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diff --git a/old/64603-0.txt b/old/64603-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index db154ce..0000000 --- a/old/64603-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2567 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mignon, by J. S. Winter - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Mignon - or, Bootles’ Baby - -Author: J. S. Winter - -Release Date: February 21, 2021 [eBook #64603] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Les Bowler - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIGNON *** - - - - - MIGNON - OR, BOOTLES’ BABY - - - A Novelette - - BY J. S. Winter - - AUTHOR OF “CAVALRY LIFE” AND “REGIMENTAL LEGENDS” - - * * * * * - - ILLUSTRATED - - * * * * * - - _Books you may hold readily in your hand are the most useful_, _after - all_ - - DR. JOHNSON - - * * * * * - - NEW YORK - - HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS - - 1885 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - -“Let’s go and have a look at it.” 17 -Bootles, proud of his new accomplishment, lifted the child awkwardly 21 -in his arms. -“I can’t condemn that helpless thing to the workhouse.” 33 -Mignon’s own–illustration. 37 -Mrs. Gray rose and went close to him, laying her hand upon his arm. 43 -But Lacy was already on the ground, and caught Miss Mignon out of 55 -harm’s way. -“What a lot of medals you’ve got!” 59 -In another moment they had drawn up at the great gothic doorway. 73 -Lacy was occupied in making desperate love to the Russian lady. 83 -Then with one imploring backward look she went away and left him 89 -alone. -He dropped into a chair and took her in his arms. 93 -The swarming crowd round the other was watching a more exciting race 103 -than that which they had just witnessed. -A race between life and death. 107 -Bootles watched them—the two things he loved best on earth. 117 - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -IT was considerably after midnight when one of three officers seated at a -whist-table in the mess-room of the Cavalry Barracks at Idleminster, -where the Scarlet Lancers were quartered, called out, “Bootles, come and -take a hand—there’s a good chap.” - -Captain Algernon Ferrers, more commonly known as “Bootles,” looked up. - -“I don’t mind if I do,” he said, rising and moving towards them. “What -do you want me to do? Who’s my partner?” - -The three other men stared at one another in surprise, for Bootles was -one of the best whist-players in the regiment, and in an ordinary way -would as soon have thought of counting honors as of settling the -questions of partners other than by cutting, except in the case of a -revenge. - -“Why, take a card, of course, my friend,” laughed Lacy, in a ridiculously -soft voice. Lacy was a recent importation from the White Dragoons, and -had taken possession of the place left vacant in Bootles’s every-day life -by Scott Laurie’s marriage. - -“Ah, yes; to be sure—cut, of course. I believe,” said Bootles, looking -at the three faces before him in an uncertain way—“I believe I’ve got a -headache.” - -“Oh, nothing like whist for a headache,” answered Hartog, turning up the -last card. “Ace of diamonds.” However, after stumbling through one -game—after twice trumping his partner’s trick, a revoke, and several such -like blunders—he rose to his feet. - -“It’s no use, you fellows; I’m no good to-night—I can’t even see the -cards. Get some one to take my place and make a fresh start.” - -“Why, you’re ill, Bootles,” cried Preston. “What is it?” - -“It’s a devil of a headache,” answered Bootles, promptly. “Here’s -Miles—the very man. Goodnight.” - -“Good-night,” called the fellows after him. Then they settled down to -their game, and Preston dealt. - -“Never saw Bootles seedy before,” said Lacy. - -“Oh yes; he gets these headaches sometimes,” answered Hartog. “Not -often, though. Miles, your lead.” - -Meantime Bootles went wearily away, almost feeling his road under the -veranda of the mess-rooms, along the broad _pavé_ in front of the -officers’ quarters, and up the wide flight of stone steps to his rooms -facing the green of the barrack square. Being the senior captain, with -only one bachelor field-officer in the regiment, he had two large and -pleasant rooms, not very grandly furnished, for, though a rich man, he -was not an extravagant one, and saw no fun in having costly goods and -chattels to be at the tender mercies of soldier servants; but they were -neat, clean, and comfortable, with a sufficiency of great easy -travelling-chairs, plenty of fur rugs, and lots of pretty little pictures -and knickknacks. - -The fire in his sitting-room was fast dying out, but a bright and -cheerful blaze illumined his sleeping-room, shining on the brass knobs of -his cot, on the silver ornamentations at the corners of his -dressing-case, on three or four scent bottles on the tall -cretonne-petticoated toilette table, and on the tired but resplendent -figure of Bootles himself. - -He dragged the big chair pretty near to the fire, and dropped into it -with a sigh of relief, absolutely too sick and weary to think about -getting into bed just then. As Hartog had said, sometimes these -headaches seized him, but it did not happen often; in fact, he had not -had one for more than a year—quite often enough, he said. - -Well, he had been lying in the big and easy chair, his eyes shut and his -hands hanging idly over the broad straps which served for arms, for -perhaps half an hour, when to his surprise he heard a soft rustling -movement behind him. His first and not unnatural thought was that the -fellows had come to draw him, so, without moving, he called out, “Oh! -confound it all, don’t come boring a poor devil with a headache. By -Jove, it’s cruelty to animals, neither more nor less.” - -The soft rustling ceased, and Bootles closed his eyes again, with a -devout prayer that they would, in response to this appeal, take -themselves off. But presently it began again, accompanied by a sound -which made his heart jump almost into his mouth, and beat so furiously as -to be simply suffocating. It stopped—was repeated—“_The_—DEVIL,” -muttered Bootles. - -But it was not the devil at all—more like a little angel, in truth; for -after a moment’s irresolution he sprang from his chair and faced the -horror behind him. It really was a horror to him, for there, sitting up -among the pillows of the cot, with the clothes pushed back, was a baby, a -baby whose short golden curls shone in the fire-light—a little child -dressed in white, with a pair of wide-open, wondering eyes, as bright as -stars and as blue as sapphires. - -Bootles stood in dismay staring at it. - -“Where, in the name of all that’s wonderful, did _you_ come from?” he -asked aloud, keeping at a safe