This was the 11th of September, and the march was resumed at five in the evening for the head-quarters at Kassassin, where the column found its tents pitched. Allan shared his with Cameron, and, like their comrades, they proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as they could; but it soon became known that on the morrow the Highland Brigade was to lead in the night attack upon the formidable entrenchments of Arabi Pasha at Tel-el-Kebir. 'The last bugle some of us may ever hear will sound at six to-morrow evening,' said Allan, as he and Cameron, after a picnic kind of repast, lay on the floor of the tent and smoked their Havanas, with their jackets open, and minus collars and ties, for the evening was hot then, though cold and dew came together the moment the sun went down, and then there was no light in the tent save those of the stars. 'Listen to Carslogie singing in his tent; no sombre reflections seem to come to him,' said Cameron. 'Some of us, of course, will lose the number of our mess, as the sailors say,' said Allan again, after a pause. 'Well, it is not a cheerful thought, Allan,' said Cameron; 'but life is not particularly rosy with me just now, so I am just the fellow to have a charmed one when under fire again to-morrow.' 'There is a history in all men's lives, Cameron, it is said. Well, there is a devil of a lot in mine--more than I care for.' 'You have long seemed rather low in spirit.' 'I have reason,' replied Allan, while that inexpressible longing to talk of himself and his sorrows, which seizes upon men now and then, came upon him, and he related to Cameron the whole story of his engagement with his cousin, his doubts and fears--the intrusions and outrageous insults put upon them both by Hawke Holcroft, who seemed to wield some degrading and mysterious power once--a power that was ended now; 'and,' he added, after his narrative was ended, 'I trust under heaven never to look upon her false fair face again!' Cameron heard his strange story in silent amazement. 'Can all this not be explained?' he asked. 'I want no explanation; I have been degraded enough,' replied Allan, bitterly. Cameron, strangely enough, had never, as yet, even to his early friend and comrade, made any reference to what the latter fully knew--his love for Eveline: and never once had her name escaped him during the long voyage in the Nepaul from Woolwich to Ismailia, nor even on the march towards the enemy. Poor Cameron had thought, what was the use of speaking of that matter now, when all was hopeless--all over, and for ever, between them? But now, encouraged or melted by Allan Graham's new confidence in himself, he said, 'With reference to the risks we run tomorrow, I am glad that I set my house in order, did so, indeed, before we marched from Edinburgh.' 'How?' 'About Stratherroch, or what remains of it.' 'In what way, Evan?'