would be used upon the enemy. With
such feelings in her heart it can be imagined that my wooing was not a
difficult one. I should have been glad to marry her at once, but to this
she would not consent. Everything was to come after the war, for it was
necessary, she said, that I should go to Montpellier and meet her people,
so that the French proprieties should be properly observed.

She had one accomplishment which was rare for a lady; she was a skilled
motor-cyclist. She had been fond of long, solitary rides, but after our
engagement I was occasionally allowed to accompany her. She was a woman,
however, of strange moods and fancies, which added in my feelings to the
charm of her character. She could be tenderness itself, and she could be
aloof and even harsh in her manner. More than once she had refused my
company with no reason given, and with a quick, angry flash of her eyes
when I asked for one. Then, perhaps, her mood would change and she would
make up for this unkindness by some exquisite attention which would in an
instant soothe all my ruffled feelings. It was the same in the house. My
military duties were so exacting that it was only in the evenings that I
could hope to see her, and yet very often she remained in the little
study which was used during the day for the children's lessons, and would
tell me plainly that she wished to be alone. Then, when she saw that I
was hurt by her caprice, she would laugh and apologize so sweetly for her
rudeness that I was more her slave than ever.

Mention has been made of my jealous disposition, and it has been asserted
at the trial that there were scenes owing to my jealousy, and that once
Mrs. Murreyfield had to interfere. I admit that I was jealous. When a
man loves with the whole strength of his soul it is impossible, I think,
that he should be clear of jealousy. The girl was of a very independent
spirit. I found that she knew many officers at Chelmsford and
Colchester. She would disappear for hours together upon her motor-cycle.
There were questions about her past life which she would only answer with
a smile unless they were closely pressed. Then the smile would become a
frown. Is it any wonder that I, with my whole nature vibrating with
passionate, whole-hearted love, was often torn by jealousy when I came
upon those closed doors of her life which she was so determined not to
open? Reason came at times and whispered how foolish it was that I
shoul