He had just reached Elvas, after spending six tedious weeks at Ciudad Rodrigo, under the surgeon’s hands.  He now found his own hands full of regimental business—­accumulated against his arrival—­and being a prompt man, set himself to work, though yet little fit for it.

Though he had seen Lady Mabel but once, he was not suffered to forget her.  Every young officer he met, and many of the older, had something to say of her, some comment to make on the attractions at headquarters, some details to give of the witty things said, and the graceful things done by Lady Mabel; for she said many happy things, and did many things well, and was, at all events, sure of admiration.  All this only the more convinced L’Isle that her position was very inappropriate to one so beautiful and young.

After some days he began to think himself guilty of gross neglect in not having called on the lady at headquarters.  Disliking, however, to make one of an admiring crowd, he showed his strategy in choosing well his time, and called on Lady Mabel on the day and at the hour when an inspection of the troops having been ordered, every officer was at his post except himself—­yet too weak to be expected to put himself at the head of his regiment.

On calling, he was immediately admitted.  Lady Mabel apparently had been reading in the room in which she received him.  He now saw her for the first time alone, and she was by no means aware what a critical examination she was undergoing.  Her manner was different from what he had expected.  With quiet politeness she received his visit as one of mere etiquette to the lady at headquarters.  That repose of manner might indicate a cold disposition, or might cover strength of character and depth of feeling, not given to perpetual demonstrations, but showing vigor and animation, with telling effect, at the right time.  There was no indication of that craving for company, of the ennui at being thrown upon her own resources for a whole morning, so common with young women brought up in a crowd, and habitually surrounded by admirers.  “As yet,” thought L’Isle, “she has escaped that.”  He even thought he could perceive that he had interrupted her in some occupation, which would be resumed the moment he left her; that his visit was a parenthesis awkwardly thrust in between, and breaking the connection of her morning hours.

Lady Mabel expressed some surprise at his being at leisure just at this time, but added:  “I suppose you are yet too weak to burden yourself with such mere formalities as parades and inspections.”

L’Isle was a martinet, and this a military heresy.  “Keeping the troops up to the mark, fit for instant service, is not a matter of form; and that is the end of parades and inspections.  But,” added he, smiling, “I am not surprised at your mistake; for I find, on coming to Elvas, that many of my brother officers have embraced the same opinion.  They have got tired of these formalities, and dispense with them as often as they can.  But I must not find fault with them, while indulging myself as an invalid longer than is absolutely necessary.  Confinement and idleness have made me a little lazy.”