“Let me introduce my friend Lieutenant Jasper to you, my dear,” he said, in his full strong voice, which was yet unpleasant to the ear. “We met at Captain Johnstone’s, and, as it is a long way to go to the barracks for lunch, I asked him to come and take pot-luck with us.” The cherubic Jasper had screwed an eyeglass into his round eye, and through it was contemplating Eva with astonished ecstasy; but, like most very beautiful women, she was used to that sort of thing, and it only amused her faintly. Mr. Plowden, too, was used to it, and took it as a personal compliment. “I am delighted,” she murmured, and held out her hand. The cherub, suddenly awaking to the fact, dropped his eyeglass, and, plunging at the hand, seized it as a pike does a little fish, and shook it with enthusiasm. Eva smiled again. “Shall we go to lunch?” she said, sweetly: and they went to lunch, she sailing down in front of them with the grace of a swan. At lunch itself the conversation flagged rather—that is, Mr. Plowden talked with all the facility of an extemporary preacher; the cherub gazed at this pale dark-eyed angel; and Eva, fully occupied with her own thoughts, contributed a great many appreciative smiles and a few random remarks. Just as they were, to her intense relief, nearing the conclusion of the meal, a messenger arrived to summon Mr. Plowden to christen a dying baby. He got up at once, for he was punctilious in the performance of his duties, and, making excuses to his guest, departed on his errand, thus forcing Eva to carry on the conversation. “Have you been in Plymouth long, Mr. Jasper?” she asked. The eyeglass dropped spasmodically. “Plymouth? O dear, no; I only landed this morning.” “Landed? Indeed! where from? I did not know that any boat was in except the _Conway Castle._ “Well, I came by her, from the Zulu war, you know. I was invalided home for fever.” The cherub suddenly became intensely interesting to Eva, for it had struck her that Ernest must have come from Africa. “Indeed! I hope you had a pleasant passage. It depends so much on your fellow-passengers, does it not?” “O yes, we had a very nice lot of men on board, wounded officers mostly. There were a couple of very decent civilians, too—a giant of a fellow called Jones, and a blind baronet, Sir Ernest Kershaw.” Eva’s bosom heaved. “I once knew a Mr. Ernest Kershaw; I wonder if it is the same? He was tall, and had dark eyes.” “That’s the man; he only got his title a month or two ago. A melancholy sort of chap, I thought; but then he can’t see now. That Jones is a wonderful fellow, though—could pull two heavy men up at once, as easily as you would lift a puppy-dog. Saw him do it myself. I knew them both out there.” “Oh! Where did you meet them?”