"You belong, you state, to the Greys?"
"Yes."
"Do you know a soldier named Gauntlet—Basil Gauntlet?"
It was now my turn to feel confusion and extreme surprise.
"Yes; but how has he the honour, the happiness to be known to you?" I inquired, with growing astonishment, while gazing into her clear, bright eyes.
"I have an interest—have we not both an interest in him, mamma?" said she, with confusion.
"You—in a poor unfriended trooper?" I exclaimed.
"He is from our neighbourhood—that is all," replied the young lady, with a hesitating manner.
I scanned her face in vain; its soft expression and lovely features, her hair of golden-brown, her eyes of dark blue-grey—eyes full of faith, of truth and merriment withal, were quite unknown to me, and my heart beat quicker while my bewilderment increased, as she said—
"We have heard that this ill-starred lad has become wild, rakish, bad, incorrigible and ugly."