Gervase Orme had suffered with the rest. He had seen poor Simon Sproule bury two of his children, and all the humour out of it, had listened to the heart-broken little man declare that God had visited him for his cowardice. The wasted faces and hollow cheeks that he met began to haunt his dreams; it became his only relief to lose himself in action and forget the horrors he had seen. His visits to the Rawdon household lightened the gloom a little. Dorothy bore her troubles with a quiet strength that put his manhood to shame, and alone in the household declared that the garrison should keep their guard while one stone stood upon another. Since De Laprade´s coming, Gervase´s visits had not been so frequent, for it was now impossible for him to find Dorothy alone during the day. The light badinage of the Vicomte jarred on his nerves, and it might be without knowing it he had become jealous of his presence. For the Vicomte´s admiration of the girl was open and declared and though he treated her with a quiet deference, it was plain he would willingly have surrendered his cousinship for a closer relation still. Dorothy appeared unconscious of his advances and turned away his flattery with a quiet smile. Gervase had not called for several days, and had not seen any member of the household during that time. He was surprised to receive a note in Dorothy´s hand, asking him to call upon her during the evening, if his duties permitted him. It was the first letter he had ever received from her, and though he could not surmise its cause, his heart beat somewhat faster in his breast, as he pressed it to his lips in the quiet of his room. Yes, it was Dorothy´s hand, like herself, very strong and free, yet full of grace; and the words: “Yours in confidence, Dorothy Carew,” sent him forthwith into a pleasant reverie full of tender hopes. All day he went about his work with a light and buoyant heart, with the precious missive out of which he had read so much carefully buttoned up in his breast, and did his duty none the worse for thinking of the girl who wrote it. When he called he was shown into the room by Jasper´s servant Swartz, and Dorothy was waiting to receive him. “I hope, Miss Carew,” said Gervase, “there is nothing wrong--that Lady Hester is not worse?” “My aunt is very well,” Dorothy answered, “but a little nervous and excited. This is a trying time for her, but she bears up wonderfully. I did not think she could have endured so much with so great patience.” “And the Vicomte?” “Nay, he is well. My brother has lately kept much to his own room, and Victor has grown tired of our society and joins him often there. How they spend their hours I hardly know, but I think they both are fond of play, and give themselves to cards. Your hours are spent otherwise, Mr. Orme.” “Yes,” Gervase answered, “but you see I am a soldier and have my work to look to.”