The boy ensign—he over whose couch a pale, sad mother hung, watching as he lay asleep and unconscious on the eventful morning of his departure—watching him tearfully and tenderly while he was yet her own—was now a well knit, well set up and weather-beaten looking young fellow. A few months of campaigning had changed the erratic Sandhurst cadet, whose best exploits had been breaking lamps and dismounting the college guns to spite the governor, into a practical soldier; and all that remained in him of the mere lad had nearly given place to the quietly confident air of a man—one who could take his part in society as the leader of others; one who had faced perils and surmounted them by his own unaided energy; for already had Denzil been twice under fire, and had, with a small party, defeated more than one plundering band of the fierce Beloochees.
Ignorant of the calamitous state of matters at home, and of the sorrows of his sister, Denzil, with the natural elasticity of youth, aided by the excitement consequent to military life in the cantonments of Cabul, had recovered the first shock occasioned by his father's loss at sea, and hence on the evening we have met him again, he was in excellent spirits. General Trecarrel had arrived shortly before this, and was now in command of a brigade. His daughters were with him, and proved leading attractions in that little circle of British residents, the European society, military and diplomatic, in and about Cabul, of which Lady Sale and Lady Macnaghten were the recognised heads; and Denzil had been duly introduced to Mabel and Rose by his friend Waller (who had known them in Calcutta), of the result of which introduction we shall have more to say in time to come.
Audley Trevelyan had not yet come up country, as he had been landed on the sick list at Bombay.
The young ladies knew well the story of Constance's alleged marriage, and Denzil's consequent claim to rank; but the tale seemed strange and mysterious, and good taste caused them to be silent, and to keep in the Cantonments and Residency at least what they deemed to be the secret of Denzil, who was an especial favourite with them both; but he never took them into his confidence, though he had taken his friend Waller, one day when they were on guard together at the arsenal and commissariat fort. On that occasion but little passed, and it proved a guide for the future conduct of Denzil.
"You remember our quarrel, Bob?" he asked.
"And the interrupted duel—what griffs we were! Yes—well; what of it?"
"I want your advice, old fellow;" and then he read to Waller certain portions of a letter from Sybil, impressing upon him the necessity for silence on their now unsupported claims.
"Your sister is right, Denzil, and advises you like a sensible girl," said Waller, after a pause, during which he had been thoughtfully filling his pipe with cavendish; "neither here nor at home—here most especially—can you prove anything. The important papers seem to be lost irretrievably; that lawyer fellow, with the name so consonant to his trade, Sharkley, has failed in the matter; so be, as your sister advises, a Devereaux till you can, if ever, announce yourself with strength, a Trevelyan; and have no quarrels—she seems very sensitive about that—with your kinsman on Trecarrell's staff; for meanwhile we may have the Afghans, the Ghilzies, the Kussilbashes, and the devil knows how many more darkies to fight."
Both Waller and Polwhele were unusually good-looking fellows of that peculiar style to be found in the British service, and in no other in Europe. In years they were not more than six or seven-and-twenty; and the former had attained his company after eight years' service in India.
His stature verged on six feet; his features were perfectly regular and aquiline; he had fair hair, which he parted in the middle with an amount of care only equalled by that adopted in curling his long, fair whiskers. He had very white teeth, and merry, roguish blue eyes. He possessed a singular aptitude for making himself essentially useful and agreeable to the married ladies, who consulted him on all manner of things, for Waller excelled in everything, from driving a four-in-hand drag to making a pig out of an orange at supper. He shone in amateur theatricals; wrote verses (not always his own composition) in albums; took charge of the band; got up all the parties and picnics about the station, and even the balls at the Residency, if such they could be called, in a European circle so excessively limited, as that of our garrison at Cabul.