Reginald Trevor had the full benefit of their tolerance in that respect: passed among them as a rare good fellow; no harm in him, save what affected himself. To use a common phrase, he was his own worst enemy. Beginning life penniless, he was no better off at the commencement of his military career; and his spendthrift habits had kept him the same ever since. At that hour, when seen coming down the road--save his sword, horse, clothing; and equipments--he could not call anything his own. These, however, were all of the best; for he was a military dandy, and, despite poverty, always contrived to rig himself out in grand array. Just now he was well up in everything, though possibly nothing had been paid for--horse, clothing, nor accoutrements. But he had got a good post, which enabled him to get good credit, and that satisfied him all the same. Thrown out of commission--as Lunsford and others after their return from the North--he had lived for some months in London as best he could; often at his wits' end. But swords were now once more in demand, with men who could wield them; and Sir John Wintour, who had commenced fortifying his mansion at Lydney to hold it for the King, casting about for the right sort to defend it, chose Reginald Trevor as one of them. For some weeks antecedent to the time of his introduction to the reader, he had been in Sir John's service; acting in a mixed capacity, military and political, with some duties appertaining to the civil branch of administration. These had taken him all over the Forest of Dean, introducing him into many a house where he had hitherto been a stranger. But of all honoured by his visit, there was only one he cared ever returning to. It he could revisit again and again; had done so; and would have been glad to stay by it for the rest of his life. A lone house, too, though a mansion, standing remote from anything that could be called city, or even town; remote from other houses of its class. It may seem strange such a solitary habitation should have attractions for a man of his character; but not when its name is given--for it was Hollymead. This known, it needs no telling why Reginald Trevor was attracted thither; only to specify which of the two girls was the loadstone that drew him. Even this may be guessed--not likely Sabrina, but very likely Vaga. And Vaga it was. He had fallen in love with her, passionately, madly; and, stranger still, purely; for, in all likelihood, it was the first honest love of his life. Honest it was, however; and honestly he had been acting so far; his courtship respectful, and free from the bold rude advances which, as a rule, marked the conduct of the Cavaliers. For, despite all said to the contrary, their behaviour to women was more "gallantry" than gallant, and anything but chivalrous.