hospital at Colesberg. Had he
recovered after the Boers had taken Colesberg? As a rumour had
reached her that he had, and had even returned to England. She
wanted to know, and if they ever met again would tell him why.
Meanwhile if he got any news would he address it to _her_, care of
Honoria Fraser, Queen Anne's Mansions, St. James's Park; as her own
address would be quite uncertain for the present. Or it would do
quite as well if he wrote to Praddy; but _not_ to his father, which
might only needlessly agitate the old clergyman down in Wales, whom
Vivie by an unexpected chance had come to know.

The first result of this letter a year later was a statement of
Frank's belief, almost certainty, that his acquaintance of the
hospital _had_ died and been buried while the Boers held possession
of Colesberg; and that indeed was the utmost that was ever learnt
about the end of the ill-fated son of Howel Vaughan Williams and
Mary his wife, who were wedded in sunshine and with fair prospects
of happiness in the early summer of 1874.

The new-born David Vavasour Williams having by November settled all
these details, having arranged to pay the very modest rent of
fifty-five pounds for his three rooms at Fig Tree Court, and
twenty-five pounds a year to the housekeeper who was to "do" for him
and another gentleman on the same floor--a gentleman who was most
anxious to be chummy with the new tenant of the opposite chambers
but whose advances were firmly though civilly kept at bay--having
likewise passed his preliminary examination (since he could not avow
that inside his clothes he was a third wrangler), having satisfied
his two "godfathers" of the Bar that he was a fit person to
recommend to the Benchers; having arranged to read with a barrister
in chambers, and settled all other preliminaries of importance:
decided that he would pay an afternoon call on the Rossiters in
Portland Place and see how the land lay there.

Already a strange exhilaration was spreading over David's mind. Life
was not twice but ten times more interesting than it had appeared to
the prejudiced eyes of Vivien Warren. It was as though she--he--had
passed through some magic door, gone through the looking-glass and
was contemplating the same world as the one Vivie had known
for--shall we say fifteen?--years, but a world which viewed from a
different standpoint was quite changed in proportions, in colour, in
the conjunction of events. It was a world in which e