Many officers and men had been killed and wounded; among the latter were Sir Robert Sale, who received a ball in his left leg, and Lieutenant O'Brien, of the 13th, whose skull was fractured by a shot as he attempted to storm the rocks at the head of his company. Such was the story of that protracted fight as it reached Cabul, and reference to it now shed somewhat of gravity over even the lively Rose Trecarrel; for among the officers of the two regiments attacked--especially of the dashing 13th, Prince Albert's Own Light Infantry--many were known to her, and had deemed her the chief attraction of the band-stand and the daily promenade. But regrets were short, for something of the off-hand recklessness to danger and even death, incident to military society in such a place as Cabul, pervaded even the tenor of female life there; and the subject was soon dismissed. "A mounted _tchopper_ accompanied Mr. Audley," said Mabel to Denzil, whose saddened face interested her; "and so we have had quite a bale of newspapers from England." "A bale?" repeated Denzil, mechanically, his eyes seeking those of Rose. "Yes, positively. Three months' newspapers at least, though not one letter; and thus the obituaries and marriages in the _Times_ become so perplexing to us here." "I brought some letters for the army up with me from Bombay," said Audley Trevelyan, "and among them, Devereaux, I observed one for you--the name had, somehow, an attraction for me." "From home!" exclaimed Denzil, starting, for only those who are so far from Europe as he was then can know how much is concentrated in that single word, "home." "I trust so." "Then I must go to my quarters at once." "Nay, Devereaux," said Waller, "moderate your impatience, if the letter is from some fair one----" "I have no correspondent but my--my sister Sybil," said Denzil, with a flash in his eyes and a quiver of the lip. "But you must wait, my good fellow," said Waller, patting him kindly on the shoulder; "you remember that we promised to ride on the Staff of the Envoy, to make up a gallant show, and to impress, if possible, the Sirdir." "My horse is not here." "But mine is, and is quite at your service," said Audley, bowing to Denzil, who was in an agony of impatience to peruse his long-wished-for letter. "All right," added Waller, looking at his watch; "and now we must be off--must tear ourselves away." He glanced smilingly to Mabel as he spoke.