'Well, then, Jerry, I like you very much,' she said, coquettishly, and with an infinite sweetness of tone; 'but I shall be sorry if your persistence makes me view you differently.' 'If you like me so very much, why cannot you marry me? You would like me ever so much more afterwards.' 'It is impossible,' said Mrs. Trelawney, smiling openly now. 'Why are you so hard-hearted?' 'I am not hard-hearted. I am indifferent, that is all--what I have been made by others.' 'What others?' 'That is my secret. But, here come visitors,' said she, rising and presenting her hand. 'And let us part, Jerry, as I hope we shall meet again--good friends.' In a few minutes Jerry was tooling back to the camp again. 'Her manner is deuced mysterious,' thought he, in great perplexity. 'What can she mean? She spoke of herself as "unworthy," too. Has she a husband somewhere, after all? Oh, the devil! That can't be.' 'Where have you been, Jerry?' asked Dalton, who was again loitering in front of the guard-hut at the camp gate, with a cigar between his lips, and saw his friend coming slowly along, with the reins dropped on his horse's neck. 'I have been at Chilcote Grange,' said Jerry, almost sulkily. 'The deuce you have,' said Dalton, with surprise. 'There is nothing new in that.' 'Calling, were you?' 'Yes, and proposing to the widow _la belle_ Trelawney.' 'Nonsense!' exclaimed Dalton. 'A fact though.' 'And with what success?' asked Dalton, his colour changing perceptibly. 'None at all, old fellow; bowled out; thrown over--I may trust to your silence, I know--fairly laughed at me, and won't have me at any price, by Jove.' 'Proposed, and was refused,' said Dalton, as if speaking to himself. 'Proposed right off the reel, whatever that may mean, and was refused. But I don't mean to break my heart over it,' added Jerry, twirling and untwirling the long lash of his whip. 'And what do you mean to do?' 'Make love to some one else--get tight at the mess to-night--tight as a drum. So you may go in and win at a canter, if you choose.' 'Thanks, Jerry; but I don't mean to propose to the widow,' said Dalton, laughing. 'She has some history of her own, I think.' 'So do I,' said Jerry, angrily; 'and it is bad form for women to have histories or mysteries either.' 'Sour grapes, Jerry,' said Dalton, still laughing. 'I thought you were hit a little in that quarter yourself, Tony; but I am much mistaken if there is not more in her life than you know, or any of us is ever likely to know.' Dalton, though secretly pleased that Jerry had not met with success, was also secretly provoked at what he deemed the young fellow's over-confidence. He had felt himself--he knew not why--curiously affected when in the presence of Laura Trelawney; there was a subtle influence in her voice and smile that wakened old memories and strangely bewildered him; and especially when she sang, these stole over him and seemed to take tangible form.