"You must know, Miss Rivers," said Wilton, with his pleasantest smile, longing all the time to fall upon and thrash desperately his good friend and comrade—"you must know that my friend Moncrief is the gloomy ascetic of the regiment, always available for the skeleton's part at the feast, that is, the mess, a terror to lively subs, and only cheerful when some one in a terrible scrape requires his help to get out of it; but one grows accustomed even to a skeleton. I have been shut up with him for nearly six weeks, and, you see, I have not committed suicide yet; but he is a first-rate old Bones after all!" (slapping the ungenial major on the shoulder).
"Is he really unhappy?" asked Ella, with such genuine wonder and curiosity that the "dour" major yielded to the irresistible influences, and burst into a gracious laugh, in which Wilton joined, and the cloud which Moncrief brought with him was almost dispersed—not quite, for Ella was changed pale, composed, silent, with an evidently unconscious drawing to Wilton's side, that did not help to steady his pulse or cool his brain.
"It is quite clear," said Miss Rivers, anxiously; "may I not return? for in another hour night will close. I must go!"
"Certainly!" cried Wilton, who was feeling dreadfully bored by the flagging conversation and general restraint of Moncrief's presence; "your dress will be dry by this time, and while you put it on I will order the dog-cart. I will drive you over to Brosedale in half an hour, snow or no snow."
"You—drive me—oh, no! I can walk quite well; I am not the least afraid. Do not come out again."
"My dear Miss Rivers! allow you to walk alone? Impossible! Even this stern Bones, this incarnation of inexorable Fate, would not demand such a sacrifice.—Moncrief, ring the bell; summon Mrs. McKollop from the vasty deep to attend our fair guest.—You must know, Miss Rivers, my brother-in-arms is part proprietor of this sylvan lodge."
"Then will he forgive my intrusion," said their guest, with an air so deprecating as to a man of his age, so certainly dignified as to herself, yet so simple withal, that the hidden spring of chivalry far down in the man's nature was struck and pushed to the surface all the more strongly for the depth of the boring.
"You must think me 'a skeleton of the feast,' indeed, as Wilton has been good enough to describe me, if I were not ready to welcome the chance visit of a charming young lady; I am not quite so hopeless an old 'Bones' as you both make out."
"Bravo!" cried Wilton, highly pleased at his change of tone.
"Thank you!" said Miss Rivers, simply; and then the door opened to admit Mrs. McKollop, who wore upon her arm a mass of drapery, and in her hand a very small pair of boots, evidently the garments she had been drying.