraordinary, a man of his class, and who has been in the Service, settling down here for life, with a half-caste family, and working in the sugar factory?" "It would seem a great deal more extraordinary, if you knew as much about him as I do," rejoined Mr. Lepell, as he lit another cheroot, crossed his legs, and evidently prepared for narration. "Why, Tom, I never dreamt that you knew his past," exclaimed his wife. "How _close_ you have been all these years." "Oh, but I was never personally acquainted with him, I merely saw him two or three times, but I heard the story. It made rather a stir some eight-and-twenty years ago. He is not aware that I am behind the scenes, and I've not been anything more to him than what you see. In the first place, he would resent any intimacy based on such reminiscences, and, secondly, his family are quite impossible; I'd far rather have to do with the Cavalhos than the Chandos lot, with their pretensions and struggling and greed." "But tell us more about Mr. Chandos," reiterated his nephew. "I bar the family, too."