buffalo robes, lit the inevitable cigar, and jingled merrily off to the
music of the bells.




CHAPTER IV.

SATURDAY AT HOME.

Unhasp the lock--like elves set free,
Flit out old memories;
A strange glow gathers round my heart.
Strange moisture dims mine eyes.
--Lawrance.


Cecil woke the next morning with the feeling that something pleasant had
happened; and then she remembered that Bertie Du Meresq was actually in
the house, and the old folly as likely as ever to begin again; but, not
possessing the self-examining powers of Anthony Trolloppe's heroines, she
made no attempt to argue herself out of her unreasonable happiness, and,
indeed, dwelt far more than necessary on the warm, sudden hand-clasp so
inopportunely witnessed by full private Bowers. She came down radiant,
and looking positively handsome; but when did a too sunny dawn escape a
cloud ere noon? Bertie seemed different somehow,--was not certain he
could get more leave,--was even doubtful about asking for it; and Cecil's
mental Mercury, which had been "set fair," went down to "change." In
reality, Du Meresq not being so etherealized by love, felt out of sorts,
and not up to the mark that morning, and, therefore, probably opined with