But before the 'Queen's morning drum' has announced in Aldershot the morning on which the regiments march for embarkation--and before Bevil Goring discovers the lost traces of his lost love--we have the two last appeals to record of two pairs of lovers, appeals which had very different sequels eventually; and the first we shall relate is that of Jerry Wilmot. CHAPTER VII. JERRY'S LAST APPEAL. 'The last time we three shall ride out of this gate together. Whenever I do anything with a conviction that it is for the last time, I always feel unconsciously a kind of sadness come over me. What do you think, Jerry?' The speaker was Goring, as he, Dalton, and Jerry Wilmot quitted the North Camp on horseback and separated--the two former, in hunting costume, to have a 'spin' with the Royal Buckhounds, the latter to the household at Wilmothurst, to which an hour or two more brought him by train; and to the last interview with his mother, one brief enough--too brief for Jerry's taste, as he found Lady Wilmot--afternoon tea over--preparing to pay some carriage visits in the vicinity. Her French maid, Mademoiselle Florine, was in the act of dressing her ladyship's hair, and, as that was a very important matter, she could barely turn her head to bid farewell to Jerry, who stood near her looking irresolute, reproachful, and wistful with his heart and his eyes full together. Lady Julia Wilmot, whilom a graceful beauty--a handsome woman still--had a theory that worry of any kind told unfavourably on the female face, that thought wrinkled the forehead, puckered the eyes and mouth, and consequently she never thought or worried herself about anything, and therefore was wonderfully young-looking and smooth-visaged for her years--being one of the best preserved women in England. She had a marquise air of bygone days about her, as the flattering Mademoiselle Florine often said, and suggesting to her mind patches and powdered hair, a long stomacher, hoop or sacque, and pomander ball. 'Actually going, and to that horrid place, my poor boy,' she said, without quite turning her face towards him. 'You should have gone into the Guards, Jerry, and have done your soldiering in Pall Mall and at Windsor.' 'The Guards, mother,' exclaimed Jerry, as he thought of his mortgages. 'Before I return, if I ever return at all, you may have to cut down the Wilmot woods, and put down your carriages and horses.' 'Why, and for what?' 'To pay Mr. Chevenix his overdue interest.' 'Don't talk of him. I detest his name. By the way, Twesildown calls there occasionally, I believe, the result of your introduction at the ball--and has given the girl a huge fox-terrier.' 'A fox-terrier. Curious present for a lady.' 'Very suitable in this instance, I should say.' 'And now, mother dearest--good-bye.'