ay seem vague as the statement of a position,
but Laura found it immensely fortifying. That and similar arguments
built her up in her determination to take up what Colonel Markin called
her life-work again at the earliest opportunity. She had forfeited her
rank, that she accepted humbly as a proper punishment, ardently hoping
it would be found sufficient. She would go back as a private, take her
place in the ranks, and nothing in her married life should interfere
with the things that cried out to be done in Bentinck street. Somehow
she had less hope of securing Lindsay as a spiritual companion in arms
since she had confided the affair to Colonel Markin. As he said, they
must hope for the best, but he could not help admitting that he took a
gloomy view of Lindsay.

"Once he has secured you," the Colonel said, with an appreciative glance
at Laura's complexion, "what will he care about his soul? Nothing."

Their enthusiasm had ample opportunity to expand, their mutual bond to
strengthen, in the close confines of life on board ship, and as if to
seal it and sanctify it permanently, a conversion took place in the
second saloon, owning Laura's agency. It was the maid of the lady in the
cavalry regiment, a hardened heart, as two stewards and a bandmaster on
board could testify. When this occurred, the time that was to elapse
between Laura's marriage and her return to the ranks was shortened to
one week. "And quite long enough," Colonel Markin said, "considering how
much more we need you than your gentleman does, my dear sister."

It was plain to them all that Colonel Markin had very special views
about his dear sister. The other dear sisters looked on with pleasurable
interest, admitting the propriety of it, as Colonel Markin walked up and
down the deck with Laura, examining her lovely nature, "drawing her out"
on the subject of her faith and her assurance. It was natural, as he
told her, that in her peculiar situation she should have doubts and
difficulties. He urged her to lay bare her heart, and she laid it bare.
One evening--it was heavenly moonlight on the Indian Ocean, and they
were two days past Aden, on the long southeast run to Ceylon--she came
and stood before him with a small packet in her hand. She was all in
white, and more like an angel than Markin expected ever to see anything
in this world, though as to the next his anticipations may have been
extravagant.

"Now I wonder," said he, "where you are going to si