'The future is vague!' thought Hester; 'but one thing is sure, we shall never be as we have been--what we were to each other at one time--he and I. Shall we ever meet again--who can say? The sea is treacherous with its storms and other perils--the war is too dreadful to think of! We may never, never see each other more, and the last hour he passed here may have been the last we shall have spent together in this world.' If he survived everything and came back again, could she be like the Agnes of 'David Copperfield'? She feared not. Therein she had read the story of a noble woman who had secretly loved a man all her life--even as she had loved Roland, and who yet showed no sign of sorrow when he married another woman. Agnes was David's counseller and friend until he was nearing middle age, and it was only when he asked her to be his wife that she made the simple confession of her lifelong love. She pondered over all these things as she wandered alone by the wooded Esk, the placid murmur of whose flow as it lapped among the pebbles was the only sound that broke the silence of the rocky glen, while at the same hour Roland was amid a very different scene--one of high excitement, noise, and bustle, almost uproar. Alongside a great jetty in Portsmouth Harbour H.M. troopships _Bannockburn_ and _Boyne_ were taking troops and stores on board for Alexandria, and on the poop of the former, a floating castle of 6,300 tons, Roland stood amid a group of officers, whose numbers were augmenting every few minutes, and the interest and excitement were increasing fast, as it was known that when the great white-hulled trooper cleared out the Queen had sent special orders that the ship was to keep well to the westward, that she might meet her in her own yacht and pay farewell to the troops on board, mustering about six hundred men of various arms of the service, and a host of staff and other officers, including some of Roland's regiment. A handsome fellow the latter looked in his blue braided patrol-jacket, and white tropical helmet, with his sword clattering by his side. 'When shall I be again in mufti?' thought he with a laugh (using that now familiar term that came back from Egypt of old with the soldiers of Abercrombie), and hearty greetings met him on every hand. 'Lindsay--it is! I didn't know you were rejoining,' exclaimed a brother officer, whose wounded arm was still in a sling. 'I thought your leave was not up till March.' 'I have resigned more than two months of it, Wilton,' replied Roland. 'What an enthusiast, by Jove!' 'Not more than yourself, whose wound must be green yet.' 'Welcome--Roland,' cried another, a cheery young sub. with a hairless chin like an apple; 'you are just the man we want for the work before us.' 'That is right--jolly to see you again!' said a third. 'We missed you awfully, old fellow!' exclaimed a fourth.