distance lest it should suddenly start -howling. - -But the little stranger did not howl; on the contrary, as its bewildered -eyes fell upon Bootles’s resplendent figure, his gold-laced scarlet -jacket and gold-embroidered waistcoat of white velvet, his gold-laced -overalls and jingling spurs, it stretched out its little arms and cried, -“Boo, boo, boo—!” - -Bootles took a step back in his surprise, and his headache vanished as if -by magic. - -“By—Jove!” he exclaimed. - -“Boo—boo—boo!” crowed the usurper of the cot, cheerily. - -Bootles went a step nearer. “Why, you’re a queer little beggar,” he -remarked. “Where did you come from, eh?” - -The “queer little beggar” suddenly changed its tone, and started another -system of crowing more triumphant and cheery than the first. - -“Chucka—chucka—chucka—chuck!” it went. - -Bootles began to laugh. “Can’t talk, hey? Well, what do you want?” as -it struggled fiercely to rise, and stretched out its small arms more -impatiently than before. “Want to be lifted up, hey? Oh, but dash it,” -scratching his head perplexedly, “I can’t lift you up, you know; it’s out -of the question—impossible. By Jove, I might let you drop and smash -you!” - -“Chucka—chucka—chucka! Boo—oo—oo!” gobbled the baby, as if it were the -best joke in the world. - -Bootles positively roared. - -“You don’t mind? Well, come along, then,” approaching very gingerly, and -wondering where he should begin to get hold of it, so to speak. - -The baby soon settled that question, holding out its arms towards his -neck. Then somehow he gathered it up and carried it in doubt and -trepidation to the big chair by the fire, where the creature sat -contentedly upon his knee, the curly golden head resting against his -scarlet jacket, the soft fingers of one baby hand tight twined round one -of his, the other picking and wandering aimlessly about the scrolls and -curves of the gold embroidery on his waistcoat. - -“By Jove! you’re a jolly little chap,” said Bootles, just as if it could -understand him. “But the question is, where did you come from, and -what’s to be done with you? You can’t stop here, you know.” - -The babe’s big blue eyes raised themselves to his, and the fingers which -had been twined round his made a grab at his watch-chain. - -“Gar—gar—garr—rah!” it remarked, in such evident delight that Bootles -laughed again. - -“Oh, you like it, do you? Well, you’re a queer little beggar; no mistake -about that. I wonder whom you belong to, and where you live when you are -at home? Can’t be a barrack child—too dainty-looking and not slobbery -enough. And this dress”—taking hold of the richly embroidered white -skirt—“this must have cost a lot; and it’s all lace too.” - -He knew what embroidery cost by his own mess waistcoats and his tunics. -Then not only was the dress of the child of a very costly description, -but its sleeves were tied up with Cambridge blue ribbons that were -evidently new, and its waist was encircled by a broad sash of the same -material and tint. Altogether it was just such a child as he was -occasionally called upon to admire in the houses of his married brother -officers; yet that any lady in the regiment would lend her baby for a -whole night to a set of harum-scarum young fellows for the purpose of -playing a trick on a brother officer was manifestly absurd. And besides -that, Bootles was so good-natured and such a favorite with the ladies of -the regiment that he thought he knew all their babies by sight, and he -became afraid that this one was indeed a little stranger in the land, -welcome or unwelcome. - -Yet if it was the fellows’ doing, where had they got it? And if it was -not the fellows’ doing, why should any one leave a baby asleep in his -cot? The whole thing was inexplicable. - -Just then the child, in playing with his chain, slipped a little on the -smooth cloth of his overalls, and Bootles, with a “Whoa! whoa, my lad!” -hauled it up again. In doing so he felt a piece of paper rustle -somewhere about the embroidered skirt. - -“A note. This grows melodramatic,” said Bootles, craning his head to -find it. “Oh, here we are! Now we shall see.” - -The note was written in a firm, large, yet thoroughly feminine hand, and -ran thus: - - “You will not absolve me from my oath of secrecy respecting our - marriage, though now that I have offended you, I may starve or go to - the work-house. I cannot break my oath, though you have broken _all_ - yours, but I am determined that you _shall_ acknowledge your child. - I am going to leave her to-night in your rooms with her clothes. By - midnight I shall be out of the country. I do this because I have - obtained a good situation, and because when I reach my destination I - shall have spent my last shilling. I give you fair warning, however, - that if you desert the child, or fail to acknowledge her, I will - break my oath and proclaim our marriage. If you engage a nurse she - will not be much trouble. She is a good and sweet-tempered child, - and I have called her Mary, after your dear mother. Oh, how she - would pity me if she could see me now! Farewell.” - -From that moment Bootles absolved “the fellows” from any share in the -affair; but what to do with the child he had not the least idea. - -“It is the very devil,” he said aloud, watching the busy fingers still -playing with his chain. - -He gathered it awkwardly in his arms, and rose to look for the clothing -spoken of in the letter. Yes, there it was, a parcel of goodly size, -wrapped in a stout brown paper cover, and on the chair beside his cot lay -the out-door garments of a young child—a white coat bordered with fur, a -fur-trimmed cap, and some other things, which Bootles did not quite -understand the use of; white wool fingerless gloves (at least he did not -know what else they could be), and some longer things of the same class, -like stockings without feet. - -Bootles shook his head bewilderingly. “Mother means it to stop; _I_ -don’t know what to do,” he said, helplessly. - -It occurred to him then that perhaps some of the fellows might be able to -make a suggestion. He did not know what to do with the child for the -night, nor, for the matter of that, what to do with it for the moment. -He had the sense not to take it out into the chill midnight air, and when -he attempted to put it back into the cot it rebelled, clinging to his -watch-chain with might and main. - -“Well, have it then,” he said, slipping it off. - -The baby, pleased with the glittering toy, set up a cry of delight, and -Bootles took the opportunity of slipping out. He entered the anteroom -with a very rueful face, finding it pretty much as he had left it. Lacy -was the first to catch sight of him. - -“Halloo, Bootles, what’s the mat-tah?” he asked. “Is your head worse?” - -“My head? Oh, I forgot all about