"And if you believe in the Koran," said Miss Stedman, "you ought to show it by refusing to drink wine."

"Ah, then, I renounce Mohammed, that I may have the pleasure of drinking wine with you, Miss Stedman!" This was said with perfect grace, and in the little ceremony which followed, the young gentleman contrived to express so much respect and admiration for his fair neighbor, that Mrs.

Anison took note of it. "Mr. Stanburne is in love with Alice," she said to herself.

"Would you renounce your religion for love?" asked Madge Anison, in a low tone.

Philip felt a sudden sensation, as if a doctor had just probed him.

Garibaldi felt the corresponding physical pain when Nelaton found the bullet.

He turned slowly and looked at Madge. There was a strange expression about her lips, and the perennial merriment had faded from her face.

"Are you speaking seriously, Miss Anison, I wonder?"

The talk was noisy enough all round the table to isolate the two completely. Even Miss Stedman was listening to her loud-voiced neighbor, the Lieutenant. Madge Anison looked straight at Philip, and said, "Yes, I _am_ speaking seriously."

"I believe I should not, now. But n.o.body knows what he may do when he is in love."

"You _are_ in love."

This time the room whirled, and the voices sounded like the murmur of a distant sea. In an instant Philip Stanburne pa.s.sed from one state of life to another state of life. A crisis, which changed the whole future of four persons there present, occurred in the world of his consciousness. His imagination rioted in wild day-dreams; but one picture rose before him with irresistible vividness--a picture of Alice kneeling with him under a canopy, before the high altar at St. Agatha's.

A slight pressure on his left arm recalled him to the actual world. The ladies were all leaving their seats, and Madge had kindly reminded him where he was.

"A sad place for drinking is Shayton," observed Mr. Blunting, as he poured himself a gla.s.s of pure water. "I wonder if one could do any good there?"

"They're past curing, mostly, are Shayton folk," answered John Stedman.

"Are not they, Mr. Ogden?"

"There's one here that is, I'm afraid," answered Isaac, with much humility.

Mr. Blunting inquired, with sympathy in his tone, whether Mr. Ogden had himself fallen under temptation. When Isaac confessed his backslidings of the past week, the reverend gentleman requested permission to see him in private. Isaac had a dislike to clergymen in general, and in matters of religion rather shared the lat.i.tudinarian views of his friend Dr.

Bardly; but he was in a state of profound moral discouragement, and ready to be grateful to any one who held out prospects of effectual help. So it ended by his accepting an invitation to take tea at the parsonage at Sootythorn.

"If you take tea with Mr. Blunting," said Joseph Anison, "you must mind he doesn't inoculate you with his own sort of intemperance, if he cures you of your little excesses. He drinks tea enough in a year to float a ca.n.a.l-boat. It's a terribly bad habit. In my opinion it's far worse than drinking brandy. The worst of it is that it makes men like gossip just as women do. Stick to your brandy-bottle, Mr. Ogden, like a man, and let Mr. Blunting empty his big tea-pot!"

CHAPTER XIX.

THE COLONEL AT WHITTLECUP.

Whilst the gentlemen were still in the dining-room, Mr. Blunting saw a horse pa.s.s the window--a riderless, yet harnessed horse--followed by another horse in an unaccustomed manner; and then came a lofty vehicle, drawn by the latter animal. I have described this equipage as it appeared to Mr. Blunting; but the experienced reader will perceive that it was a tandem, and by the a.s.sociation of ideas will expect to see Fyser and the Colonel.

Colonel Stanburne came into the dining-room, and soon made himself at home there. He had never happened to meet Joseph Anison or Mr. Stedman, but he knew the inc.u.mbent of Sootythorn slightly, and the other two men were his own officers, though he had as yet seen very little of either of them. The Stanburnes of Wenderholme held a position in all that part of the country so far above that to which their mere wealth would have ent.i.tled them (for there were manufacturers far richer than the Colonel), that Joseph Anison felt it an honor that the head of that family should have entered his gates. "He's only calling on young Stanburne," thought Joseph Anison; "he isn't calling upon us."

"I came to thank you and Mrs. Anison," said the Colonel, "for having so kindly taken care of our young friend here. He seems to be getting on uncommonly well; and no wonder, when he's in such good quarters."

"Captain Stanburne is gaining strength, I am glad to say," replied the master of the house. "He rather alarmed us when he came here, he seemed so weak; but he has come round wonderfully."

"I am very much better, certainly," said the patient himself.

