LOVE AND WAR.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4259, 19 January 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

LOVE AND WAR.

(I'.- Caro! Young, in “Liverpool Weekly Courier.’’) CHAPTER I. — "MAY.” There had been a, bill of snow in the ni'di'. ; it, still-Jay a. great white sheet on I In' mountain.'', of the Snowdon range, In'* along the lowland;-! it had incited as i*. '.i'll, and in the Wirral Peninsula the n ,Truing broke* lirigid and beautiful with i a di'lightful erispnc.-s and freshness in I ln> air, and yet with a foretaste of ‘ i; 111111 r*r in the warmth of tho sun and m the gay carolling of the birds. Ilovia.ki' was looking it s best and .smelling it's -■wcete.'-l as .May Hamilton crossed Hi-" links, wending her way to a .dmllercd cool: on the rocks whence ( In l rn due views could be obtained of the / Ki'.-cc Dee, (he Welsh moiiidaiiis, and (!;■■ Welsh coast, us far as the Point of Ay.-. -She. carried Imr painting materials sCupped tegellier in one hand, and in I V.e oilier a liUh' Inmeh of wallflowers, Hi which she kept sniffing as «ho sauntcr-».-d on her slim, young figure casting h.ng shadows on the green, velvety If sjif. were really as lull as that. A - , lull, even, as Knife himself! She a ret died up one arm fo see the cifeefc, and went Ihroiigh various pantomimic •ge .lures. It was very funny. And limn, suddenly, the smile faded from her face, and her beautiful eyes grew Mid. if only Kolfe would do something—aii'.tbing. rather than follow her about v, i-1-, ■.iieli cruel persistenee. Tt was cruel, wln'ii he knew they could never Is- more (o each oilier than cousins. There was no escaping him ; and, indeed, Ai i made if perfectly clear I hat ho had mi iid enl ion of allowing her to escape him. How big and strong he was, and big .‘•lrung men were so urgently wanted now. There never was a lime when they more urgently wanted. Where was Iris pa I l int ism ? Why did lie not go naid light for his country as that other man was fighting-’ That, other man! 'day sighed as she I bought of her piviI’dse Co him. lie trusted her, dependS'd noon her for his fortune, and he should not lie disapnoinl ed. lint, ofi! how hard il was Mmifd imes to do one’s didv, Imiv doubly bard for her since Knife had divined her secret, lie knew, ;v well as ill a knew herself, that the la oping c. her promise In Captain .Hainilloo been,no more difficult and painful I'serv dav; and he took advantage of 111,-, knowledge. Kvcii bcre.ro the fimistei.'H paused at "In r side. May knew instinctively who it was coming striding .over the rocks, ami she nerved herself for the encounter, pul ting .on the little air of reserve and defiance which Rolfe Penrhyn, aecnsfonied to the adulation of women, found so fascinating. As master of a. neighbouring Manor cad. adjacent farms, with a rent-roll of seaietliiiig like £BOOO a year. Squire IVnrhyn was at once the moat popular !v milord and the most eligible narti in the pmdusiila. He lived on his pro•perl.v Hie greater part, of the year with 'lns only sister Owhitlys, who was first I In- sweetest and sauciest, most, witching cod wilful maiden that ever took heart of man captive. Since May and her iiidinrcd molliei'and little hrothem had ret m ned from India and taken np their 'abode in the seaside village where Mrs Ha mill on bad lived as a, girl, Gwladys ■spent nincli of her time at Hoylake, and v;us. us her brother candidly avowed, a considerable hindrance to him in his e ■lining. Tlic.iv was a very lender light in his l ies in he stood looking down at May now. •‘Veil are i fit cits led in tnv view,” she sciii nreseiil Iv. without looking np. “Ves; bid, von have worked enough (me day. f believe veu would snerirme the love of your life for this everlasting minding. ’When you are my ” “1 haven’t, got a love of my life,” she broke in hurriedly. “At least,” ■ with a I winge of compunction, “I don’t think

“ You don’t, i Tiink so 1 , May. Aren’t you SII.IV?” "Yes—yes. I’m sure.” ‘'■Sure of what ? Have you or have you not not a low of your life?—that is I lie question before the meeting.” “f don’t think thet is the question al nil.” “Anmver me.” His urni stole round her, his breath f’iniiod lirr cheeks; in another moment 1-r '.v.oiifd have forced a confession from her reluctant lips. “Oh. let me go.” she whispered tremulously; ‘'there’s someone coming. r ‘lt is.” in e. tone of immense relief, wind vs!” “Rightyou are!” cried a. clear, sweet voice, and a girl dressed in khaki and criir -ou, with a jockey cap set firmly on her brown curls, jumped off the hill behind them, scattering a cloud of sand, and ali.-tiling on Mr Fcnrhyn’s ont : - ‘ I died feet.

lie drew them in with a- groan ; and his sister stared at him with solemn, reproachful eyes.

