cast a spell upon her at each visit, so that she
should return to me; and this was a matter of nice management. I had
done it the last time--it seemed impossible she should not come again
after our interview; and for the next I had speedily ripened a fresh
plan. A prisoner, if he has one great disability for a lover, has yet
one considerable advantage: there is nothing to distract him, and he can
spend all his hours ripening his love and preparing its manifestations.
I had been then some days upon a piece of carving--no less than the
emblem of Scotland, the Lion Rampant. This I proceeded to finish with
what skill I was possessed of; and when at last I could do no more to it
(and, you may be sure, was already regretting I had done so much), added
on the base the following dedication:

A LA BELLE FLORA

LE PRISONNIER RECONNAISSANT

A. D. ST. Y. D. K.

I put my heart into the carving of these letters. What was done with so
much ardour, it seemed scarce possible that any should behold with
indifference; and the initials would at least suggest to her my noble
birth. I thought it better to suggest: I felt that mystery was my
stock-in-trade; the contrast between my rank and manners, between my
speech and my clothing, and the fact that she could only think of me by
a combination of letters, must all tend to increase her interest and
engage her heart.

This done, there was nothing left for me but to wait and to hope. And
there is nothing further from my character: in love and in war, I am
all for the forward movement; and these days of waiting made my
purgatory. It is a fact that I loved her a great deal better at the end
of them, for love comes, like bread, from a perpetual rehandling. And
besides, I was fallen into a panic of fear. How, if she came no more,
how was I to continue to endure my empty days? how was I to fall back
and find my interest in the major's lessons, the lieutenant's chess, in
a twopenny sale in the market, or a halfpenny addition to the prison
fare?

Days went by, and weeks; I had not the courage to calculate, and to-day
I have not the courage to remember; but at last she was there. At last I
saw her approach me in the company of a boy about her own age, and whom
I divined at once to be her brother.

I rose and bowed in silence.

"This is my brother, Mr. Ronald Gilchrist," said she. "I have told him
of your sufferings. He is so sorry for you!"

"It is more than I have the right