Of all this, and much more, with reference to her cousin had Hester Maule read in the public prints; but little or nothing of his adventures in the East could she glean from him, as he seemed very diffident and loth to speak of himself, unlike her father, Sir Harry, who was never weary of his reminiscences of the war in Central India, particularly the siege and capture of Jhansi under Lord Strathnairn, of gallant memory. So the bearing of Roland Lindsay at the battle of Kashgate and elsewhere had proved that he was worthy of the old historic line from which he sprang; and that there was a latent fire, energy, and spirit of the highest kind under his calm, easy, and pleasant exterior. CHAPTER IV. PLAYING WITH FIRE. And now, a few days subsequently, while idling after dinner over coffee and a cigar, with his pretty cousin and Sir Harry, in the latter's study, a little room set apart by him for his own delectation, where he could always find his tobacco jars, the Army Lists, East Indian Registers, and so forth, ready at hand--a 'study' hung round with whips and spurs, fishing and shooting gear, a few old swords, and furnished with Singapore chairs, tiger skins, and a couple of teapoys, or little tables, Roland Lindsay obtained a little more insight into family matters that had transpired daring his absence while soldiering against the False Prophet in the East. Sir Harry was a tall and handsome man, nearer his seventieth than his sixtieth year, with regular aquiline features, keen gray eyes, and closely shaven, all save a heavy moustache, which was, like his hair, silver white; and though somewhat feebler now by long Indian service and wounds, he looked every inch, an aristocratic old soldier and gently but decidedly he spoke to his nephew of troubles ahead, while Hester's white hands were busy among her Berlin wools, and she glanced ever and anon furtively, but with fond interest, at her young kinsman, who apparently was provokingly unconscious thereof.