t of
unwonted courage and originality; for he was beginning to like, and he
had always from the first respected, Bertram. "There's something about
the man that makes me feel--even when I differ from him most--that he
believes it all, and is thoroughly in earnest. I dare say I'm wrong, but
I always have a notion he's a better man than me, in spite of all his
nonsense,--higher and clearer and differently constituted,--and that if
only I could climb to just where he has got, perhaps I should see things
in the same light that he does."

It was a wonderful speech for Philip--a speech above himself; but, all
the same, by a fetch of inspiration he actually made it. Intercourse
with Bertram had profoundly impressed his feeble nature. But the Dean
shook his head.

"A very undesirable young man for you to see too much of, I'm sure,
Mr. Christy," he said, with marked disapprobation. For, in the Dean's
opinion, it was a most dangerous thing for a man to think, especially
when he's young; thinking is, of course, so likely to unsettle him!

The General, on the other hand, nodded his stern grey head once or twice
reflectively.

"He's a remarkable young fellow," he said, after a pause; "a most
remarkable young fellow. As I said before, he somehow fascinates me.
I'd immensely like to put that young fellow into a smart hussar
uniform, mount him on a good charger of the Punjaub breed, and send him
helter-skelter, pull-devil, pull-baker, among my old friends the Duranis
on the North-West frontier."

VIII

While the men talked thus, Bertram Ingledew's ears ought to have burned
behind the bushes. But, to say the truth, he cared little for their
conversation; for had he not turned aside down one of the retired gravel
paths in the garden, alone with Frida?

"That's General Claviger of Herat, I suppose," he said in a low tone,
as they retreated out of ear-shot beside the clump of syringas. "What
a stern old man he is, to be sure, with what a stern old face! He looks
like a person capable of doing or ordering all the strange things I've
read of him in the papers."

"Oh, yes," Frida answered, misunderstanding for the moment her
companion's meaning. "He's a very clever man, I believe, and a most
distinguished officer."

Bertram smiled in spite of himself. "Oh, I didn't mean that," he cried,
with the same odd gleam in his eyes Frida had so often noticed there.
"I meant, he looked capable of doing or ordering all the horrible cri