"That this scoundrel--this _roue_--this libertine--dared to cast his vile eyes on as sweet and pure a girl as ever breathed. Look here, Colonel Mellersh--no, no--my dear old friend--I found that dog insulting Miss Denville." "Where?" "Away there, beyond the Downs, out past the fishermen's cottages." "How came Claire Denville out there alone with one of the wildest officers at the barracks?" "Heaven knows," cried Richard. "I tell you I found him grossly insulting her, and I took the dog's whip from him, and thrashed him till my arm ached." "And the lady flung herself into your arms, called you her gallant, her brave preserver, and you embraced and swore fidelity, while the wicked villain, the dog that you had thrashed, sneaked off snarling, with his tail between his legs." Richard turned upon him fiercely, but he checked his anger as he met the Colonel's mocking eyes. "You do not know Claire Denville," he said coldly. "But, Dick, lad, come--there was the embracing and thanks?" "Miss Denville is a sweet, true lady," said Richard, "whom I fear I may never win." "Never win!" said the Colonel mockingly. "Dick, Dick, what a child you are! I used, a year or two back, to be glad you were so different to the other men here; but now I almost regret that you have not led a faster life. You are such an innocent boy." "Shall we turn back?" said Richard abruptly. "Turn back, man, no. We have not said a word yet about your meeting. Don't be angry with me, lad. Believe me, I am one of your truest friends." "I know it," cried Richard warmly; "but don't talk of my love affair. We shall never agree till the scales of prejudice have dropped from your eyes." "Till the scales of a boyish folly have dropped from yours, Dick. Well, we shall be in accord some day. If I'm wrong I'll humbly ask your pardon." "And if I'm wrong I will yours," cried Richard. "Now, then, what of Payne's visit?" "You will have to meet the Major," said the Colonel gravely. "Yes, I suppose so. He could not forgive such an insult as that." "You treat it very lightly, Dick. The consequences may be very grave." "I hope not," said Richard. "I am not a soldier, but I am not going to show the white feather, even if I wear it in my heart." "Not you," said the Colonel, as he tapped his companion on the shoulder. "But I should have liked you to be fighting on account of some other lady." "And I should not," cried Richard. "Is this likely to be serious?" "I should be no true friend to you, my lad, if I concealed the truth from you. It may be very serious." "For me?" "I don't say that." "But I never fired a pistol in my life, and I fence horribly." "It will be pistols, Dick. I arranged that it should be. But you will be cool?" "I hope I shall be just as I am now," said Richard calmly. The Colonel looked at him intently, but no nerve showed a tremor.