Lady Teigne's drawing-room was in full progress, and Claire was working hard at her tambour frame, earning money respectably, and listening to the coming and going of the visitors, when there was a tap at her bedroom door, and the maid Eliza entered. "If you please, miss," said Eliza, and stopped. "Yes, Eliza," and the soft white hand remained suspended over the canvas, with the needle glittering between the taper fingers. "If you please, miss, there's that young man at the kitchen door." "That young man?" "The soldier, miss; and he do look nice: Mr James Bell." There was a flush in Eliza's face. It might have been that which fled from Claire's, leaving it like ivory. "Where is your master?" "He went out on the parade, miss." "And Mr Morton?" "Hush, miss! he said I wasn't to tell. He bought two herrings of Fisherman Dick at the back door, and I believe he've gone to the end of the pier, fishing." "I'll come down, Eliza." Eliza tripped off to hurry down to the handsome young dragoon waiting in the kitchen, and wonder whether he was Miss Claire's sweetheart, and wish he were hers, for he did look so lovely in his uniform and spurs. As soon as Claire was alone she threw herself upon her knees beside her bed, to rise up at the end of a minute, the tears in her eyes, and a troubled look covering her handsome face with gloom. Then she hurried down, barely escaping Major Rockley, who did contrive to raise his hat and direct a smile at her before she was gone--darting in at the empty breakfast-room door, and waiting there trembling till the Major had passed the window and looked up in vain to see if she were there. "What a coincidence," she thought, as her heart beat painfully, and a smarting blush came in her cheeks. But the Major was gone; there was no fear of encountering him now; and she hurried into the kitchen, where a handsome, bluff-looking, fair young man of goodly proportions, who sat stiffly upright in his dragoon undress uniform, was talking to Eliza, who moved from the table against which she had been leaning, and left the kitchen. "Oh, Fred dear," cried Claire, as the blond young soldier rose from his chair, took her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly. "Why, Claire, my pet, how are you?" he cried; and Eliza, who had peeped through the key-hole, gave her foot a spiteful stamp. "So miserable, Fred dear. But you must not come here." "Oh, I won't come to the front, and disgrace you all; but hang it, you might let me come to the back. Getting too proud, I suppose." "Fred! don't talk so, dear. You hurt me." "Well, I won't, pet. Bless you for a dear, sweet girl. But it does seem hard." "Then why not try and leave the service, Fred? I'll save all I can to try and buy you out, but you must help me."