'Well!' exclaimed Fotheringhame, as they were again cooling their heels in the passage; 'if the proceedings of this day are published, they will read rather queerly;' to which he added something not meant for ears polite. Why prolong this account--a painful legal farce, for such the ignorance of the president, and the interference of 'the well-read' Major Rammer made it? To those who knew Cecil well, his handsome face seemed pale--a face always grave and dignified; and his eyes seemed to observe the proceedings with a strange listlessness. As afternoon drew on Major Rammer offered less opposition; Cecil was allowed to ask a few questions, as the former perhaps found himself in a minority, though most industrious in distributing slips of paper, with observations and quoted 'precedents' all round the table. The tedious proceedings were at length closed--the opinion and finding given--the punishment, whatever it was, meted out, and proceedings on which the existence--certainly the future--of Cecil Falconer seemed to depend, were despatched to the Horse Guards by the swift night mail. The weary Falconer's room that night was filled with sympathisers, and the proceedings were discussed, and 'that old pump jammer' duly stigmatised, amid the consumption of much tobacco, champagne, brandy and seltzer, long after tattoo, the roll-calling, the last farewell sound of 'lights and fires out' had pealed from the citadel gate and in the Grand Parade, and after silence and the silver moonlight fell together on the vast fortress and its rock. 'I thank all much, very much,' said Cecil with no small emotion; 'but it is no use you fellows talking: there is nothing for me now but to drift quietly away into the dark sea of ruin--it may be death!' His lips were working convulsively as he spoke. 'Let the worst come to the worst, I'll bear it like a man, and drag out the remnant of my life' (without _her_, he thought) 'an adventurer, a beggar, an emigrant--a soldier in some foreign service, perhaps--what matters it how or when the bitter end may come? I'll not shoot myself anyhow--that were the deed of a sinner and coward!' 'For God's sake, Cecil, don't run on this way! It's enough to make a fellow's heart bleed!' said Fotheringhame with much anxiety of manner. 'Who knows what becomes of those fellows who go to the dogs, or are driven there?' he asked bitterly. 'Take heart, man--take heart,' urged Dick Freeport, patting him on the shoulder: 'you'll be, at worst, put at the bottom of the list of captains; and you're not very far above that now.' 'No, no, Dick; I read dismissal in the faces of the President and that artillery fellow who was so infernally well up in Hough and Simmonds.' CHAPTER IX. A PAGE OF LIFE TURNED OVER.