it,” Bootles replied. “But, I say, I’m -in a mess. There’s a baby in my room.” - -“A WHAT?” they cried, with one voice. - -“A baby,” repeated Bootles, dismally. - -“Al—ive?” asked Lacy, with his head on one side. - -“Alive! Oh, very, very much so, and means to stop, for it has brought -its entire wardrobe and a letter of introduction with it,” holding the -letter for any one to take who chose. It was Lacy who did so, and he -asked if he should read it up. - -“Yes, do,” said Bootles, dropping into a chair with a groan. “Perhaps -some one else will own to it.” - -So Lacy read the letter in his ridiculous drawl of a voice, and ceased -amid profound silence—“Fa-ah-well!” - -“Well?” said Bootles, finding no one seemed inclined to speak. “Well?” - -“Well,” said Preston, solemnly, “if you want my opinion, Bootles, I think -you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” - -A general laugh followed, but Bootles protested. - -“Oh, don’t imagine it’s me. I’ve nothing to do with it. I shouldn’t -have come to you fellows if I had.” - -“No, no, of course not,” returned Miles, promptly, but with an air which -raised another shout. - -“Then it’s a plant,” announced Preston, in a tone of conviction. - -“Of course it’s a plant,” cried Bootles; “but why in the wide world -should it be planted on me?” - -“Why, indeed?” echoed Miles, feelingly. - -“Besides,” Bootles continued, “some of you know my mother, and that her -name was not Mary but Margaret.” - -Now as several of those present had known Lady Margaret Ferrers very -well, that was a strong point in favor of Preston’s assertion that the -affair was a plant. The chief question, however, was what could be done -with the little stranger for that night. Some woman, of course, must -look after it, but who? It was then after two o’clock, and the lights -had been out hours ago in the married people’s quarters. Bootles did not -know what to do, and said so. - -“Is it in your room now?” Preston asked. - -“Yes.” - -“Where did you find it?” - -“In my cot.” - -“The devil you did! I wonder you weren’t frightened out of your very -wits.” - -“I nearly was,” Bootles admitted. - -“Did you see it at once? Was it howling?” - -“Howling? Not a bit of it. Never saw a jollier little beggar in all my -life.” - -“Oh!” ejaculated Miles, blankly. “I say, you fellows, don’t that sound -to you very much like the proud pap—ah?” - -“You fellows” all laughed at this, even perplexed Bootles, and Hartog -asked a question. - -“Did you see it directly, Bootles?” - -“Oh no; not for half an hour or more.” - -“What on earth did you do?” - -“Why, I looked at it of course. What would you have done?” - -“Did you _touch_ it?” - -Bootles laughed. “Yes, by Jove, the little beggar came to me like a -bird.” - -“Great gods!” uttered Miles, “and you can doubt the fatherliness of -_that_!” - -“Oh, what an ass you are!” returned Hartog; then, as if by a bright -inspiration, suggested, “I say, let’s go and have a look at it.” - -Thereupon the assembled officers, five of them, trooped along the way -Bootles had stumbled over alone in the blindness of his now forgotten -headache. The baby was still in the cot, contentedly playing with the -watch and chain, and at the sight of the five resplendent figures it set -up a loud “Boo—boo—boo—ing,” followed by a “Chucka—chucka—chucka—ing.” -Evidently it considered this was the land of Goshen. - -“Seems to take after its mother in its love for a scarlet jacket,” -remarked Miles, sententiously. “I’ve heard that the child is father of -the man—seems of the woman too.” - -“Bootles,” said Lacy, gravely, “isn’t it very pwretty?” - -“Yes, poor little beggar.” - -“Let’s see you nurse it,” cried Hartog. - -So Bootles, proud of this new accomplishment, lifted the child awkwardly -in his arms, pretty much as he might have done if it had been a sackful -of eggs, and he had made a wager he wouldn’t break one of them. He -carried it to the fire. - - [Picture: Let’s go and have a look at it] - -“Just light the candles, one of you,” he said. - -“It’s the image of Bootles,” persisted Miles. - -“Well, it isn’t mine, except by deed of gift,” returned Bootles, with a -laugh. - -“Bootles,” said Lacy, “look back over your past life—” Here he made a -pause. - -“Well?” said Bootles, expectantly. - -“Twry to think if you can twrace any likeness to some early love, who may -have marwried—or, for that matter, _not_ have marwried—some one else, -and—er—wremembering your kind heart—for you have a dashed kind heart, -Bootles, there’s no denying it—may have found herself hard up or too much -encumbered—for—er—you know, a babay is sometimes an awkward addition to a -lady’s belongings—and may have twrusted to your—er—general—well, shall we -say softness of chawracter to see it well pwrovided for—er—see?” - -“No, I don’t. Of course I see what you mean, but I can’t—” - -“Well—er—” Lacy broke in, “I—er—pewraps was not thinking so much of -_your_ case as of my own. You see,” appealing to the other three, “the -advent of this—er—babay cwreates a precedent, and—er—if it should chance -to occur to my first love—it would be awkward—for me, very awkward. Her -name,” plunging headlong into a story they all knew, “was Naomi, -and—er—she—er—in fact, jilted me for an elephantine parson, whose -reverend name was—er—Fligg, Solomon Fligg. Now, if Mrs.—er—Solomon Fligg -was to take it into her head to pack up the—er—eleven little Fliggs and -send ’em to me—it would be what I should call awkward—devilish awkward.” -Lacy’s four hearers positively roared, and the baby on Bootles’s knee -chuckled and crowed with delight. - -“I believe it understands,” Preston laughed. - -“No. But it seems a jolly little chap,” answered Bootles. “Oh, I -forgot, ’tis a girl. I say, I do wish you fellows would advise me what -to do. How can I get any one to attend to it?” - -“Oh, roll it up in the bedclothes and sleep on the sofa. It will go to -sleep when it’s tired,” said one. - -“With its clothes on?” said Bootles, doubtfully. “I rather fancy they -undress babies when they put ’em to bed.” - -“I don’t advise you to try. Oh, it won’t hurt for to-night.” - - [Picture: Bootles, proud of his new accomplishment, lifted the child - awkwardly in his arms] - -“There’s a cab just driven up. I believe it’s the Grays. I saw them go -out dressed before dinner,” said Hartog. The Grays were the adjutant and -his wife, who lived in barracks. “She would help you in a minute.” - -“Oh, go and see; there’s a good chap,” Bootles cried, eagerly. - -Hartog therefore went out. He found that it was the adjutant with his -wife returning from a party, and to the lady he addressed himself. “Oh, -Mrs. Gray, Bootles is in such trouble—” he began. - -“In trouble?—Bootles?