"Mr. Caradoc," interrupted the girl, now blushing furiously behind her fan, "your moments will soon become minutes!" "Would that the minutes might become hours, and the hours, days and years, could I but spend them with you! Listen to me, Miss Lloyd--" "Not at present--do, pray, excuse me--I wish to speak with Dora." But instead of having her hand released, it was now pressed by Caradoc between both of his. "I will not detain you very long," said he, sadly, almost reproachfully; "you know that I love you; every time my eyes have met yours, every time I have spoken, my voice must have told you that I do dearly, and if the fondest emotions of my heart--" "A soldier's heart, of which little scraps and shreds have been left in every garrison town?" "Do not laugh at my honest earnestness!" urged Caradoc, with a deep sigh. "Pardon me, I do not laugh; O think not that I could be guilty of such a thing!" replied Winifred, colouring deeper than ever. Beautiful though she was, and well dowered too, this was the first proposal or declaration that had been made to her. The speaker was eminently handsome, his voice and eyes were full of passion and earnestness, and she could not hear him without a thrill of pleasure and esteem. "I know that I am not worthy of you, perhaps; but--" "I thank you, dear Mr. Caradoc, but--but--more is impossible." "Impossible--why?" She grew quite pale now, but he still retained her hand; and her change of colour was, perhaps, unseen by him, for there was little light in the conservatory, the evening clouds being dark and dense without. "Miss Lloyd--Winifred--dearest Winifred--I love you, love you with all my heart and soul!" "Do not say so, I implore you!" said she in an agitated voice, and turning away her head. "Do you mean to infer that you are already engaged?" "No." "Or that you love another?" "That is not a fair question," she replied, with a little hauteur of manner. "It is, circumstanced as I am, and after the avowal I have made." "Well, I do--not." "And yet you cannot love me? Alas, I am most unfortunate!" "Let this end, dear Mr. Caradoc," said Winifred, almost sobbing, and deeply repenting that she had taken his arm for a little promenade that was to end in a proposal. Phil, being in full uniform, played with, or swung somewhat nervously, the tassels of his crimson sash, a favourite resort of young officers when in any dubiety or dilemma. After a little pause-- "May I speak to Sir Madoc on the subject?" he asked. "No." "Perhaps my friend Harry Hardinge might advise--" "Nay, for Heaven's sake don't confer with him on the matter at all!" "Why?" said he, startled by her earnestness. "Would you make love to me through _him_--through another?" "You entirely mistake my meaning." "What _do_ you mean?" "Simply what I have said; that I love you, esteem and admire you; that you are, indeed, most dear to me, and that if I had the approval--"