Was it the result of my dream?—of that "instinct which, like imagination, is a word everybody uses, and nobody understands?"
Perhaps we shall see.
Suddenly the eye of the fair-haired stranger fell on me. He adjusted his glass, surveyed me leisurely, and, pausing in the act of playfully holding a sprig of mistletoe over Bessie's head, said, in the lisping drawl peculiar to men of his style—
"A soldier, by Jove! Now, my good man—ah, ah!—what do you want here at this time of night?"
"I came to escort my cousin home, sir."
"Your cousin, eh—haw?"
"Bessie Leybourne, sir; but," I added, reddening with vexation and annoyance, "I see she is still busy."
"Cousin, eh? What do you say to this, Bessie?"
Bessie, who started from the steps on which she had been seated, came towards me, also blushing, confused, and letting fall all the contents of her lap as she held out her hands to me, and said—
"Welcome home, dear Bob. A merry Christmas and a happy new year! Captain Raikes, this is my Cousin Bob, who is a soldier like yourself—an artilleryman," she added, with increasing confusion, as if she felt ashamed of my blue jacket among those fine folks; while the captain, after glancing at me coolly again, merely said, "Oh—ah—haw—indeed!" and proceeded to assist his sister in descending the steps, as their labours were done, and the decorations of the church complete; but a heavier cloud came over me now.