CHAPTER XII.

GAZETTED—THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE RUNS

UNUSUALLY SMOOTH.

'Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;
But oh, she looks in such a way!

No sun upon an Easter day

Is half so fine a sight.'

SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

HE following announcement appeared in the
Gazette of the 10th July 186- :-

'120th Foot. Gentleman - Cadet Francis Warrington, from the Royal Military College, to be ensign, without purchase, vice Henry George Bateman, deceased.'

There was no mistaking it: I was now an ensign in one of the smartest corps of light bobs' in Her Majesty's Service.

'I am so glad, Frank!' exclaimed Mary Colemore, looking over my shoulder and reading the news for herself. (I was staying at 'The Cedars' for a few days.)

'I hope the 120th is a nice regiment! Where did you put the Army List papa bought yesterday?'

There it is, on the writing-table.'

Infantry.
Horse.

120th. The Loamshire (Prince of Wales') Light The Prince of Wales Plume. The White "Nec aspera terrent." "Tournay," "Corunna," Waterloo," "Bhurtpore," "Inkermann," "Sevastopol," and "New Zealand," read Mary. What a number of

actions the regiment has been in!'

'Yes, we have seen a lot of service,' said I; for that particular paragraph in the Army List had been my constant study ever since receiving the notification of my intended appointment to the 120th.

'We, indeed!' cried Mary, laughing. 'Papa, Frank is gazetted!'

'I am delighted to hear it, my dear boy!' exclaimed Mr. Colemore, who had just entered the breakfast-room. 'I wish you every success in your new corps.'

"Ensign Francis Warrington, 120th Prince of Wales' Light Infantry!" How nice it sounds!' Mary said.

"Mary Warrington" sounds much better,' I rejoined in an undertone, the remark being intended for my pretty cousin's ears alone.

What is the uniform?' she inquired, blushing very much.

Scarlet with buff facings. We're quartered at Portsmouth. Two of my old friends, Pat Hughes and Jack Mackinlay, are in the 120th.'

'Pat Hughes!' said Mr. Colemore. Ah! I remember

him well; very amusing little fellow he was! Where has Mary gone?'

'Mrs. Colemore is not coming to breakfast, sir,' said the butler, and I think Miss Mary has gone up to her room.'

Mr. Colemore and I sat down to breakfast, and, as he was occupied with the paper and I with my own thoughts, the meal progressed in silence.

My appointment gave me great pleasure, but the idea uppermost in my mind was that I might now venture to declare my love for Mary. With the exception of the little speech that I had let slip that morning, I had not hinted that I cared for her otherwise than in a cousinly way; for although my views as to early engagements had not changed, it did seem rather incongruous for a Sandhurst cadet to be 'an engaged man.' But now I was an officer, and had put my foot on the first round of the ladder of promotion !

A married ensign would be rather an anomaly, but there was no reason that I could see why he should not 'plight his troth,' if so inclined.

But would Mr. Colemore consent to his daughter engaging herself to a penniless subaltern of twenty-four hours' service? That was rather an awkward question for an ardent lover of nineteen summers to answer!

Frank,' said Mr. Colemore, interrupting my cogitations, when you have finished your breakfast, give me a few minutes in my "den."

'Certainly, Cousin James,' I replied, my heart coming

into my mouth, for I was convinced that Mary would prove the subject of conversation, and perhaps all my châteaux en Espagne would come tumbling about my ears. Appetite for any more breakfast vanished, and every mouthful seemed to choke me.

'Hang it all! I hope he will remember that he was in love himself!' I muttered to myself. What a time he he is over that paper! there's really nothing in it except, of course, the long gazette !'

I trust that, under the circumstances, my discourteous impatience was excusable, for those few minutes seemed interminable; and yet I dreaded the interview. At last my cousin looked up from his paper, folded it, put it on a side-table, and then suggested that we should adjourn to his sanctum. The door closed behind me, and with an assumed air of nonchalence I took a chair in the window, and waited for Mr. Colemore to commence the attack.

'Frank,' he began, after lighting a cigar and seating himself in his own particular chair, 'I am a man of very few words, and detest beating about the bush; as I deal with you, I wish you to deal with me.'

'It has come at last,' thought I, trying to read my fate in my cousin's face.

'Tell me honestly, then,' continued he, 'what are your feelings towards my daughter?'

'I love her very dearly, and hope'

'Stop a minute!' said he, with a deprecatory motion of the hand; have you ever told her this?'

'Never! except '

'Yes, yes! I understand; you mean that little remark I chanced to overhear before breakfast. Now, my boy, let me hear what you have to say.'

My courage had returned to me, and I answered Mr. Colemore in a straightforward manner, explaining my views, expatiating on my love for Mary, and pointing out that though I wished to declare myself, and hear my fate from her own lips, I had no thought of an early marriage, though I hoped he would sanction our being engaged.

Mr. Colemore replied that, as a rule, he considered early and long engagements a mistake, yet in our case he was quite ready to give his approval. He told me that my mother, Fred Brock, and himself had discussed the question, and all hoped my intimacy with Mary would lead to our marriage. At his request no comment had been made upon our evident partiality for each other, he undertaking to speak to me as soon as he thought the right time had come.

In short, to my utter astonishment and delight, my affection for Mary Colemore seemed to have met with unqualified approval, and her mother and father were quite willing to sanction our engagement, merely with the proviso that no marriage should take place before Mary was one-and-twenty, by which time I might fairly hope to have got my lieutenancy.

What I said to Mr. Colemore it is impossible for me to tell; this most unexpected good fortune completely bewildered me, and no doubt I made a fool of myself.