A. L. WREN. CHAPTER X. MUCH ADO ABOUT ALMOST NOTHING—A TROOPER. Mr. Ormonde Delorme, Second Lieutenant of the 34th Lancers, sat in his quarters at Aldershot, reading and re-reading with mingled feelings a letter from the woman he loved. It is one thing to extract a promise from The Woman that she will turn to you for help if ever your help should be needed (knowing that there could be no greater joy than to serve her at any cost whatsoever, though it led to death or ruin), but it is quite another thing when that help is invited for the benefit of the successful rival! To go to the world’s end for Lucille were a very small matter to Ormonde Delorme—but to go across the road for the man who had won her away, was not. For Dam _had_ won her away from him, Delorme considered, inasmuch as he had brought him to Monksmead, time after time, had seen him falling in love with Lucille, had received his confidences, and spoken no warning word. Had he said but “No poaching, Delorme,” nothing more would have been necessary; he would have kept away thenceforth, and smothered the flame ere it became a raging and consuming fire. No, de Warrenne had served him badly in not telling him plainly that there was an understanding between him and his cousin, in letting him sink more and more deeply over head and ears in love, in letting him go on until he proposed to Lucille and learnt from her that while she liked him better than any man in the world but one—she did not love him, and that, frankly, yes, she _did_ love somebody else, and it was hopeless for him to hope…. He read the letter again:— “MY DEAR ORMONDE, “This is a begging letter, and I should loathe to write it, under the circumstances, to any man but such a one as you. For I am going to ask a great deal of you and to appeal to that nobleness of character for which I have always admired you and which made you poor Dam’s hero from Lower School days at Wellingborough until you left Sandhurst (and, alas! quarrelled with him—or rather with his memory—about me). That was a sad blow to me, and I tell you again as I told you before, Dam had not the faintest notion that _I_ cared for _him_ and would not have told me that he cared for me had I not shown it. Your belief that he didn’t trouble to warn you because he had me safe is utterly wrong, absurd, and unjust. “When you did me the great honour and paid me the undeserved and tremendous compliment of asking me to marry you, and I told you that I could not, and _why_ I could not, I never dreamed that Dam could care for me in that way, and I knew that I should never marry any one at all unless he did.