"A letter from Cosmo! It is for you, Winny--the careless young dog, he has not written here for six months--not even to thank me for paying that precious gambling debt of his, lost among those popinjays of the 10th Hussars. Then there was that devilish scrape with the French dancer, whom he took down to Brighton with Uxbridge's son, Paget of the 7th, and that set----" "Hush--remember Flora!" whispered Lady Rohallion. "And the duel, too," persisted the old lord; "pah! in my time we didn't fight about such trumpery ware as French dancers. But what says Cosmo?" "He comes home by the next mail," replied Lady Rohallion, a bright and motherly smile spreading like sunshine over her face; "how I shall rejoice to see him--the dear boy!" "A _dear_ boy, indeed!" said his lordship; "his Guards' life has cost me ten thousand guineas, if it has cost me a sixpence, Winny." "Cosmo is coming," said Lady Rohallion, pointedly; "do you hear, Flora?" "Yes, madam," replied Flora, colouring, and casting a furtive glance at Quentin, who appeared to be solely occupied with his coffee and kippered salmon. "Cosmo writes that he has succeeded, by a death-vacancy, to the majority of his battalion of the Guards, which, of course, gives him the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the army." "As captain he has enjoyed that for some years." "He has therefore applied for the command of a line regiment." "That will be simple enough, as so many second battalions are being raised just now for this projected expedition to Spain." "The Duke of York has promised that his wish shall be gratified, and he has obtained a few months' leave, to come down here and see us--to have, as he says, a shot at the birds and a day's fly-fishing with John Girvan, in the Doon, before he returns to active service." "And we shall see him, then----" "In three days--three days at furthest, Flora," she added, with a glance at Miss Warrender. "Bravo! you shall see something like a soldier, Flora, when Cosmo returns--something like what I was, about the time of Saratoga; eh, Jack Andrews?" "Yes, my lord," responded Andrews, "coming to attention," as well as a man might with a hissing tea-urn in his hand. "Send up the housekeeper, Andrews," said Lady Rohallion, "we must have the Master's rooms put in order, and also one for his valet; for I suppose he comes here with him." "If so fine a knight of the shoulder-knot can tolerate Rohallion," said his lordship, laughing. "Come with me, Flora; I know, child, how glad you will be to assist me," added Lady Winifred taking Miss Warrender's hand, and leading her away, while Quentin, whose heart beat painfully, appeared to be busy with a newspaper. It detailed how forty thousand Frenchmen were being foiled before Zaragoza's walls of mud, yet it seemed all a maze to poor Quentin, and he saw not how Flora's rich colour deepened as she withdrew. The Master was coming to Rohallion!