"No. I'll tell her," said Peregrine, opening the door and escorting him out into the hall. "Goodbye! Come safely through the war, won't you?"

"No fear of that! I always take good care of my skin!" replied the Colonel, and raised his hand in a friendly salute, and ran down the steps into the street.

Peregrine went slowly upstairs to the salon. He had probably never been so unhappy in his life. Harriet was seated by the window, with some sewing in her hands. They looked at one another. Peregrine's lip quivered. He did not know what to say to her, or how to reassure her when his own heart felt like lead in his chest. All that came into his head to say was her name, spoken in an uncertain voice.

She saw suddenly that he was looking ashamed and miserable. The cause receded in her mind; it was not forgotten, it would never, perhaps, be forgotten, but it became a thing of secondary importance before the more pressing need to comfort him. She perceived that he was no older than his own son, as much in need of her reassurance as that younger Perry, when he had been naughty, and was sorry. She got up, throwing her stitchery aside, and went to Peregrine, and put her arms round him. "Yes, Perry. It's no matter. It doesn't signify. I was silly."

He clasped her to him; his head went down on her shoulder; he whispered: "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what -"

"Yes." She stoked his hair caressingly. The thought of Barbara no longer troubled her. A deeper grief, whichshe would never speak of, was the discovery that Peregrine was not a rock of strength for her to lean on, not a hero to be worshipped, but only a handsome, beloved boy who went swaggering bravely forth, but needed her to pick him up when he fell and hurt himself. She put the knowledge away from her. His abasement made her uncomfortable; even though she knew it to be make-believe he must be set on his pedestal again. She said: "Yes, we'll go home. But how will we settle our affairs here? Will it not take some time?"

He raised his head. "No. I'll see to everything. You have only to pack your trunks. There is a packet leaving Ostend on Monday."

"This house! Our passages! How shall we manage?"

"Don't worry: I'll do it all!

He was climbing back on to the pedestal; they would not speak of this incident again; they would pretend each one of them, that it had not happened. In the end Peregrine would believe that it had not, and Harriette would pretend, even to herself, because there were some truths it was better not to face.

Judith, anxiously awaiting the result of the Colonel's interview with his brother, could scarcely believe him when he told her curtly that the Taverners were leaving Brussels. She exclaimed: "You don't mean it! I had not though it to be possible! What can you have said constrain him?"

"There was no other course to follow. He was fully sensible of it."

He spoke rather harshly. She said in a pleading tongue "Do not be too angry with him, Charles! He is so young."

"You are mistaken: I am not angry with him. I am excessively sorry for him, poor devil!"

"I am persuaded he will soon recover."

"Oh yes! But that one so near to me should have caused this unhappiness -" He checked himself.

"If it had not been Lady Barbara it would have been another, I daresay."

He was silent, and she did not like to pursue the topic. Worth presently came in, followed by the butler with the tea tray, and Judith was glad to see the Colonel rouse himself from a mood of abstraction, and join with all his usual cheerfulness in the ordinary commonplace talk of every day.

He did not go out again that evening, nor, next morning, was his horse saddled for an early ride. The Sky was overcast, and a thin rain was falling. It stopped later, and by noon the sun was shining, but a press of work at Headquarters kept the Colonel busy all the morning.

In the afternoon there was a review in the Allee Verte of the English, Scottish, and Hanoverian troops ,quartered in and about Brussels. These constituted the reserve of the Army, and included the 5th Division, Destined for the command of Sir Thomas Picton. They were crack troops, and the crowd of onlookers, watching them march past, felt that with such men as these to defend them there could be no need for even the most timorous to fly for safety to the coast.

"Some of our best regiments," said the Duke, as they went past him.

There was good Sir James Kempt's brigade, four proud regiments: the Slashers, the 32nd, the Cameron Highlanders, and the 1st battalion of the 95th riflemen, in their dark green uniforms and their jauntyccaps.