“TI ie idea.” she said, "of having your feet there, Rolfe.” ‘•Well. I like that,” he returned wrath■fully. “You lame a. man for life, and I hen you ask him practically how he dare? Apologise at once, you ahandonc.l young person, or- ” Ho stretched out a threatening arm,' a ! »d (Iwhidys promptly mounted a piece of rook, well out. of his reach. , “Hoy.' do you do May P” she snid. ! dtiug her right hand in a military salute. “I’m sorry I can’t shako hands with von. hut Rolfe looks dangerous; and you look, ahem—well.” with a wicked laugh, "not precisely cold.” “hiu startle one so, Gwhulys,” May nun inured, smiling up into the velvotv brown ('.vow which were so bright and mischievous, and withal so lovihg, and line., “How did von come?”

“Rubcrl 5 drove mo over in the dog- ■ I; 1 ' 'va« going into Birkenhead, .■■'if - ~ ’

"W itv did von ivniir?” licp brother inj. I’nrwoil with nnf unnatural impatience.

“ThHV not verv civil,” pouted the '■irl ' ‘‘and when I’ve come, too. at per- • civil incon'enienco in order to do von

a >crv!cc. ! came to bring you these.” not vine the parcel she carried. and handing him some official-looking doeu-n-etds. “As thev were marked ‘hnmediate’ T thought I had better ” “How did you know I was here ?” he in--1 (-minted hep again, frowning as he reHeeled on his lost opportunity.

“I called at Alderled road and saw auntie, and she told me where I should (iml Mev. And then,” finished Gwladys innoeentlv. ‘‘l knew of course, where vnn would be.” Rolfe laughed as he h'oked at May. but slio would not. meet liis rdance, and made loom for Gwladys to sit between them.

“This is for you. May,” the girl went on. hamline her a bulky envelope. "Is it?” in a. thrilling whisper, “from him?” “Yes.’’ said May at once. “Photographs.”

"Oh. you lucky girl! May I see them ? TTow splendid he looks in his uniform. Oh and T like this one in khaki even hitler. Mbit a. fascinating desperado he looks.in (hat wide-brimmed h.yt lucked up at one side. The darling. I

.-.hall kiss him. Von don’t'l mind, do yon. May?”

“Not at all. Von may keep him if vou like.”

“Do you mean it really? Oh, thank you. May. 1 shall have it. mounted and framed and labelled 'My Hero.’ All my life,” said Gwladys, with a retrospective sigh, “f have been waiting for a man like this.”

.May’s smile was as sweet as dimples could make it. “Oh, Gwladys, ‘all your life’ only amounts to eighteen wars.”

“No rnaffer. I’ve waited. There are men.” went on. this young student of the sex. “and—men. 1 ought to know, for I. have been sampling them for years, and I can tell you. May, that heroes are in a melancholy minority. .Men, as a rule, are chiefly remarkable for their vanities, their prejudices, and (heir defierineies. Of course, there are exceptions. There’s Kolfe, for instance; and there’s this ot her man. Just fancy,” holding the photograph at arm’s length, “being loved by him.” ‘‘Love is not everything. Gwladys." “Isn't it, though? Why, ’tis love (hat makes the world go round. if I can’t marry (he man 1 love ” “If,you mean Captain Hamilton,” May interposed. ‘‘l’m afraid you can’t.” ■'Well, 1 don’t know about that. There's Knife to Oe reckoned with, you see; and what Kolfe sets his mind on (hot ho will have. ft.’s my belief no’ll make you marry him. May, and then—' “Oh, hush,” she whispered,” rising hastily, as she caught Kolfe’s eyes fixed upon her, a, strange, yearning expression in their depths. “You arc talking nonsense, Gwladys.” “Let u.s hear it,” Kolfe said, rising too. “What did you say, Gwladys. to bring tliis- beautiful blush to May’s cheeks ?”

