Many officers and men had been killed and wounded; among the latter were Sir Robert Sale, who received a ball in his left leg, and Lieutenant O'Brien, of the 13th, whose skull was fractured by a shot as he attempted to storm the rocks at the head of his company. Such was the story of that protracted fight as it reached Cabul, and reference to it now shed somewhat of gravity over even the lively Rose Trecarrel; for among the officers of the two regiments attacked—especially of the dashing 13th, Prince Albert's Own Light Infantry—many were known to her, and had deemed her the chief attraction of the band-stand and the daily promenade.
But regrets were short, for something of the off-hand recklessness to danger and even death, incident to military society in such a place as Cabul, pervaded even the tenor of female life there; and the subject was soon dismissed.
"A mounted tchopper accompanied Mr. Audley," said Mabel to Denzil, whose saddened face interested her; "and so we have had quite a bale of newspapers from England."
"A bale?" repeated Denzil, mechanically, his eyes seeking those of Rose.
"Yes, positively. Three months' newspapers at least, though not one letter; and thus the obituaries and marriages in the Times become so perplexing to us here."
"I brought some letters for the army up with me from Bombay," said Audley Trevelyan, "and among them, Devereaux, I observed one for you—the name had, somehow, an attraction for me."
"From home!" exclaimed Denzil, starting, for only those who are so far from Europe as he was then can know how much is concentrated in that single word, "home."
"I trust so."
"Then I must go to my quarters at once."
"Nay, Devereaux," said Waller, "moderate your impatience, if the letter is from some fair one——"