There was fiery Sir Denis Pack, with his choleric eye, and his heavily arched brows, at the head of the highland brigade. The Belgians began to cheer, for the kilt never lost its fascination for them, and in this 9th brigade was only one English regiment. The Royal Scots went by with pipes playing, followed by Macara, with his 42nd Royal Highlanders, and by handsome John Cameron of Fassiefern, with the 92nd: the Gay Gordons. The cheering broke out again and again; small boys, clinging to their fathers' hands, shouted: "Jupes! Jupes! Jupes!" in an ecstasy of delight; hats were waved, handkerchiefs fluttered; and when the last of the kilts and the tall hats with their nodding plume had gone by, it was felt that the best of the review was over. Colonel von Vincke's Hanoverians excited little enthusiasm, but the Duke, as he watched them march past, said in his terse fashion: "Those are good troops. too - or they will be, when I get good officers into them."

The British ambassador's ball had been fixed to take place in the evening, and the Duke was entertaining a party at dinner before attending it. The Prince of Orange rode in from his Headquarters at Braine-le-Comte in high spirits, and full of news from the frontier; several divisional commanders were present. and the usual corps of foreign diplomats attached to the Anglo-Allied Army. The conversation related almost entirely to the approaching war, and was conducted. out of deference to the foreigners, in firm British-French by everyone but Sir Colin Campbell, who. having, to the Duke's unconcealed amusement, made three gaffes, relapsed into defiant English, and relied on Colonel Audley to translate such of his remarks as he wished to be made public.

The evening was considerably advanced when the dinner party broke up, and the Duke and his guest were almost the last to arrive at Sir Charles Stuart's house. A cotillion was being danced; Colonel Audley saw Barbara, partnered by the Comte de Lavisse; and her two brothers: Harry with one of the Lennox girls and George with Miss Elizabeth Conynghame. Miss Devenish was not dancing, but stood a little way away, beside Lady Worth. The Colonel soon went to them, claimed both their hands for dances, and stood with them for some moments, watching the progress of the cotillion. Catching sight of him Barbara kissed her fan to him. He responded with a smile, and a wave of the hand, and without any appearance of constraint. Judith could not but wonder at it, and was reflecting upon the unfairness of its having been Peregrine who had borne all the blame, when the Duke's voice, speaking directly behind her, made her turn her head involuntarily.

"Oh yes!" he was saying, in his decided way. "The French Army is without doubt a wonderful machine. Now, I make my campaigns with ropes. If anything goes wrong, I tie a knot, and go on."

"What is the most difficult thing in war, Duke?" someone asked him idly.

"To know when to retreat, and to dare to do it!" he replied, without hesitation. He saw Judith looking at him, and stepped up to her. "How d'ye do? I'm very glad to see you. But you are not dancing! That won't do."

"No, for I arrived when the cotillion was already formed. May I present to your Grace one who has long desired that honour? - Miss Devenish!" Blushing, and torn between delight and confusion, Lucy made her curtsy. The Duke shook hands with her, saying with a laugh: "It's a fine thing to be a great man, it not? Very happy to make Miss Devenish's aquaintance. But what is all this standing-about? Don't tell me that there is no young fellow wishing to lead you out, for I shan't believe you!"

"No indeed, there are a great many!" replied Judith, smiling. "But the thing is that Miss Devenish, like me, arrived too late to take part in this set. You will not see her standing about again tonight, I assure you."

"That's right! Always dance while you may."

"How long will that be, Duke?" enquired Judith.

"Oh, now you are asking me more than I can tell you! For as long as you please, I daresay."

He nodded, and passed on. The cotillion came to an end soon after, and as Barbara walked off the floor Colonel Audley went forward to meet her.

She held out her hand to him. "Wretch! Do you know how confoundedly late you are?"

"Yes. Have you kept my waltzes?"

"Oh, I am in a charming humour! You may have as many as you please."

"All, then. How do you do, Lavisse? How do you go on in your neighbourhood?"

The Count shrugged. "Oh, parbleu! We watch the frontier, and grow excited at the mere changing of an advance guard. And you? What news have you?"

"Very little. We hear of the Russians approaching Frankfort, and of General Kruse being at Maestrich: Hallo, Harry! More leave?"

Lord Harry Alastair had come up to them, and replied to this quizzing remark with a grin and a wink . Having decided upon first meeting him that Audley was a very good sort of a fellow, he had lost no time is making him feel one of the family. He had several times borrowed money from him, which, however, he generally remembered to pay back, soon treated him with affectionate respect, and had even asked his advice on the conduct of an alarming affair with a Belgian lady of easy virtue. The Colonel's advice had been so sound that his lordship declared he owed his preservation to him and opined darkly that Audley must have learned a thing or two worth knowing in Spain.