"And some bread-and-butter Miss now a-bed, perhaps, in England will console him in the future, if the memory of me survive so long." "Mabel says you are over head and ears in love with him." "Psha! how can _you_ talk so? I am out of my teens, and the time has gone by for me falling over head and ears for anybody. Come, don't be foolish, friend Audley," she continued, gazing into the same eyes which looked so softly into those of Sybil by the lonely moorland tarn. "Do you think," she added, laughing, "I have been writing 'Mrs. _and_ Ensign Devereaux' in my blotting-pad, just to see how the conjunction looked; for Denzil, you know, poor fellow, is very young and only an ensign." Denzil felt as if petrified; and but last night he had risked his life to procure a bauble for her! "But you certainly have been letting him make love to you," resumed the stranger, in a tone of combined reproval and banter. "Well, it is rather pleasant to have a nice foolish boy to make love to one, to tease and to laugh at." "Oh, indeed!" His tone was almost contemptuous; but in her vanity Rose failed to perceive this. It was not eavesdropping, hearing all this, which passed rapidly, for the Hindoo had formally announced Denzil; but so absorbed were the quartette in themselves that they neither saw nor heard him. Then as he paused irresolutely with cap and pipe-clayed gloves in hand, he heard more than certainly even Rose, in her most rantipole mood, ever meant he should hear. To say truth, she had been grievously piqued that Audley had come out overland, instead of with her and Mabel in the Indiaman; and hence she was disposed to exert the full power of her charms, and use all her arts to lure him into flirting with--if not of absolutely loving--her; and for the time poor Denzil seemed to be already forgotten or only remembered as a subject for merriment. But as yet, at least, Audley Trevelyan was proof against all her wiles and smiles. He thought only of the little girl at home now--she whose brother he was certain might abhor and shun him for his somewhat selfish treatment of her; for he knew not that Denzil had heard nothing of the little love scenes that had passed at Porthellick. Suddenly Denzil caught the eye of Rose as he drew nearer, and starting and growing rather pale in the fear of what he might have heard, she exclaimed, nervously, "Oh! Mr. Devereaux, welcome! Allow me to introduce you--Mr. Devereaux, Cornish Light Infantry,--Mr. Trevelyan, one of yours, just arrived--papa's new aide-de-camp, you know." Denzil bowed with anything but a satisfied air to "papa's new aide-de-camp," who presented his hand with more than polite cordiality, and muttered something about "the sincere pleasure" it gave him, et cetera.