“Yes, I must; my leave was only till four o'clock, as the Field-Marshal's note might have shown you; but I believe you threw it into the fire before you finished it.”
“Did I, really? I remember nothing of that. But, stay, and I will write to him. I 'll say that I have detained you.”
“But the service, Kate dearest! My sergeant—my over-lieutenant—my captain—what will they say? I may have to pass three days in irons for the disobedience.”
“Modern chivalry has a dash of the treadmill through it,” said D'Esmonde, sarcastically; and the boy's cheek flushed as he heard it. The priest, however, had already turned away, and, walking into the recess of a window, left the brother and sister free to talk unmolested.
“I scarcely like him, Kate,” whispered Frank.
“You scarcely know him yet,” she said, with a smile. “But when can you come again to me,—to-morrow^ early?”
“I fear not We have a parade and a field-inspection, and then 'rapport' at noon.”
“Leave it to me, then, dear Frank,” said she, kissing him; “I must try if I cannot succeed with the 'Field' better than you have done.”
“There's the recall-bugle,” cried the boy, in terror; and, snatching up his cap, he bounded from the room at once.
“A severe service,—at least, one of rigid discipline,” said D'Esmonde, with a compassionating expression of voice. “It is hard to say whether it works for good or evil, repressing the development of every generous impulse, as certainly as it restrains the impetuous passions of youth.”