CHAPTER XXIV.
THE COLONEL AS A CONSOLER.
"I say, Doctor," said Colonel Stanburne to Dr. Bardly, the day before the presentation of colors, "I wish you'd look to Philip Stanburne a little. He doesn't seem to me to be going on satisfactorily at all. I'm afraid that accident at Whittlecup has touched his brain—he's so absent. He commanded his company very fairly a short time back, and he took an interest in drill, but now, upon my word, he gets worse and worse. To-day he made the most absurd mistakes; and one time he marched his company right off, and, by George! I thought he was going to take them straight at the hedge; and I believe he would have done so if the Adjutant hadn't galloped after him. Eureton rowed him so, that it brought him to his senses. I never saw such a youth. He doesn't seem to be properly awake. I'm sure he's ill. He eats nothing. I noticed him at mess last night. He didn't eat enough to keep a baby alive. I don't believe he sleeps properly at nights. His face is quite haggard. One might imagine he'd got something on his conscience. If you can't do him any good, I'll see the Catholic priest, and beg him to set his mind at ease. I'm quite anxious about him, really."
The Doctor smiled. "It's my opinion," he said, "that the young gentleman has a malady that neither you nor I can cure. Some young woman may cure it, but we can't. The lad's fallen in love."
"Why, Doctor, you don't believe that young fellows make themselves ill about such little matters as that, do you? Men are ill in that way in novels, but never in real life. I was desperately spoony myself before I married Helena, and it wasn't Helena I was spoony about either, and the girl jilted me to marry a marquis; and I think she did quite right, for I'd rather she ran away with the marquis before she was my wife than after, you know. But it didn't spoil me a single meal—it didn't make me sleep a wink the less. In fact I felt immensely relieved after an hour or two; for there's nothing like being a bachelor, Doctor—it's so jolly being a bachelor; no man in his senses can be sad and melancholy because he's got to remain a bachelor."
The Doctor heartily agreed with this opinion, but observed that men in love were not men in their senses. "Indeed they're not, Doctor—indeed they're not; but, I say, have you any idea about who the girl is in this business of Philip's? It isn't that pretty Miss Anison, is it?"
Now the Doctor had seen Captain Stanburne coming out of Mr. Stedman's mill one day when he went there to get the manufacturer's present address, and, coupling this incident with his leave of absence, had arrived at a conclusion of his own. But he was not quite sure where young Stanburne had been during his leave of absence.
"Why, he was down in Derbyshire," said the Colonel. "He told me he didn't feel quite well, and wanted a day or two for rest in the country. He said he was going to fish. I don't like giving leaves of absence—we're here only for twenty-eight days; but in his case, you know, after that accident"—
"Oh, he went down to Derbyshire, did he? Then I know for certain who the girl is. It's Alice Stedman. Her father is down there, fishing."