“State secrets!” Gwladys laughed, “if you had not been so absorbed in your correspondence — — Oh, Kolfe, what is it ?” she broke olf with a. Complete change of tone and manner; “You look us if you had seen a- ghost.”

“The ghost -of a- battlefield, my pet. 1 have joined the Cheshire Imperial Yeomanry, ami sail for Booth Africa, within a week.’’

In May’s startled eyes as t Ley met his Kolfe met at last all that he wanted to know; and he drew her hand through his arm as they climbed' tho hill legal.her—Gwladys discreetly walking on in .front. '

“Von have your wish. May.” he said, smiling down at her. “I’m going away, and with God’s help I’ll fight for my country,' even as Captain .Hamilton has fought. J have not his experience, but I can keep tho saddle and shoot straight, —do not dreinhle so, my darling!— and if I live to rot urn —Tears, May? Oh, hush, child, hush! You make it hard for mo logo. What’s that? Yon never thought me an idler or wished me away ? You never meant any of the cruel things you said? Will I forgive yon? Look at me, May, and- read your answer in my eyes. . . . Oh, my little love! rny little love!”

CHAPTER, IT —GWLADYS PENRTIYN’S HERO. Great was the amazement of Captain Trevor Hamilton, tho dashing young cavalry officer, when ho learnt, as he did by the merest accident, that he had been left sole legatee to the wealth of an uncle whom lie had not, seen since he left liuli.v as a boy, fifteen years before. It was a brother officer who broke the news to him.

“Soon ‘The Times?”' he inquired briskly, entering a- service club in Piccadilly, anil .seating himself astride a chair opposite to his friend.

“I never .see ‘The Times,’ ” the latter responded, puffing lazily at his cigar; “funds don’t run to it.” “Funds will soon he racing to it. Look here!”

Lieutenant Drew opened the advertisement sheet, and pointed to a paragraph in the second column. ‘'This,” he said impressively, "has been in here a week, and the Lord only knows in how many other papers it has appeared.” “Well?” said the other blankly. “Well, you’re wanted, Trevor!” “The deuce I am. Who wants me?” “Let me see—lawyers m the city, as a beginning.” "Rot!”

"Oh, all right. Hand me over yom credentials, certificates of birth, baptism, and such like, and I’ll start the personating dodge. There’s money in this; and I’m quite ready to run the show, having nothing to lose if I fail. You don’t know,” added the young lieutenant gloomily, “what it is to be ‘stonyhroke’ or you’d jump at such a chance of confounding your creditors.”

“Mow, what on earth arc you talking about?” drawled the captain. There was no smarter officer in Her Majesty’s .service than Captain Trevor Hamilton, but when not .on military duty he affected a langour and an unconcern which was a little trying to his friend, whoso temperament was of the mercurial order.

"Wanted,” ho began, with twinkling eyes, “the present address, or information regarding Trevor Hamilton, orphan, born in British Burmali soraewhere-about the year 1860; father in Madras Civil Service; mother, Trevor 1 , of Trevor, country Cavan, Ireland ; educated Royal Military Academy, Woolwich. This,” observed the lieutenant gravely, “refers presumably to aforesaid Trevor, not to bis mother, though the deduction to' be drawn ”

“I’ll throw a cushion at your head directly. "Go ahead. I should welcome it as a sign of returning animation. Obtained commission in Royal Engineers, afterwards joined the——”

"As if,” broke in the captain, now fairly reused, “anyone wanting me would not have applied direct to the War Office. ’’ “You’re too clever, old man. This,” tapping the advertisement, "has been wired from some remote region in remote Southern India, and probably—but here, road the thing for yourself It will make you sib up, I can toll yon.” It did make him sit tip. and never afterwards did Trevor Hamilton neglect to read the newspapers. Nor, though years elapsed before he was in a posi fion to let. his gratitude take practical shape, did he forget the friend who first (old him of his good fortune. Lieutenant Drew had certainly good cause to remember the day he entered the Piccadilly club with the ‘Times’ newspaper in his hand : and he would declare, with an odd break in his voice, that Trevor Hamilton was not onlv the best-looking, the best bred, and the bravest officer in the regiment, but also tbe most loyal and helpful and generous of friends. He was always doing a- kindness to some poor absent-minded beggar.. Captain Hamilton had, of course, no difficulty in proving his identity; but after the first formalities had been gone through, and he had been congratulated on his snug little fortune, there was a somewhat awkward nause.

