Before Heathcote had well heard the words, his name was called out, and a slight, boyish figure threw his arms about him. “Charley, how glad I am to see you!” cried he. “Agincourt!--is this you?” said Heathcote, blushing deeply as he spoke. “Yes, I have had my own way at last; and I'm going to India too.” “I am not,” said Heathcote, bitterly. “They 'll not have me at the Horse Guards; I am too old, or too something or other for the service, and there's nothing left me but to enter the ranks.” “Oh, Charley,” cried the other, “if you only knew of the breaking heart you have left behind you!--if you only knew how _she_ loves you!” Was it that the boyish accents of these few words appealed to Heathcote's heart with all the simple force of truth?--was it that they broke in upon his gloom so unexpectedly,--a slanting sun-ray piercing a dark cloud? But so it is, that he turned away, and drew his hand across his eyes. “I was off for a day's hunting down in Leicestershire,” said Agincourt. “I sent the nags away yesterday. Come with me, Charley; we shall be back again to-morrow, and you 'll see if my old guardian won't set all straight with the War-Office people for you. Unless,” added he, in a half-whisper, “you choose in the mean while to put your trust in what I shall tell you, and go back again.” “I only hope that I may do so,” said Heathcote, as he wrung the other's hand warmly, “and I'd bless the hour that led me here this morning.” It was soon arranged between them that Agincourt should drive round by Heathcote's lodgings and take him up, when he had packed up a few things for the journey. O'Shea was so sound asleep that he could scarcely be awakened to hear his companion say “good-bye.” Some vague, indistinct idea floated before him that Heathcote had fallen upon some good fortune, and, as he shook his hand, he muttered,-- “Go in and win, old fellow; take all you can get, clear the beggars out, that's _my_ advice to you.” And with these sage counsels he turned on his pillow, and snored away once more. “Wasn't that Inch-o'-brogue I heard talking to you?” asked Agincourt. “Yes. The poor fellow, like myself, is sorely hard up just now.” “My old governor must get him something. We 'll think of him on our return; so jump in, Charley, or we shall be late for the train.”