He told how long he must serve before he had the claim; how much longer, probably, before he could have the chance to be promoted. Then, as she continued silent, he went on, emboldened by the darkness and the solitude, for they were a little apart from the others, and no one could see any thing distinctly. “I am not sure whether I ought to say it, but I have so longed to express――do not be angry with me for mentioning the subject――to express my gratitude to you for the trouble you took for my benefit. I have never dared speak of it before. Perhaps I may not have another opportunity.” “I was very glad to do it,” said Dora, hurriedly; “but _you_ owe me no thanks, it was for Hilary I asked; you know I had never seen you then!” “I am perfectly aware of that; I never flattered myself it was personal regard for me; the kindness, I know, was to Hilary; but the benefit was to myself. Whatever I felt at the time, I can only say now, the rank is dearer to me, when I remember from whose hand I received it; and my earnest wish not to disgrace my name, my profession, and my country, is changed into a longing, ardent desire, to show that I am sensible of the honor done me, and will do any thing, lay down my life, were it necessary, to try and deserve it.” “Heaven forbid!” murmured Dora; “don’t say such dreadful words; you make me feel as if I should be a murderess. Please don’t be too anxious to distinguish yourself.” “I hope you will never have to blush for your kindness, Miss Barham. There is little danger in these times of peace of any thing leading me to too great distinction.” “And I――oh, Mr. Duncan! if your promotion should lead to any misfortune, I should never forgive myself for having interfered; I could never look at Hilary again.” Dora spoke with great emotion. “Nay, do not distress yourself, dear Miss Barham; events and their results are not in our own hands, and we are not responsible for them. We have but to do and dare; you in small things at home, perhaps; I in more distant, but may be, not more trying scenes abroad; to go forward bravely, trusting heartily in Providence, do our duty firmly, and leave the rest to heaven, that is our best as well as our wisest course; and if the end should be stormy, let us still trust and be strong.” “I never was strong; I never can be brave. I am afraid of storms, and whenever some people tell me one thing is right, and others declare the contrary, as so often happens to me, then I become so puzzled, that I can do nothing at all. You do not know the misery of indecision.” “No; but we all have the compass and chart to guide us, and mostly find a pilot, if the passage is very shoal, and the rocks are intricate, and the navigation too puzzling for us; and there are light-houses, and buoys too, to direct us right. Do you understand me?”