“‘Et puis,’ said I.
“‘Et puis. I could not go to the ball, naughty boy. I am bent on great conquest to-night; so pray don’t mar such good intentions.’
“‘And you should be greatly disappointed were you not to go?’
“‘Of course I should; but what do you mean; is there any reason why I should not? You are silent, John—speak—oh speak—has any thing occurred to my—’
“‘No, no, dearest—nothing that I know has occurred to the Colonel.’
“‘Well then, who is it? Oh tell me at once.’
“‘Oh, my dear, there is no one in the case but ourselves;’ so saying, despite the injunction about the lace, I drew her towards me, and in as few words, but as clearly as I was able, explained all our circumstances—my endeavour to better them—my hopes—my fears—and now my bitter disappointment, if not despair.
“The first shock over, Mary showed not only more courage, but more sound sense than I could have believed. All the frivolity of her former character vanished at the first touch of adversity; just as of old, Harry, we left the tinsel of our gay jackets behind, when active service called upon us for something more sterling. She advised, counselled, and encouraged me by turns; and in half an hour the most poignant regret I had was in not having sooner made her my confidante, and checked the progress of our enormous expenditure somewhat earlier.
“I shall not now detain you much longer. In three weeks we sold our carriages and horses, our pictures, (we had begun this among our other extravagances,) and our china followed; and under the plea of health set out for Baden; not one among our Paris acquaintances ever suspecting the real reason of our departure, and never attributing any monied difficulties to us—for we paid our debts.
“The same day we left Paris, I despatched a letter to my aunt, explaining fully all about us, and suggesting that as I had now left the army for ever, perhaps she would interest some of her friends—and she has powerful ones—to do something for me.