scalade. Occasionally too, while
Mrs. Shortridge prudently, or indolently, kept the more level ground
he would contrive to lead Lady Mabel to some elevated and perilous
spot--and she boldly putting herself into difficulties, and not always
seeing the way out of them, had to rely on his aid, and the supporting
arm he delighted to afford her. And they gave to love for botany the
credit of it all.

The zeal with which Colonel L'Isle followed up this new study, did not
escape Colonel Bradshawe's watchful eye. So his satirical tongue had
many a comment to make on the change in L'Isle's habits. To his own
cronies Bradshawe dubbed him the bushman, not as being neighbor to the
Hottentots, but from his often riding into Elvas, equipped like one of
Malcolm's soldiers, marching from Birnam wood to Dunsinane.

"Our would be Achilles, laden with that huge bunch of materials for
Lady Mabel's _hortus siccus_, thinks himself like Hercules with the
distaff. To me he looks like a florist's apprentice, selling his
flowers at a penny a bunch. It must be confessed though that the
fellow has talents and tact. How completely has he contrived to shut
out rivalry, by availing himself of my lady's weakness in imagining
herself a great botanist, and providing her with a zealous and
admiring pupil in his own person. And then to use so adroitly his
accommodating temporary female friend in decoying his lawful love into
the trap. She is certainly the finest girl of her day, and acres are
good things, even though they be Scotch acres; for in the same
proportion they are broader as well as more barren than English acres.
The whole thing is admirable. It is a combination of means to a
combination of ends, evincing genius of high order. Were I at the head
of the war office, I would promote him on the spot."

"Poor Shortridge!" sighed Colonel Bradshawe, dropping at once from a
tone of the highest admiration to one of deep commiseration, "can he
possibly be blind to what is going on? And what is Lord Strathern
dreaming of! What a pity one cannot interfere in these little matters,
and put our friends on their guard! But Shortridge is so obtuse, and
my Lord so self-willed and wrong-headed, that it would only make
matters worse. Indeed, it is too late to help Shortridge, poor fellow!
and we must console ourselves with the wise conclusion of the great
bard:

"He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robbed at a