them appeared the full-foliaged tops of trees planted in the
barrack-yard. It looked as though the grim walls belted a secret
orchard. What with the frowning battlements, the very few
windows diminutive and closely barred, the sullen entrance and
the absence of any gracious greenery, Gartley Fort resembled the
Castle of Giant Despair. On the hither side, but invisible to
the lovers, great cannons scowled on the river they protected,
and, when they spoke, received answer from smaller guns across
the stream. There less extensive forts were concealed amidst
trees and masked by turf embankments, to watch and guard the
golden argosies of London commerce.

Lucy, always impressionable, shivered with her hand in that of
Archie's, as she stared at the landscape, melancholy even in the
brilliant sunshine.

"I should hate to live in Gartley Fort," said she abruptly. "One
might as well be in jail."

"If you marry Random you will have to live there, or on a baggage
wagon. He is R.G.A. captain, remember, and has to go where glory
calls him, like a good soldier."

"Glory can call until glory is hoarse for me," retorted the girl
candidly. "I prefer an artist's studio to a camp."

"Why?" asked Hope, laughing at her vehemence.

"The reason is obvious. I love the artist."