The lawyer fidgeted with his papers, and finally announced that there was a condition attached to his late client’s will. . l ; . ' When, half an hour liter 1 , Trevor Hamilton left King’s Poach Walk, there was an expression of dismay on his fare, and he gave vent to a prolonged whistle. The legacy, it

seemed, carried with it a wife. The condition upon which alone ho could inherit property amounting to upwards of £BO,OOO was that he should marry a certain Marygold Hamilton, whose father was a distant connection of the testator’s.

Tho eccentric old Anglo-Indian, wishing to benefit both his nephew and the little godchild of whom he was exceedingly fond, conceived the novel idea of marrying the pair. The simple expedient of dividing the money between them had apparently not occurred to him.

Was over man placed in so awkward and embarrassing a position? The wife his uncle had chosen for him was still a mere schoolgirl, years must elapse before she could bo considered of a marriageable age. and in the meantime fifty things might occur to upset the arrangement.

Miss Hamilton, when she was old enough to give the subject her attention, might fall in love. Every facility was offered in India so to do; and if she happened to be a pretty girl she would he nipped up directly. On the other hand, even supposing her affections remained disengaged, she might object to bo married offhand to a man sho didn’t know, and who must bo at least twelve years her senior, merely for the purpose of endowing him with £BO,DOO. Tt was a legitimate objection, and one with which ho could sympathise. For himself he was devoted to his profession, and a wife had not yet entered into his scheme of life. Still there was the money. No one could live without money. They might dispense with love, hut money was essential ; and if Marygold was as poor as he. the money would naturally weigh with her. It was an important factor in every situation. Well, the first step was. as tho lawyer suggested, to put himself in communication with the family. This ho did without loss of time ; and as, combined with innate tact and refinement of a gentleman, the task was perhaps less difficult to him than it would have been to another. He directed his letter to M iss Marygold Hamilton at the address near Delhi furnished him by the lawyer.

Then ho waited—two, three, four ireiths—before the lookecl-for reply from India arrived. It was written in a clear, girlish hand, and signed ‘'May Hamilton.” “She knew,” so the letter ran, “all about her godfather’s will. He had always been very good to her, and she had .promised him that when she was old enough she would marry his nephew. Her godfather had told her that she could make Trevor Hamilton a rich man by becoming his wife, and of course she would be very glad to do that. She liked soldiers, because her father was one; and her brother, when he grow up, would bo a soldier, too. Sho was sorry sho was so young, but if he (Trevor) wanted tho money very badly, she would lend him five pounds. She had a money box of her own.”

Tho soldier smiled sadly as he folded up the letter and placed it in his breast pocket. “Poor cfiikl! Poor little, ten-der-hearted May!” he murmured, and his eyes grew very gentle and pitiful as ho gazed at the photograph she had enclosed. It represented a girl with a small, pale, flower-like face, framed in masses of curling brown hair; a wistful mouth, and wonderful dark eyes. It was a face that in its purity and earnestness would appeal to any man; auu Trevor Hamilton, as he touched it reverently with his lips, mentally registered a vow that if, in the years to come, that pretty child should trust horsea to him. he would make her life as happy and full of joy as it was possible for tho life of a soldier’s wife to be.

And thus began a correspondence which was continued without interruption for many years, and between the little schoolgirl in India and tho young soldier at Aldershot there grew np a warm and lasting friendship. But before the Hamiltons came to settle in England war had broken out in South Africa, and Captain-Hamilton's regiment was one of the first to bo dispatched to Capetown. '

CHAPTER HI.—LOVE WILL FIND A WAY.

“I’m going to shoot o, Boer,” said the hoy, and he looked quite fierce as he took careful aim at a pair of tongs, which, with topcoat and trousers on, were propped up precariously against the fender. "Look out. May!” May looked out. She sank into an easy chair as far removed as possible from the base of operations, and put heir hands over her ears.

.There was a loud report, a sudden hang, a tremendous clatter, and an exultant shout. “I’ve done for him!” cried Rolfe, junior, lowering his weapon, and regarding his prostrate foe complacently. "Send for the ambulance, May, and have the body removed.” But this order was never carried out, for the boy was seized from behind and swung round, while a masculine voice—a voice that brought a swift colour into May’s cheeks and a glad light in her eyes—exclaimed—- " You bloodthirsty young Britisher! What are you doing?” ■

"Now then, I say, Rolfe senior, let me go. I’m shooting Boers. How did yon get in?” “Through the door, of course. • Did you think I came down the chimney? May, my darling,” He was on his knees before her, his arms round her waist, his lips close to hers. Rolfe, junior, promptly levelled his revolver at them.