—Captain Ferrers?” she said. “What is the matter?” - -“Well, he’s got a baby,” Hartog answered. - -“Got WHAT?” Mrs. Gray cried. - -“A baby. It’s been left in his rooms, clothes and all, and Bootles don’t -know what the de—, what in the world, I mean, to do with it.” - -“Shall I go in and see it?” Mrs. Gray asked. - -“I wish you would. Some of the others are there.” - -Well, eventually Mrs. Gray carried off the little stranger to her own -quarters, and put it to bed. As for Bootles, he too went to bed, but -during the whole of that blessed night he never slept a wink. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -WHEN Bootles showed his face in the mess-room the following morning he -was greeted by such a volley of chaff as would have driven a more nervous -man, or one less of a favorite than himself, to despair. Already the -story had gone the round of the barracks, and Bootles found the greater -part of his brother officers ready and willing to take Miles’s view of -the affair, whether in chaff or downright good earnest he could not say. - -“Halloo! Bootles, my man,” shouted one when he entered, “what’s this -story we hear? Is it possible that Bootles—our immaculate and -philanthropical Bootles— Oh, Bootles! Bootles! how are the mighty -fallen!” - -“Hey?” inquired Bootles, sweetly. - -“I wouldn’t have believed it of you, Bootles; I wouldn’t indeed. Any -other fellow in the regiment—that soft-headed Lacy grinning over there, -for instance—but _our Bootles_—” He broke off as if words could not -express the volumes he thought, but found his tongue and went on again -before Bootles could open his mouth. “Our Bootles with an unacknowledged -wife sworn not to disclose her marriage—our Bootles with a baby—our -Bootles a papa! Oh lor!” - -“Why didn’t you manage better, Bootles?” cried another. “You might have -sent her an odd fiver now and then. You have plenty.” - -“Is she pretty, Bootles?” asked a third. - -“Was there by any chance a flaw in the marriage?” inquired a fourth. - -“Do you think I’m a fool?” asked Bootles, pleasantly. “I tell you it’s a -plant. I know nothing about the creature.” - -“Just my view,” struck in Miles. “Just what I said last night. It’s -absurd, you know, to expect him to own it. No fellow would. Besides, -does Bootles look like the father of a fine bouncing baby that goes -‘Chucka, chucka, chuck?’ It’s absurd, you know.” - -Even Bootles joined in the laugh which followed, and Miles continued: - -“The only thing is—and it really is awkward for Bootles—the extraordinary -likeness. Blue eyes, golden hair, fair complexion. I should say -myself”—looking at his comrade critically, “that at the same age Bootles -was just such a baby as that which turned up so mysteriously last night.” - -“That’s as may be. Any way, the youngster is not mine,” said Bootles, -emphatically; “and what to do with the little beggar _I_ don’t know.” - -“Send it back to its mother,” suggested Dawson. - -“But I don’t know who the mother is,” Bootles answered, impatiently. - -“Oh no; so you say. Well, then, the brat must have growed, like Topsy. -If I were you I should send it to the police-station.” - -“The police-station? Oh no; hang it all, the poor little beggar has done -nothing to start the world in that way,” Bootles answered. - -“Did any of you,” asked Miles of the general company, “ever hear of a -chap called Solomon?” - -“I—er—did,” answered Lacy, promptly. “His other name was—er—Fligg. The -Reverend Solomon Fligg.” - -“Oh, we’ve all heard of _him_! but I meant a rather more celebrated -person. There is a story about him—I rather think it’s in -Proverbs”—eliciting a yell of laughter. “Not Proverbs? Well, perhaps -it’s in the Song of Solomon. It’s about two mothers, who each had a -baby, and one of them managed to smother hers in the night, and finding -it dead when she woke up in the morning, claimed the other baby. Of -course the other woman kicked up a row, a regular shindy, and they came -before Solomon to get the matter settled. ‘Both claim it,’ said he. -‘Oh, chop it in half, and let each have a share—’ But you all know the -rest. How the real mother gave up her claim sooner than see the child -halved. Now in this case, you see, Bootles hasn’t the heart to send the -child off to the police-station, as he would if—” - -“Here’s the colonel,” said some one at this point, and in less than two -seconds he appeared. - -“Why, Ferrers,” he said, “I’ve been hearing a queer tale about you.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Bootles, dismally; “and where it will end _I_ don’t -know! Here am I saddled—” - -“Well, of course you know whether the child has any claim upon you—” the -colonel began. - -“Upon my honor it has not, colonel,” said Bootles, earnestly. - -“Then that, of course, settles the question,” replied the colonel, with a -frown at the grinning faces along the table. “I should send the child to -the workhouse immediately.” - -“The workhouse?” repeated Bootles, reflectively. - -“I’ll bet any one a fiver he don’t,” murmured Miles to his neighbors. - -“Not he. Madame la Mère knew what she was doing when she picked out -Bootles. He’ll get one of the sergeants’ wives to look after it; see if -he don’t.” - -After the chief had left the room, Bootles continued his breakfast in -silence, considering the two suggestions for the disposal of the child. -Now, if the truth be told, Bootles had a horror of workhouses. He had -gone deeply into the “Casual” question, and pitied a tramp from the very -inmost recesses of his kind heart. It fairly made him sick to think of -that bonny golden head growing up among the shorn and unlovely locks of a -pauper brood—to think of the little soft fingers that had twined -themselves so confidently about his own, and had picked at the -embroideries of his mess waistcoat, being slapped by the matron, or set -as soon as they should be strong enough to do coarse and hard work, to -develop into the unnaturally widened and unkempt hand of a -“Marchioness”—to think of that little dainty thing being nourished on -skilly, or on whatever hard fare pauper children are fed—to think of that -little aristocrat being brought up among the children of thieves and -vagabonds! - -“Oh, confound it all,” he broke out, “I _can’t_.” - -“I never expected you could,” retorted Miles. “It wouldn’t be natural if -you did.” - -This time Bootles did not laugh; on the contrary, he looked up and -regarded Miles with a grave and searching gaze, rather disconcerting to -that quizzical young gentleman. - -“Are you judging me out of your own bushel?” he asked. - -“How? What do you mean?” Miles stammered. - -“Do _you_ happen to know anything of the matter?” Bootles persisted. - -“I? Oh no. On my honor I don’t.” - -“Ah! As the colonel said just now, that settles the question. You’re a -very witty fellow, Miles, very. I shouldn’t wonder, after a while, if -you ain’t quite the sharp man of the regiment. Only your jokes are like -the clown’s jokes at the circus—one gets to know them. They’re in this -kind of way: - -“‘Ever been in Paris, Mr. Lando?’ - -“‘Yes, of course, Bell.’ - -“‘Ever been in Vienna, Mr. Lando?’ - -“‘To be sure, Bell.’ - -“‘Ever been in Geneva, Mr. Lando?’ - -“‘Of course I have, Bell.’ - -“‘Ever been in jail, Mr. Lando?’ - -“Of course I have, Bell—at least—that’s to say—I mean—no, of course I -haven’t.’ - -“‘Why, Mr. Lando, I _saw_ you there.’ - -“‘You saw me in jail, Bell? And what were you doing to see me?’ - -“Oh!’ grandly, ‘I was staying with the governor for the good of my -’ealth.’ - -“‘And hadn’t stealing a cow something to do with it, eh, Bell?’ - -“‘Yah. Who stole a watch?’ - -“‘A Jersey cow, eh, Bell?’ - -“Yah. What time is it, Mr. Lando?’ - -“‘Just about milking time, Bell, my friend.’ - -“It’s all very funny once, you know, Miles,” Bootles ended, disdainfully. -“But when you’ve been to the circus half a dozen times you don’t see -anything to laugh at, somehow.” - -For grace’s sake Miles was obliged to laugh, for every one else roared, -except Bootles, who went on speaking very gravely: - -“I know it’s very amusing to make a joke of the affair, to say I know -more about it than I will confess. I have told the colonel _on my honor_ -that the child is not mine, nor do I know whose it is. If it were mine I -should not have made the story public property—it’s not in reason that I -should. My difficulty is what to do with it. The colonel suggests the -workhouse, Dawson the police-station—one simply means the other, and I -can’t bring me to do it. It is an awful thing for the child of a tramp -or a thief to be reared in a workhouse—and this is no common person’s -child. For anything I know it may belong to one of you.” - -“That’s true enough,” observed a man who had not yet taken part in the -discussion, except to laugh now and then. “But remember, Bootles, if you -saddle yourself with the child you will have to go on with it. It will -stick to you like a burr, and though we are all ready to accept your word -of honor, the world may not be so. If you put the brat out to nurse in -the regiment, the story may crop up years hence, just when you least -desire or expect it; and, you know, a story—mixed and confused by time -and repetition—about a deserted wife may come to have a very ugly sound -about it. Now if, as the colonel suggests, you send the child to the -workhouse, you wash your hands of the whole business. Then, again, if -the brat is brought up in the regiment, with the _disadvantage_ of your -protection, what will she be in twenty years’ time? Neither fish, flesh, -nor good red herring. Far better the oblivion of pauperism than the -distinction among the men of being Captain Ferrers’s—shall we say -_protégée_?” - -“Yes, there’s a great deal in that,” Bootles admitted. He had at all -times a great respect for Harkness, and profound faith in the soundness -of his judgment. He saw at once that any plan of bringing the child up -among the married people of the regiment would not do, and yet—_the -workhouse_. - -He rose from the table and settled his forage cap upon his head. “I dare -say you fellows will laugh at me,” he said, almost desperately, as he -pulled the chin-strap over his mustache, “but I can’t condemn that -helpless thing to the workhouse—I _can’t_, and that’s all about it. It -seems to me,” he went on, rubbing the end of his whip on the back of a -chair, and looking at no one—“it seems to me that the child’s future in -this world and the next depends upon the course I take now. And you may -laugh at me—I dare say you will,” he said, quite nervously for him—“but I -shall get a proper nurse to take charge of it, and I shall keep it myself -until some one turns up to claim it—or—or for good.” - - [Picture: “I can’t condemn that helpless thing to the workhouse”] - -Just then officers’-call sounded, and Bootles made a clean bolt of it, -leaving his brother officers staring amazedly at one another. The first -of them to make a move was Lacy—the first, too, to speak. - -“Upon my soul,” said he, “Bootles is a devilish fine fellow; and, d— it -all,” he added, getting very red, and scarcely drawling, in his intense -rage of admiration, “if there were a few more fellows in the world like -him, it would be a vewry diffewrent place to what it is.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -AS soon as Bootles had a spare moment he made his way to the adjutant’s -quarters, where he found Mrs. Gray playing with the mysterious baby. - -“Oh, is that you, Captain Ferrers?” she exclaimed. “Come and see your -waif. She is the dearest little thing. Why, I do believe she knows -you.” - -Bootles whistled to the child, which promptly made a grab at his chain, -and when he sat down on the sofa on which it was sprawling, tried very -hard to get at the gold badge on his collar. Shoulder badges had not -then come in. - -“Mrs. Gray,” Bootles said, “she’s very well dressed, is she not?” - -“Oh, very,” Mrs. Gray answered, smoothing out the child’s skirt so as to -display the fine and deep embroidery. “Unusually so. All its clothes -are of the finest and most expensive description.” - -“I thought so; it doesn’t look like a common child, eh?” - -“Not at all,” replied the lady, promptly. - - [Picture: Mignon’s Own–Illustration] - -“Well,” Bootles told her, “I’ve been most unmercifully chaffed, which was -only to be expected; but the colonel takes my word about it, and of -course the others don’t matter. I can’t think, though, why the mother -has chosen me.” - -“All, well, you see, Captain Ferrers,” said the adjutant’s wife, with a -smile, “it is rather inconvenient sometimes to have a character for great -kindness of heart. I should say you are the greatest favorite in the -regiment, and, naturally enough, the officers speak of it sometimes in -society. ‘Oh, Bootles is this, and Bootles is that;’ ‘Bootles wouldn’t -turn a dog from his door;’ ‘Bootles would share his last sixpence with a -poor chap who was down,’ and so on. _I_ have heard, Captain Ferrers, of -your emptying your pockets to divide among three poor tramps who had -begged no more than a pipe of tobacco. _I_ have heard of your standing -up for”—with a deeper smile—“the poor devils of casuals; and if I hear -it, why not others? why not the mother of this child?” - -“True. But I think you all overrate my character,” Bootles replied, -modestly. “You know I don’t go in for being saintly at all.” - -“That is just it. If you did you would have no more influence than Major -Allardyce, whom every one laughs at. But you don’t; you are one of -themselves, and yet you will always help a man who is down; you will do -any unfortunate creature a good turn. Oh, I hear a good deal, though you -choose to make