"Now do let us be rational, dearest Denzil," said she smoothing her hair and quickly adjusting her shawl, collar, and gloves, as a turn of the road brought them in sight of the cantonments and a patrol of the 5th Cavalry under a Duifodar riding slowly along; and on their drawing a little nearer her father's house prudence on Rose's part led her to suggest that Denzil should leave her. "Good-bye till to-morrow--you will call and see us, of course," said she, as he alighted from the phaeton; "dear Denzil," she added, her eyes beaming with their usual witchery and waggery the while, "have we not enjoyed the band to-day?" He knew not what he replied as she drove off and once or twice turned to kiss her hand to him, while lingeringly and with his heart swelling with all that had passed, he turned from the Kohistan road towards his somewhat squalid quarters in the old Afghan fort. The secret understanding between them seemed to be growing deeper! What was to be the sequel, and what would the General say? But, as yet, prudence had suggested neither one idea nor the other to Denzil. It was well for him, as after mess, he lay on his charpoy, or camp-bed, indulging in a quiet cigar and plunged in happy reverie, dreaming over all the events of that delightful drive by the Lake of Istaliff, that he did not overhear a few words of a conversation regarding him, and taking place at that precise time in a corner of General Trecarrel's drawing-room. "Take care, Rose," Mabel was saying; "I have heard of your solitary drive to-day from Polwhele, though papa has not--a drive in defiance of the dreadfully disturbed state of the people hereabout--nearly all in insurrection, in fact. Mr. Devereaux is only a very junior subaltern, and the Civil Service are scarce enough up here certainly; but remember that cloudy story about his family which we heard at Porthellick." "I care not," replied Rose, looking up from a fauteuil on which she was languidly reclining, her whole occupation being the opening and shutting of a beautiful fan given to her by some forgotten sub of Sale's Light Infantry; "the poor fellow loves me----" "He has told you so?" "Yes--so I shan't betray his home secret, if there is one." "Yet you would betray himself?" "Don't say so, Mab?" "Why?" "It sounds so horrid." "But when Audley Trevelyan--the heir to a peerage comes----" "Audley seems to find attraction enough in Bombay," said Rose, with an air of pique; "so please attend to Waller and his long fair whiskers, my dear sister, I am quite able to take care of myself. Besides, Mab, this lad Devereaux is only one among many." "But to him you may be one--_the one_--one only Rose." "I know it," was the pitiless reply. CHAPTER IX. ADVENTURE IN CABUL.