“If you kiss May,” he said firmly, “I shall fire.”

'Tiro away,” his cousin responded with a laugh—the boy’s jealousy always amused him—“but you will only be wasting powder and shot, for I shall kiss May all the same. What’s that you say? She’s your sister, not mine. lam delighted to hear you say so. I would net”—smiling into the girl’s troubled eyes—“have May for a sister on any account; not for anything you could'give mo. Rolfe junior.’’ “Oh, all right, then,* he rejoined affably; but why can’t you sit on a chair? That’s such a very uncomfortable posifcicn.” "Is it May?”

But May glanced over his shoulder to where her little brother stood, sns picion lurking in his small, expressive face. “Rolfe, dear,” she said, "run and tell mother who is hero, and then ask Sarah to toast some cakes for tea.” You can help her if you like.” “Well, hut if 1 go you will make Rolfe senior get up. He’s smothering you, and”—in a tone of deep disgust, he’s wearing out the knees of his trousers.”

The lovers looked at on© another, and then suddenly and simultaneously they broke into n erry peals of laughter. “You young tyrant 1 Be off with you” cried Mr Penrhyn at last, rising for the purpose of expediting the boy’s departure. But Rolfe junior hud not studied war tactics for nothing; and he deemed this a fitting occasion for practising Boer “slimness.” His voice was heard Uttering vague threats against Britons and Boers alike, as the drawing room door was shut and locked behind him.

"Oh, Rolfe, what has happened?” May asked. 'T thought you were to sail hist night.” “So I was, but - the Montrose has

met with an accident. She collided with the river wall in changing docks; damaged her stern; injured her plates; it wilt take at least ten days to do the necessary repairs. Much may happen in ten days, May.” “What do you mean?” He whispered something in her oar. “Oh, no,* Kolfe, no!” sho cried, flushing and trying to escape from his encircling arms. “I can’t—you know I can’t.”

“1 know nothing of the sort. Now, listen to mo. May, You believe yourself bound by a promise made without veur parent’s consent when you were a more child; and I say you arc not hound. No one with an ounce of cone mou sense would dream of holding you to such a promise. It is an insult to Captain Hamilton to suppose that he, when ho knows the truth What’s that you say? He need never know. My innocent darling, do you think a man worth his salt would not soon find it out?” “Ho is poor, Kolfe; and he can only get this money by marrying me.” “By marrying Marygold Hamilton. Just so. But suppose that when Captain Hamilton returns from South Africa—as God grant he may —there is no Marygold—— Now don’t interrupt me. Suppose the condition on which alone ho can inherit, breaks down* —-what then? To whom does tho money revert ?”

“The noxh-of-kin, I suppose.” “Exactly. And who are the next-of-kin.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Captain Hamilton’s relations, I should think.” “Captain Hamilton has no relations, as I have taken pains to ascertain. You yourself are his nearest connection ; and failing your father, who was next-of-kin, the money goes to his eldest child. To you. May.” “I couldn’t take it, she gasped.

“You couldn’t keep it, you moan; hut you will take it, and on tho day "-on become Airs Penrhyn you will transfer the whole by deed of gift to Captain —or, rathe-, Major Hamilton; his promotion, which lie richly deserves, was gazetted last night. Poor Major Hamilton, he little dreams that ho has escaped from the Boers only bo fall into the hands of a designing and unscrupulous woman. Gwladys has marked him as her own; and she intends to nurse him back to health and strength at the Manor.” But May was a little bewildered by the rapidity with which events were marching. “I’m not sure.” she said, half-auda-cious, half afraid, “that I don't want to marry Major Hamilton myself!” “Then perhaps this,” ho rejoined triumphantly, producing from his pocket a special license, “will enable yon to arrive at a decision.” May stared at it with lovely, startled eyes ; and just then there came a_ Jong knocking at the door, and the voice of Kolfe junior raised in indignant protest.

“May! May!” ho shouted. “Let me in. Tea’s ready, and the cakes arc getting cold.”

CHAPTER IV.—SEE THE CONQUERING HEttO COMES.

