"We can but wait and hope, Harry--wait and hope!" said she, while her head drooped on my shoulder, and my arm went round her. "Wait and hope, dearest, for what? My promotion?" "That would bring the end no nearer," said she, with a sad, sickly smile. "No, certainly; even to be colonel of the Royal Welsh instead of a mere sub would not enhance my value much in Lady Naseby's estimation," said I, with some bitterness. "For what then, darling?" "Some change in mamma's views regarding me." "She will never change!" "You know, Harry, that were you rich, I might marry you now--yes, and go to Turkey with you, too!" said she, with a brightness in her eyes. "Would to Heaven, then, that I were rich! But being poor--" "It is impossible." And we both sighed heavily. "I am under orders for the East, and _must_ take my turn of duty there, risking all the chances of war, ere I can think of home or marriage, Estelle; but when we part, if I am not to write to you, how shall I ever know that you think of me? how hear of your health and welfare? that you remain true to me--" "O, doubt not that!" "Nor do I; but it would be so sweet to see your writing, and imagine your voice reiterating the troth you plighted to me in that terrible time." "I shall write to you, dear, dear Harry, for I can do that freely and openly; but of you, alas! alas! I can only hear through our friends at the Court here, for you can neither write to me in London nor at Walcot Park." "May I not ask Miss Lloyd to receive enclosures for you? I shall be writing to her, and we are such old friends that she would think nothing of it." "Too old friends, I fear," said she, with a half-smiling but pointed glance; "but for Heaven's sake think not of that. She would never consent, nor should I wish her to do so. I can of course receive what letters I choose; but servants will pry, and consider what certain coats of arms, monograms, and postal marks mean; so my Crimean correspondent would be shrewdly suspected, and myself subjected to much annoyance by mamma and her views." "Her _views!_ This is the second time you have referred to them," said I, anxiously; "and they are--" "That I should marry my cousin Naseby, whom I always disliked," said Estelle, in a sad and sweetly modulated voice; "or Lord Pottersleigh, whose wealth and influence are so great that a short time must see him created an earl; but he has no chance _now_, dear Harry!"