The commanding officer hoped he would be fit for duty again at an early date, but Captain Stanburne declared that he did not feel strong enough yet to be equal to the march and the drill; that he was subject to frequent sensations of giddiness, which would make him most uncomfortable, if not useless, on the parade-ground; and that, in a word, he was best for the present where he was. This declaration was accompanied by due expressions of regret for the way in which he abused the kind hospitality of the Anisons--expressions which, of course, drew forth from the good host a cordial renewal of his lease.

"And what have you done with the Irishman who nearly killed him?" asked Mr. Anison of the Colonel. "I've heard nothing about him. If you'd had him shot, we should have heard of it."

"It was a perplexing case. If you consider the man a soldier, the punishment is most severe--in fact it is death, even if he did not mean to kill. But we hardly could consider him a soldier--he had had no military experience--a raw Irish laborer, who had never worn a uniform.

I have been unwilling to bring the man before a court-martial. He is in prison still."

"He has been punished enough," said Philip. "Pray consider him simply as having been drunk. Irishmen are always combative when they are drunk. It was not a deliberate attack upon me as his officer. The man was temporarily out of his senses, and struck blindly about him."

It having been settled that the Irishman was to be pardoned on the intercession of Captain Stanburne, the Colonel begged to be presented to Mrs. Anison. "He had not much time," he said, looking at his watch; "he had to be back in Sootythorn in time for mess, and he was anxious to pay his respects to the lady of the house."

So they all went into the drawing-room. After the introductory bows, the Colonel perceived our friend, little Jacob (who had retreated with the ladies); but as he had not quite finished his little speech to Mrs.

Anison about her successful nursing, he did not as yet take any direct notice of him. When the duties of politeness had been fully performed, the Colonel beckoned for little Jacob, and when he came to him, laid both hands on his shoulders.

"And so you're here, too, are you, young man? I thought you were at Shayton with your grandmamma."

Lieutenant Ogden came up at this instant to excuse himself. "My mother only came to Whittlecup yesterday, Colonel, and she brought my little boy with her." Mrs. Ogden approached the group.

"I'm little Jacob's grandmother," she said, "and I'm mother to this great lad here" (pointing to the Lieutenant), "and it's as much as ever I can do to take care of him. What did you send him by himself to Whittlecup for? You should have known better nor that; sending a drunkard like him to stop by hisself in a public-house. If he's a back-slider now, it's 'long o' them as turned him into temptation, same as a cow into a clover-field. I wish he'd never come into th' malicious (militia)--I do so."

The Colonel was little accustomed to be spoken to with that unrestrained frankness which characterizes the inhabitants of Shayton, and felt a temporary embarra.s.sment under Mrs. Ogden's onslaught. "Well, Mrs. Ogden, let us hope that Mr. Isaac will be safe now under your protection."

"Safe? Ay, he is safe now, I reckon, when he's getten his mother to take care of him; and there's more on ye as wants your mothers to take care on ye, by all accounts."

"Mother," said the Lieutenant, "you shouldn't talk so to the Colonel.

You should bear in mind how he kept little Jacob at Wenderholme Hall."

Mrs. Ogden was pacified immediately, and held out her hand. "I thank you for that," she said, "you were very kind to th' childt; and I've been doin' a piece of needlework ever since for your wife, but it willn't be finished while Christmas."

"Mother, you shouldn't say 'your wife'--you should say 'her ladyship,'"

observed the Lieutenant, in a low tone.

"My wife will be greatly obliged to you, Mrs. Ogden. I hope you will make her acquaintance before you leave the regiment; for I may say that you belong to the regiment now, since you have come to be Lieutenant Ogden's commanding officer."

Mrs. Anison had been first an astonished and then an amused auditor of this colloquy, but she ended it by offering Mrs. Ogden a cup of tea.

Then the Colonel began to talk to Mrs. Anison. He had that hearty and frank enjoyment of the society of ladies which is not only perfectly compatible with morality, but especially belongs to it as one of its best attributes and privileges. Good women liked the Colonel, and the Colonel liked good women; he liked them none the less when they were handsome, as Mrs. Anison was, and when they could talk well and easily, as she did. Some women are distinguished by nature; and though Mrs.

Anison had seen little of the great world, and the Colonel had seen a good deal of it, the difference of experience did not place a perceptible barrier between them. The time seemed to have pa.s.sed rapidly for both when the visitor took his leave.

CHAPTER XX.

PHILIP STANBURNE IN LOVE.