When General Buller at length entered Ladysmith he found tho hospitals full, and almost the first man to bo carried out and placed in Princess Christian’s ambulance train for conveyance south was Major Hamilton. He was suffering from enteric, and had besides been badly wounded in the right shoulder. A mere wreck, ho l.ookcd, the handsome gallant soldier who had left England barely five months before.

Of tlio triumphant, entry of our troops into the beleaguered town, and of the scenes of wild enthusiasm which took place; on that never-to-be-forgotten day in February, he had no-recollection, being in the grip of the fever which found so ■ many victims. On arriving, at Durban lie was transferred to the hospital ship Maim;, and sailed with other invalided officers for Southampton. And this was how it happened that a largo concourse of people assembled on the Liverpool Landing Stag© to greet the Norseman on her arrival in, the Mersey, and welcome some of the brave defenders of Ladysmith, were l defrauded of their hero-worship-Gwladys Penrhyn, who with Mrs Penrhyn and" little Rolfe, had oome to town to meet th© steamer, on hearing that there were no officers from South Africa on board; threw up her small head and declared vehemently that the Dominion liner had no business to leave Durban before Major Hamilton had arrived there. It was iniquitous. Mrs Penrhyn laughed at her sister-in-law’s suggestion that they should at cncs proceed to London to meet the Maine; but she - telegraphed to Major Hamilton, and also forwarded the letter which Rolfe had written before he sailed. and letter and telegram were duly delivered to the Major on the arrival of the Maine a week later.

The telegram contained only a dozen words : "If able, come straight to Liverpool. Wire train. Will meet you.— May.”

The letter was a warm invitation from Rolfe Penrhyn, begging Major Hamilton to make the Manor his home so long as he remained in England. He (Rolfe) was on the eve of sailing for South Africa, but his wife and sister would, do their best to make Major Hamilton’s stay a pleasant one, and the pure air and bracing atmosphere of the Wirral Peninsula would, he was sure, do wonders for the invalid. And Major Hamilton, not understanding in the least what it all' meant, but feeling in his weakness and loneliness the need of just such a homo as was here offered, end recognising the real kindness and 1 generosity of the invitation, accepted it gladly and gratefully, and wired by what train he might be expected. •** . * •

A beautiful little pony carriage—the pcnics wearing rosettes and streamers of red, white and blue, and their harness glittering like silver in the April sunshine—stood waiting outside the picturesque station at Thurstaston as the Birkenhead train slowed in; and a disfcractingly pretty girl, also wearing the national colours, who sat with the rc-ius held loosely in. her small brown hands, craned her neck to catch the first glimpse of alighting passengers.’ “I see him,” she exclaimed presently in a rapturous undertone. “Oh, auntia, I see him.”

"My dear,” expostulated the sweetfaced lady addressed, '‘you can’t possibly recognise Major Hamilton at this distance.” •

“I can. Roberts is helping him out of the carriage. Now they are coming. Oh, how ill he looks! My hero! My hero!” she added, in the softest, sweetest of whispers. Then her eyes darkened and dilated, and her face broke into an ecstasy of light and colour as a tall, gaunt man. in undress uniform emerged on to the *open space before the station entrance. Mrs Hamilton got ont of the carriage, and introducing herself as “May’s mother,” warmly greeted the traveller who, exhausted after his long journey, could only express his thanks in short, broken sentences. And, even as he did so, his eyes wandered to the pretty figure ait-

ting so still and upright in the carriage. *

“Are you—May?” he asked, advancing a step and taking the girl’s outstretched hands—and as their eyes met something surely of her gladness of heart must have communicated itself to him, for a smile, sweet as it was rare, flickered for a moment over his thin, haggard face.

“No,” she answered, smiling back at him. “I am Gwladys—May’s cousin. There is a likeness, isn’t there, auntie? Now get in, both of you; Roberts will see to the luggage. Where is the_claret? .Major Hamilton must have that and a sandwich immediately. Oh, yes, you must. And tuck That rug more closely round him, Roberts. Wo are not in South Africa, you know.”

In this way did Gwladys Penrhyn taka possession of her hero, and he never disputed her right ao to do. Through sheer weakness at first, afterwards through some sweeter and stronger feeling, he allowed himself to be petted and tyrannised over, and teased and adored. And it came to this—that Major Trevor Hamilton, of the 13th Hussars, vigilant soldier and famous scout though he was, walked straightway into the ambush a loving woman’s hands had prepared for him.