She paused again, and he saw that she was growing more agitated, and that she could hardly speak. "I want you to promise me--" Here she stopped again, and looked piteously in his face, her lips refusing to frame the words she wished to say. "You wish me to promise never to take notice of the secret you betrayed just now, Miss Stuart?" She nodded quickly, and her eyes sought his in a pleading way that set him thinking of what her feelings must be for Hilton. "Give me the credit of being a gentleman, Miss Stuart," he said, at last, quietly. "I do--I do!" she said, eagerly. "Indeed I do, Mr Chumbley!" "I am an old friend of Captain Hilton. We knew one another when we were quite lads, and I exchanged into this regiment so that we might be together. He's a very good fellow, is Hilton, although he has grown so hot-headed and liable to make mistakes. I like him for many reasons, and I can't tell you how glad I am to have learned what I have to-day." "Pray say no more, Mr Chumbley," said Grey, with a troubled look. "But I shall say more, even at the risk of being considered rude," continued Chumbley. "He is making a great mistake, just as a great many more men have made the same blunder." Grey tried to speak, but the words would not come. "He'll wake up some day," continued Chumbley. "At present his eyes are dazzled." "Mr Chumbley!" said Grey, in a low, earnest, appealing tone. She only uttered the young officer's name, but the way in which it was spoken sufficed, and he bowed his head in answer, and for the next few minutes neither spoke. "Miss Stuart, you may trust me," he said, at last. "I do, Mr Chumbley," she replied, and a conscious feeling of pride and satisfaction thrilled the young soldier, as he looked in the frank grey eyes. The conversation went buzzing on all around, nobody seeming to notice him; and Chumbley began to commune with himself as he gazed straight before him now. "She's taken with Hilton," he said. "There's no mistake about it. Now, why didn't the little maid take a fancy to me? She's very nice--very nice indeed; and I think she would be as earnest and truthful as a woman could be. Isn't my luck, though--no, not my luck. "By Jove, what an idiot that Hilton is," he continued, as he glanced at the young officer, who did not seem to be aware of the fact that anyone was present but Helen, whose every look and gesture were watched with rapt attention; while from time to time she seemed to rouse herself from her languid indifferent way, and repay him with a smile. It was rather a curious scene, and as she recovered from the agitation consequent upon her little encounter with Chumbley, Grey Stuart read a good deal of what was going on around.