light of it. And you know, Captain Ferrers, we are not -told that the good Samaritan made a great spluttering about what he did; -but the professional saints, the priest and the Levite, passed by on the -other side.” - -“You are very complimentary,” Bootles said, blushing a little; “much more -than I deserve, I’m sure. The fellows”—laughing at the remembrance—“were -much less merciful. Then about the child. Dawson suggests sending it to -the police-station, the colonel to the workhouse; and one means the -other, of course.” - -Mrs. Gray caught the child to her breast with a cry of dismay, and -Bootles went on: - -“Yes, I feel as you do about it. I can’t do it, and that’s all about it. -It would be on my conscience all my life. Besides, some day the mother -might come back for it, and though of course, as the colonel says, there -is no claim upon me, yet, if for the sake of a few pounds I had turned -the poor little beggar adrift, ruined its life—why I simply couldn’t face -her, and that’s all about it. And besides that, Mrs. Gray, I have a -lurking suspicion that the letter is genuine, and that it was not written -to or intended for me. It reads to me like the letter of a woman who was -desperate.” - -“Yes, a woman must have been desperate indeed to willingly part with such -a child as that,” said Mrs. Gray, smoothing the gold baby curls. - -“So I think, for nature is nature all the world over,” Bootles answered. -“And besides, to tell you the honest truth, there is a resemblance in the -child to some one I knew once—” - -“Yes?” eagerly. - -“Oh no, not that! She is dead. She was engaged to a fellow I knew, -desperately fond of him, and he—jilted her.” - -“Mr. Kerr?” - -Bootles stared. “Who told you?” - -“He told me himself, I think to ease his mind,” she answered, quietly. - -“Ah! Well, it killed her. She died heart-broken. I saw her,” he said, -rising and going to the window, whence he stood staring out over the -square, “a few hours after she died. That child’s mother may look like -that now, and I can’t and won’t turn it adrift, whatever the fellows or -any one else chooses to think or say, and that’s all about it.” - -Two bright tears gathered in Mrs. Gray’s eyes, and falling, fell upon the -baby’s curls of gold, two priceless diamonds from the unfathomable and -exhaustless mines of pity. For a moment or two there was silence, broken -at last by the child’s laugh, as a ray of sickly winter sunshine fell -upon the glittering chain in its little hands. The sound recovered -Bootles, who turned from the window. - -“And so, Mrs. Gray,” he said, carefully avoiding the gaze of her wet -eyes, “I have determined to keep the little beggar; but Harkness, who’s -no fool, you know, has convinced me that it won’t do to trust to any of -the barrack women to look after her. Therefore, if you won’t mind -undertaking it for a few days, I will advertise for a respectable elderly -nurse to take entire charge of the creature. I dare say I can arrange -with Smithers for an extra room, and you’ll let me come to you for advice -now and then, won’t you?” - -Mrs. Gray rose and went close to him, laying her hand upon his arm. -“Captain Ferrers,” she said, earnestly, “you will have your reward. God -will bless you for this.” - - [Picture: Mrs. Gray rose and went close to him, laying her hand upon his - arm] - -“Oh, please don’t, Mrs. Gray,” Bootles stammered. “Really I’d rather -you’d chaff me.” - -Mrs. Gray laughed outright. “Well, you know what my sentiments are, so -for the future I will chaff you unmercifully.—Come in,” she added, in a -louder tone, as a “tap-tap” sounded on the door. - -The permission was followed by the entrance of Lacy, who came in with a -pleasant “Good—er—morning,” and a soft laugh at the sight of the baby on -the sofa. - -“I—er—thought old Bootles would be here,” he explained. “And -besides—I—er—wanted to see the babay. Seems to me, Bootles,” he added, -staring with an absurd air of reflective wisdom at the infant, “as if the -face is somehow familiar to me. Oh, I don’t mean you. It isn’t a bit -like you. But there is a likeness, though I don’t know where to plant -it.” - -“Perhaps it will grow,” suggested Bootles. - -“Ah! pewraps it will, and pewraps it won’t. The worst of the affair is -that it is cwreating a pwrecedent”—not for worlds would he have admitted -to his friend that he thought him the fine fellow he had declared him in -the mess-room that morning—“and if we are _all_ inundated with babays I -wreally don’t know” (plaintively) “what the wregiment will come to.” - -“Gar—ah—gar—ah!” chuckled the subject of this speech over the gold knob -at the top of Lacy’s whip. “Cluck—cluck—cluck!” - -“Little beggah seems to find it a good joke, any way,” Lacy cried. “I’m -a gwreat hand at nursing. Our adjutant’s wife in the White Dwragoons had -thwree—all at once. I say, Mrs. Gwray, stick something on it, and I’ll -take it out and show it wround.” - -“Dare you?” she asked. - -“Dawre I? Just twry. By-the-bye, it’s cold this morning—vewry cold.” - -Mrs. Gray therefore fetched the child’s white coat and cap and those -other white woollen articles, which Bootles now discovered to be -leggings, and quickly transformed the little woman into a sort of -snowball. The two men watched the operation with intense interest. - -“_La figlia del wreggimento_,” laughed Lacy. “I declare, Bootles, she’s -quite a credit to us. I never saw such a _petite mademoiselle_.” - -Bootles started. It reminded him who had been jilted by his friend and -died for love. He had always called her Mademoiselle Mignon. - -“Mademoiselle Mignon,” he said, carelessly; “not a bad name for her.” - -“Vewry good,” returned Lacy, preparing to present arms. - -He proved himself a much better nurse than Bootles. He gathered the -child on his left arm and marched off to the anteroom, in front of which -the officers were standing about, waiting for church. They set up a -shout at the sight of him, and crowded round to inspect the new -importation. Mademoiselle Mignon bore the inspection calmly, conscious -perhaps—as she was such a knowing little person—of the effect of her big, -blue, star-like eyes under the white fur of her cap. - -“What a pity she ain’t twenty years older!” was the first comment, and it -was said in such a tone of genuine regret that all the fellows laughed -again. Miss Mignon gobbled with satisfaction. - -“Seems a jolly little beggar,” said another. - -“Chut—chut—chut!” remarked Miss Mignon. - -“Never saw such a jolly little beggar in all my life,” asserted another -voice. - -“Pretty work she’ll make in the regiment sixteen or seventeen years -hence,” grumbled old Garnet. - -“Ah, well, nevah mind, Garnet—nevah you mind, Major Garnet, sir,” cried -Hartog, “we shall all be dead by then;” but this being an exceedingly old -and