"Yes; debts beyond what we could ever have anticipated, have overtaken my father, and you know that his vicarage here at Craybourne is a poor one, Jack, a very poor one, and his poverty would be the ruin of my two brothers. My marriage will be the saving of them all—the Colonel is so rich."
"Philip Daubeny, of Craybourne Hall?"
"Yes," replied Laura, with averted eyes
"I saw him struck down by the sun on the march between Jehanumbad and Shetanpore; and I would, with all my heart, he were there still!"
"Don't say so, Jack," urged the girl; "Colonel Daubeny is good, and brave, and generous—oh, most generous! God knows, Jack, if you would take me as I am, without a shilling, I would become your wedded wife to-night," added Laura, blinded with tears; "but you want me to wait for you, Jack, and I cannot wait, for the fate of those over there—at home—is in my power," continued Laura, turning towards the old thatched vicarage, the lozenged casements of which were glittering in the sunshine between the stems of the trees.
"To wait, of course," said he, huskily, and relinquishing her hands in a species of sullen despair; "I have but little to live on just yet, since I had to sell out of the Hussars after that infernal loss on the Oaks, and, of course, I cannot supply you with equipages and luxuries as Daubeny can do. But do have patience with me, Laura."
"I cannot—I cannot!" wailed the girl; "the dreadful why I have told you a thousand times."
"You never loved me truly."
"You wrong me; no one has ever been more dear to me than you, Jack."
He laughed bitterly.