'My good name and my commission were all I possessed in the world, and I have lost both!' exclaimed Cecil to Fotheringhame, who grasped his hand impetuously; 'what will life be, henceforth, for me? Fotheringhame felt for him deeply, keenly, yet scarcely knew, from the depth of his own emotion, and the desperation of the crisis, what to say. 'Think of Mary Montgomerie,' he urged, after a pause. 'I do think of her, but to what end or purpose? She is further removed from me than ever. To marry her would be to deprive her of fortune and position--to place her at the mercy of the general and of Hew; and I--what have I to share with her but disgrace?' His sun had set--his day of life was over--over at its dawn and flush! His heart failed at the hopeless and penniless prospect before him; and the impossibility of having to reconstruct a whole life for the future on some new plan, and with other appliances--or die! 'My dear Fotheringhame, thanks for your sympathy,' said he; 'but the sooner I am out of this place, the better now.' 'And whither do you mean to go?' 'Heaven alone knows--I do not!' was the half-despairing response. The news spread fast, and, apart from his brother-officers, the men of his company came by sections and scores to shake his hand and bid him farewell. All felt for him, loved him and sorrowed for him, and the dark dream, seemed to be in progress still. Could it all be real? The first preparation for departure was to take from his desk the withered daisies culled from his mother's grave, and place them in his breast. An intense longing was in his heart now to be gone--to go, go, go--anywhere! 'I am going away, Tom,' said he to Atkins, who was hovering about him, and mechanically polishing the sword he would never draw again. 'Where to, sir?' asked Tom. 'I don't know where to--as yet--but I'm out of the regiment now!' 'Out of the regiment,' faltered Tom, as if it was an impossible event, even after all that had preceded it. 'Yes; I am, God help me, a broken man!' There was a sob in Tom's throat, and he ventured to wring his master's hand. 'And you leave, sir----' 'As soon as I can, Tom. Take this note to the paymaster--I'll need all the money I can get.' Tom saluted, took the note, but hurrying into his kitchen, in tremulous haste took a little packet from his knapsack and returned to place it in Cecil's hand. 'What is this?' asked the latter. 'Not much, sir. You'll excuse me, sir. I can't go away with you, but I may help you, at least.' 'But what is this--money?' 'Only a matter of ten pounds sent me by mother, to make me comfortable a bit. I am sorry it isn't more, sir; but if you'll take it to help you, for poor Tommy Atkins's sake, he'll be a proud man to-night. You've been a kind master to me, sir, and--and----' But here the private soldier fairly broke down, and wept outright, 'bo-hooing' like a whipped urchin. Falconer was greatly affected.