threadbare regimental joke was instantly snubbed in the face of the -new and substantial one. - -“Has it any teeth?” demanded Miles, the orderly officer for the day. - -“Don’t know. Open your mouth, little one,” said Lacy, gravely. - -At this point Miss Mignon made a delighted lunge in the direction of the -belt across Miles’s breast. Lacy shouted, “Whoa, whoa,” and Miles -immediately backed out of reach. Miss Mignon’s mouth went dismally down, -until Lacy remembered the knob of his whip, and held it up for -delectation. - -“Boo—boo!” she crowed. - -“By Jove! She can half say Bootles already,” ejaculated Hartog. “And -here he comes.” - -“Now, then,” Bootles called out, “have any of you fellows made up your -mind to own this little baggage?” - -“No; none of us,” they laughed; but one man, Gilchrist by name, said, -with a sneer, he should rather think not, and added two unnecessary -words—“_workhouse brat_!” - -Bootles turned, and looked down upon him in profoundest contempt. - -“My dear chap,” he said, coolly, “to charge _you_ with being the father -of _that_ child,” pointing with his whip to the picture in Lacy’s arms, -“would be a compliment on your personal appearance which I should never, -under any circumstances, have dreamed of paying you.” - -“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Hartog afterwards to Lacy, “Bootles is a -dashed good fellow—one of the best fellows in the world. I don’t know -that there’s another I’d trust as far or as thoroughly; but all the same, -Bootles is sometimes best left alone, and, for my part, I think Gilchrist -and every one else had best leave him alone about this youngster.” - -“Ya—as,” returned Lacy; then began to laugh. “Oh! but it was fine, -though, about ‘personal appearance.’” And then he added, “Ugly little -beast!” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -IT was not to be expected, and Bootles did not expect it, that the story -of the mysterious little stranger could be confined to barracks. In -fact, in the course of a few hours it had flown all over the town, -gaining additions and alterations by the frequency of its repetition, -until at last Bootles himself could hardly recognize it. A baby had been -found in Captain Ferrers’s rooms; no one knew where it had come from nor -to whom it belonged. Then—Captain Ferrers had rescued a young baby from -a brutal father who was going to dash its brains out against the -door-post. Then—Captain Ferrers had picked up a new-born infant while -hunting with the duke’s hounds. Then—Captain Ferrers was suffering from -mental aberration, or, to speak plainly, was getting a bit cracked, and -had adopted a child a year old out of Idleminster workhouse. Then—It was -really most romantic, but Captain Ferrers had been engaged to and jilted -by a young lady long ago—which, of course, accounted for his being -impervious to the fascinations of the Idleminster girls—who had married, -been deserted by her husband, and now died—some versions of the story -said “committed suicide”—leaving him the charge of a baby, etc. - -Some people told one version of the story and some people told another, -but nobody blamed Bootles very much. It might be because he was so rich -and so handsome and pleasant; it might be because Idleminster society was -free from that leaven of censoriousness which causes most people to look -at most things from the worst possible view. - -But Bootles went on his serene way, telling the true state of the case to -every one who mentioned the affair to him, and always ending, “And hang -it, you know, it’s a pretty little beggar, and I _couldn’t_ send it to -the workhouse.” - -He made no secret about it at all, and on the Saturday following the -advent of the child an advertisement appeared in the Idleminster -_Chronicle_ which made Idleminster tongues clack for a week: - - “_Wanted_, _immediately_, _a highly respectable and thoroughly - experienced nurse of middle age_, _to __take the entire charge of a - child about a year old_. _Good wages to a suitable person_. _Apply - to Captain Ferrers_, _Scarlet Lancers_.” - -In due time this advertisement produced the right sort of person, and a -staid and respectable widow of about fifty was soon installed in a room -next to Mr. Gray’s quarters, in charge of Miss Mignon, as the child had -already come to be called by everybody. - -It was a charming child—strong and healthy, seemed to have no trouble -with temper or teeth, hardly ever cried, and might be seen morning and -afternoon being wheeled by its nurse in a baby-carriage about the barrack -square or along the road outside the Broad Arrow boundaries. And so, as -the weeks rolled by and wore into months, it began to toddle about, and -could say “Bootles” as plain as a pike-staff. - -In April the Scarlet Lancers were moved from Idleminster to Blankhampton, -where Bootles had to undergo a new experience, for every one there took -him for a widower on account of the child. - -Bootles would explain. “Take her about with me? Yes; she likes it. -Always wants to go when she sees the trap. A bother? Not a bit of it; -the jolliest little woman in creation, and as good as gold. What am I -going to do with her when she grows up? Well, Lacy says he is going to -marry her. If he don’t, somebody else will—no fear.” - -Taking it all round, Miss Mignon had a remarkably good time of it, and -seemed thoroughly to appreciate the pleasant places in which her lines -had fallen. It was wonderful, too, what an immense favorite she was with -“the fellows.” At first she had been “Bootles’s brat,” but very soon -that was dropped, and by the time she could toddle, which she did in very -good time, no one thought of mentioning her or of speaking to her except -as “Miss Mignon.” Scarcely any of the officers dreamed for a moment of -returning after a few days’ leave without “taking along,” as the -Americans say, a box of sweets or a bundle of toys for Miss Mignon. -Indeed the young lady came to have such a collection that after a while -Mrs. Nurse’s patient soul arose, and with Captain Ferrers’s permission -all the discarded ones were distributed among the less fortunate children -of the regiment. - -But Miss Mignon’s favorite plaything was Bootles himself—after Bootles, -Lacy. People said it was wonderful, the depth of the affection between -the big soldier of thirty-five and the little dot of a child, scarcely -two. Bootles she adored, and where Bootles was she would be, if by hook -or by crook she could convey her small person into his presence. Once -she spied him turn in at the gates on the right hand of the colonel, when -the regiment was returning from a field-day, and escaping from her -nurse’s hand, set off as hard as she could run in the direction of the -band, which immediately preceded the commanding