“My dear Mrs. Elmsley,” he replied, coloring, “where should I have been but in the Fort?”

“True! where should you have been, indeed; but this is not the point, my hungry gentleman.  Where were you?  If I was, I know who,” she added, significantly, “I should have my suspicions, unless, indeed, you have already confessed within the few minutes you have been in the room.”

“Nay, do not imagine I have so much influence over the truant, as to compel him to the confessional,” said Maria Heywood.  “I assure you I am quite as much in the dark as any one present.”

“Come, Mr. Ronayne, recount your adventures,” added Mrs. Headley.  “Recollect you are not on parade now, or exactly before the sternest Court of Inquiry in the world, and should therefore, entertain no dread of punishment on your self-conviction.”

“Thus urged and encouraged,” said the ensign, during one of the short pauses of his knife and fork, which, in truth, he had handled as much to study what he should say, as to satisfy his hunger; “who could resist such pleading, were there really any thing to communicate; but I am quite at a loss to conceive why so general an opinion seems to prevail that I have been out of the Fort, and in quest of adventure.  Why not rather ascribe my tardiness at parade to some less flattering cause—­a head-ache—­fatigue from night-watching—­indolence, or even a little entetement, arising from the denial of a very imprudent request I made to Captain Headley last evening, to allow me the command of a detachment for a particular purpose.  Pardon me, I have made quite a speech, but indeed you compel me.”

“Let us drown this inquisition in a bumper of claret,” interposed Elmsley, coming to the assistance of his friend, whose motive for thus parrying inquiry into his conduct, he thought he could divine.  “I say, my dear fellow, you may wish yourself a head-ache—­fatigue—­ indolence, or even a little entetement every morning of your life, if it is to be cured in this manner.  This is some of the most splendid Lafayette that ever found its way into these western wilds.  Look well at it.  It is of the clearest, the purest blood of the grape—­taste it again.  A bottle of it will do you no harm if you had twenty guards in charge.”

As he had desired and expected, the introduction of his remarks on the wine proved not only a means of changing the conversation, but of causing the ladies to withdraw from the table, round which they had been sitting, rather to keep the young officer company, than to participate in the repast themselves.  Mrs. Headley was the first to move.

“Give me your arm, and see me home,” she said carelessly, to Ronayne, who now having finished his breakfast, had also risen.  “Do not be jealous, my dear Miss Heywood, but you will later know, if you do not know already, that the wife of the commanding officer always appropriates to herself, the handsomest unmarried young officer of the regiment.”