his standing in the army, unless it be Captain Kirke, and I should feel it a regular shame if I got an appointment before him; although, of course, I am on the look-out too — it's only natural, you know, sir."
Colonel Falkland admitted that it was quite natural, and added, heartily, that he hoped his energy would find some fit scope; and as he moved off, Yorke understood the cause of the colonel's popularity, and the respect and admiration felt by all who served with him. He had come under the influence of the charm of his clear, kindly eye, his sweet voice, his courteous yet sincere manner, the sympathy which turned the conversation to the concerns of his companion, the modesty and unselfishness which diverted it from himself. Falkland walked with a slight limp, the effect of a wound received at Sobraon, and wore plain clothes, not well-fitting — the only person, besides the commissioner and the station-chaplain, so dressed. And he could scarcely be called handsome; yet Yorke thought him the most distinguished-looking man in the room, not excepting the very distinguished personage who was present.
But not even Colonel Falkland could distract his attention long from the one object which had brought him to the ball. Miss Cunningham was now dancing with Colonel Tartar, who danced well, but was not quite so tall as his partner. "Most women," thought Yorke as he watched her, "would look awkward in such case; but she can't help looking like a princess. She doesn't dance as if it were a tremendous joke, or as if she were performing a condescension, but as if it were a duty, and yet a pleasant one, to please her partner; and how well she keeps him on his good behaviour, and yet without absolutely snubbing him. Miss Glumme now, or Miss Peart, would be so pleased at being asked to dance by Tartar, that they would allow him to be as impudent as he pleased. Miss Glumme wouldn't understand it, and Miss Peart would enjoy it. But what am I, a poor subaltern of native infantry — with these confounded wings too, which make a fellow look ridiculous — to think of ever winning such a peerless creature as that! I daresay she looks on me as a mere boy, and yet I must be a good five years older, for according to Buxey she is only twenty-one. After all, I may get my company in a few years, and then with a war and a brevet-majority perhaps, her father would not object. But how can I expect her to remain unwon all the time, and have I made even a single step in advance? What a simpleton I must have seemed this evening, with my jargon about the quartermaster-general's department, and holding two companies! Why couldn't I talk like a man of the world, such as she must have been accustomed to meet with at home?"
Thus mused the young man, moodily gazing towards her, as she danced with one partner after another, watching her movements from a corner so fixedly that if the rest of the company had not been engaged in their own concerns, his pre-occupation would have been noticed. Once indeed her eyes met his, as she stopped with her partner in the course of a waltz just opposite to where he was standing, and she gave him a glance of acknowledgment which set the young man's heart bounding. Again Yorke established himself nearly opposite the rout-seat on which she was resting between the dances, in the archway which divided the long room; and this time, when she looked up towards him, her face flushed and took a sudden expression of surprise and anxiety, which caused him to drop his eyes and move away, reproaching himself for his too pointed attention, and yet inwardly rejoicing at what he had observed. Surely, he thought, she has learnt my secret; and if I have been too bold and too quick, still she has not treated it with scorn, as she might have done. Something at least has been gained already in my suit. Had Yorke, however, turned round and looked behind him, he would have understood that something other than his ardent glances caused the distress which the lady exhibited.
Shortly after this, Miss Cunningham was led into the supper-tent by Major Winge of the hussars, — a married man with a large family, thought Yorke with a sigh of relief; and then, just as he was summoning up strength of mind to follow the more distinguished guests there, the young lady emerged again there from with her father and Colonel Falkland, and stepping into their carriage, the party drove off.
Yorke passed into the tent, where, among other persons, was Mrs. Polwheedle under escort of the eminent personage, who stood by the supper-table while she partook liberally of trifle and champagne; but not even her evident gratification at this distinguished position could
