a
private soldier when the drill-sergeant cries "ATTENTION!"

"Did you hear that, sir?" said he.

"I did," said Walter: "cheeky little beggar. But you know, father, you
were rather hard upon him before his sweetheart, and a little pot is
soon hot."

"There was nothing to be hot about," said the Colonel, naively; "but that
is neither here nor there. You are ten times worse than he is. He is only
a prating, pedantic puppy, but you are a muff, sir, a most unmitigated
muff, to stand there mum-chance and let such an article as that carry off
the prize."

"Oh, father," said Walter, "why will you not see that the prize is a
living woman, a woman with a will of her own, and not a French eagle, or
the figure-head of a ship? Now do listen to reason."

"Not a word," said the Colonel, marching off.

"But excuse me," said Walter, "I have another thing far more important to
speak to you about: this unhappy lawsuit."

"That's no business of yours, and I don't want your opinion of it;
there is no more fight in you than there is in a hen-sparrow. I decline
your company and your pacific twaddle; I have no patience with a muff;"
and the Colonel marched off, leaving his son planted there, as the
French say.

Walter, however, was not long alone; the interview had been watched
from a distance by Mary. She now stole noiselessly on the scene, and
laid her white hand upon her husband's shoulder before he was aware of
her. The sight of her was heaven to him, but her first question clouded
his happy face.

"Well, dear, have you propitiated him?"

Walter hung his head sorrowfully, and said hardly anything.

"He has been blustering at me all the time, and insists upon my
cutting out Percy whether I can or not, and marrying Julia whether she
chooses or not."

"Then we must do what I said. Indeed there is no other course. We must
own the truth; concealment and deceit will not mend our folly."

"Oh, hang it, Mary, don't call it folly."

"Forgive me, dear, but it was the height of folly. Not that I mean to
throw the blame on you--that would be ungenerous; but the truth is you
had no business to marry me, and I had no business to marry you. Only
think--me--Mary Bartley--a clandestine marriage, and then our going to
the lakes again, and spending our honey-moon together just like other
couples--the recklessness--the audacity! Oh, what happiness it was!"

Walter very naturally pounced upon this unguarded and naive conclusion of
Mary's