ield had gone away some time--so had Mervyn--Sturk and his wife
went next, and Cluffe and Puddock, who lingered as long as was decent,
at last took leave. The plump lieutenant went away very happy,
notwithstanding the two or three little rubs he had met with, and a good
deal more in love than ever. And he and his companion were both
thoughtful, and the walk home was quite silent, though very pleasant.

Cluffe was giving shape mentally to his designs upon Miss Rebecca's
L20,000 and savings. He knew she had had high offers in her young days
and refused; but those were past and gone--and gray hairs bring
wisdom--and women grow more practicable as the time for action
dwindles--and she was just the woman to take a fancy--and 'once the
maggot bit,' to go any honest length to make it fact. And Cluffe knew
that he had the field to himself, and that he was a well-made, handsome,
agreeable officer--not so young as to make the thing absurd, yet young
enough to inspire the right sort of feeling. To be sure, there were a
few things to be weighed. She was, perhaps--well, she _was_ eccentric.
She had troublesome pets and pastimes--he knew them all--was well
stricken in years, and had a will of her own--that was all. But, then,
on the other side was the money--a great and agreeable arithmetical fact
not to be shaken--and she could be well-bred when she liked, and a
self-possessed, dignified lady, who could sail about a room, and
courtesy, and manage her fan, and lead the conversation, and do the
honours, as Mrs. Cluffe, with a certain air of _haut ton_, and in an
imposing way, to Cluffe's entire content, who liked the idea of
overawing his peers.

And the two warriors, side by side, marched over the bridge, in the
starlight, and both by common consent, halted silently, and wheeled up
to the battlement; and Puddock puffed a complacent little sigh up the
river toward Belmont; and Cluffe was a good deal interested in the
subject of his contemplation, and in fact, the more he thought of it,
the better he liked it.

And they stood, each in his reverie, looking over the battlement toward
Belmont, and hearing the hushed roll of the river, and seeing nothing
but the deep blue, and the stars, and the black outline of the trees
that overhung the bridge, until the enamoured Cluffe, who liked his
comforts, and knew what gout was, felt the chill air, and remembered
suddenly that they had stopped, and ought to be in motion toward their
beds, and