medicinal virtue.

Lady Mabel was in high spirits, talking and laughing, and occasionally
looking round at Moodie, enjoying the deception she had put upon
him. Her success in bewildering him, now tempted her to quiz L'Isle,
and she abruptly said: "It must have been a violent fit of patriotism
and martial ardor that made you abandon the thought of taking orders,
and quit Oxford for the camp."

"I never had any thought of taking orders," answered L'Isle, surprised
and annoyed, he knew not exactly why. "I only lived with those who
had."

"You lived with them to some purpose, then, and have, too, a great
aptitude for the church."

"It is not my vocation," said L'Isle, laconically.

"You have only not yet found it out. But it is not too late," she
persisted. "Your case, my good man-slaying Christian, is not like
Gonsalvo's of Cordova, who had but a remnant of his days in which to
play the penitent monk. These wars will soon be over, and you are
still young. If you cannot make a general, you may be a bishop in
time. Indeed, I already see in you a pillar of our church."

It was not flattering to an ambitious young soldier to hint that he
had so mistaken his calling. L'Isle was almost angry, at which Lady
Mabel felt a mischievous delight; and Mrs. Shortridge was highly
amused.