“Naturally so.  I suppose it is the young lady I saw you walking with this morning.”

And Harry blushed like a girl as he gravely nodded his head.

“Does she live here?”

“She will for the future.”

“And you must go back to your regiment?”

“Almost immediately.”

“Too bad!  Too bad!  Why not leave the army?”

“I—­I have thought of that; but unless I returned to Sandal-Side, my father would be angry beyond every thing.”

“Fathers cannot be autocrats—­quite.  You might sell out.”

“Julius, you ought not to suggest such a thing.  The temptation has been lurking in my own heart.  I am sorry you have given it a voice.  It would be a shameful thing to do unless father were willing.”

“I have a friend anxious for a commission.  I should think a thousand pounds would make an exchange.”

“Do not speak on the subject, Julius.”

“Very well.  I was only supposing; a fellow-feeling, you know.  I have married the girl I desired; and I am sorry for a young man who is obliged to leave a handsome mistress, and to feel that others may see her and talk to her while he cannot.  It was only a supposition.  Do not mind it.”

But the germ of every wrong deed is the reflection whether it be possible.  And after Harry had gone away with the thought in his heart, Julius sat musing over his own plans, and Sophia wrote the letter which so unnecessarily and unkindly shadowed the pleasant life at Seat-Sandal.  For though the squire pooh-poohed it, and Charlotte professed indifference about it, and Mrs. Sandal kept assuring herself and others that “Harry never, never would do any thing wrong or unkind, especially about a woman,” every one was apprehensive and watchful.  But at last, even suspicion tires of watching for events that never happen; and Sophia sent other letters, and made no mention of Harry; and the fear that had crouched at each home-heart slunk away into forgetfulness.

Into total forgetfulness.  When Harry voluntarily came home for Christmas, no one coupled his visit with the remarks made by Sophia four months previously.  They had not expected to see him, and the news of his advent barely reached the house before he followed it; for there was a heavy snow-storm, and the mail was sent forward with difficulty.  So Mrs. Sandal was reading the letter announcing his visit when she heard his voice in the hall, and the joyful cry of Charlotte as she ran to meet him.  And that night every one was too happy, too full of inquiry and information, to notice that Harry was under an unusual restraint.  It did not even strike Charlotte until she awoke the next morning with all her faculties fresh and clear; then she felt, rather than understood, that there was something not quite right about Harry.