“Do you know, Nelly,” continued Jack, “that when I have been camping out in the frozen passes of the Himalayas, when I have seen the hostile array in front of me; in fact,” suddenly dropping into bathos, “all the time I was in that beastly hole Afghanistan, I used to think of the little girl I had left in England.” “Indeed!” I murmured. “Yes,” said Jack, “I bore the memory of you in my heart, and then when I came back you were a little girl no longer. I found you a beautiful woman, Nelly, and I wondered whether you had forgotten the days that were gone.” Jack was becoming quite poetical in his enthusiasm. By this time he had left the old bay pony entirely to its own devices, and it was indulging in its chronic propensity of stopping and admiring the view. “Look here, Nelly,” said Jack, with a gasp like a man who is about to pull the string of his shower-bath, “one of the things you learn in campaigning is to secure a good thing whenever you see it. Never delay or hesitate, for you never know that some other fellow may not carry it off while you are making up your mind.” “It’s coming now,” I thought in despair, “and there’s no window for Jack to escape by after he has made the plunge.” I had gradually got to associate the ideas of love and jumping out of windows, ever since poor Sol’s confession. “Do you think, Nell,” said Jack, “that you could ever care for me enough to share my lot forever? could you ever be my wife, Nell?” He didn’t even jump out of the trap. He sat there beside me, looking at me with his eager gray eyes, while the pony strolled along, cropping the wild flowers on either side of the road. It was quite evident that he intended having an answer. Somehow as I looked down I seemed to see a pale, shy face looking in at me from a dark background, and to hear Sol’s voice as he declared his love. Poor fellow! he was first in the field at any rate. “Could you, Nell?” asked Jack once more. “I like you very much, Jack,” said I, looking up at him nervously; “but”--how his face changed at that monosyllable!--“I don’t think I like you enough for that. Besides, I’m so young, you know. I suppose I ought to be very much complimented and that sort of thing by your offer; but you mustn’t think of me in that light any more.” “You refuse me, then?” said Jack, turning a little white. “Why don’t you go and ask Elsie?” cried I in despair. “Why should you all come to me.” “I don’t want Elsie,” cried Jack, giving the pony a cut with his whip which rather astonished that easy-going quadruped. “What do you mean by ’all,’ Nell?” No answer. “I see how it is,” said Jack, bitterly; “I’ve noticed how that cousin of yours has been hanging round you ever since I have been here. You are engaged to him.” “No, I’m not,” said I. “Thank God for that!” responded Jack, devoutly. “There is some hope yet. Perhaps you will come to think better of it in time. Tell me, Nelly, are you fond of that fool of a medical student?”