officer. Mrs. Nurse gave -chase, but alas! Mrs. Nurse was stout, and had the ill luck, moreover, to -come a cropper over a drain tile lying conveniently in her way, while the -child, unconscious of danger, ran straight for Bootles. Neither Bootles -nor Lacy, who was on the colonel’s left, perceived her until she was -close upon them, waving her small hands, and shouting, in her shrill and -joyous child’s voice, “Bootles! Bootles!” - -It seemed to Bootles, as be looked past the colonel, that the child was -almost under the hoofs of Lacy’s charger. “Lacy!” he called out—“Lacy!” -But Lacy was already on the ground, and caught Miss Mignon out of harm’s -way; but when he turned round he saw that his friend’s face was as white -as chalk. - - [Picture: But Lacy was already on the ground, and caught Miss Mignon out - of harm’s way] - -As for the colonel, when he saw Mrs. Nurse gathering herself up with -rueful looks at the drain tile, he simply roared, and Miss Mignon chimed -in as if it were the finest joke in the world. - -“That was a smash,” she remarked, from her proud position on Lacy’s -shoulder, “just like Humpty Dumpty”—a comment which gave that estimable -person the name of Mrs. Humpty Dumpty as long as she remained with the -regiment. - -A few weeks after this the annual inspection came off, and Miss Mignon, -resenting the lengthened absence of her Bootles, again managed to escape -from her nurse, and pattered boldly, as fast as her small feet would -carry her, right into the mess-room, where Bootles was sitting, just -opposite the general, at the late lunch. Miss Mignon not seeing him at -first, wandered coolly behind the row of scarlet-clad backs, until she -spied him at the other side of the table. Then, having no awe whatever -of inspecting officers, she wedged herself in between his chair and the -colonel’s with a triumphant and joyous laugh. - -The general gave a great start, and the colonel laughed. Bootles, in -dismay, jumped up, and came quickly round the table to take her away. - -“Well, you little rogue,” said the colonel, reaching a nectarine for her. -“What do you want?” - -“I wanted Bootles, sir,” said Miss Mignon, confidentially. “And nurse -falled asleep, so I tooked French leave.” Almost the only peculiarity in -her speech was the habit of making all verbs regular. - -“And who are you, my little maid?” the general asked, in extreme -amusement. - -“Oh, I’m Miss Mignon,” with dignity. - -The old general fairly chuckled with delight, and as he had put his arm -round the child, Bootles, who was standing behind, could not very well -take her away. - -“Oh, Miss Mignon—hey? And whom do you belong to?” - -“Why, to Bootles,” in surprise at his ignorance. - -“To Bootles? And who is Bootles?” - -“Bootles is Bootles, and I love him,” Miss Mignon replied, as if that -settled everything. - -“Happy Bootles!” cried the old soldier. - -“What a lot of medals you’ve got!” cried Miss Mignon, pressing closer. - -“I’m afraid, sir, she is troubling you,” Bootles interposed at this -point, but secretly delighted with the turn affairs had taken. - - [Picture: “What a lot of medals you’ve got!”] - -“No, no; let her see my medals,” replied the general, who was as proud of -his medals as Bootles of Miss Mignon. - -“Are you a ‘sir’ too?” Miss Mignon asked, gazing at the handsome old man -with more respect. - -“What does she mean?” he cried. - -Bootles laughed. - -“Well, sir, she hears us speak to the colonel so, that is all.” - -“Dear me! What a remarkably intelligent and attractive child!” exclaimed -the general, quietly. “How old is she?” - -“About two, sir.” - -Now it happened that the old general had a craze for absolute accuracy, -and he caught Bootles up with pleasant sharpness. - -“Oh! Does that mean more or less?” - -“I can’t say, sir. She is about two. I do not know the date of her -birth.” - -“Then she is not yours?” - -“I am not her father, sir, but at present she belongs to me,” Bootles -said, smiling. “I’m afraid—” - -“Not at all, but perhaps she had better go. What a charming child!” -This last was perhaps because Miss Mignon, finding her time had come—and -she never made a fuss on such occasions—put two soft arms round his neck, -and gave him such a genuine hug of friendship that the old man’s heart -was quite taken by storm. - -So Miss Mignon was carried off, looking back to the last over Bootles’s -shoulder, and waving her adieu to the handsome old man, who had such a -fascinating array of clasps and medals. - -“I didn’t quite understand—what relation is the child to him?” he asked -of the colonel. - -“None whatever. Ferrers found her late one night in his bed, with her -wardrobe, and a letter from the mother, written as if Ferrers was the -father. He, however, gave me his word of honor that he knew nothing -about it, and some of us think the whole affair was simply a plant, as he -is known to be a very kind-hearted fellow. Others, however, Ferrers -among them, think that note and child were intended for one of the -others. Nobody, however, would own to it, and Ferrers has kept the child -ever since—I don’t suppose he would part with her now for anything. I -wanted him to send her to the workhouse, but ’tis a jolly bright little -soul, and I am glad he did not.” - -“Then he is not married?” - -“Oh dear no. He pays a woman fifty pounds a year to look after her, and -all her meals go from the mess. In fact, he is bringing her up as if she -were his own; and the child adores him—simply adores him.” - -“I respect that man,” said the general, warmly. “It is an awful thing -for a child to be reared in a workhouse—awful.” - -“Yes; Bootles feels very strongly on the subject,” replied the colonel, -absently. - -By the time Bootles returned, the officers had risen from the table, and -he met the guests and the seniors just entering the anteroom. - -“I’ll shake hands with you, Captain Ferrers, if you please,” said the -general, cordially. “I agree with you that it is an awful thing for a -child to be brought up in a workhouse. It is a subject upon which I feel -very strongly—very strongly. A child reared as a pauper does not start -the world with a fair chance. I have met so often, in the course of my -military experience, with recruits bred in the Unions—I never knew one do -well. No; pauperism is ground into them, and they are never able to -shake it off.” - -“Well, sir, that is my opinion,” said Bootles, modestly. “I hope, -though, you won’t think my little maid is often so obtrusive as to-day. -She is really always very good.” - -“A charming little child,” replied the general, as if he meant it too, -and then he shook hands with Bootles again. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -THERE was only one blot in the sweetness and light of Miss Mignon’s baby -character, so far as the officers of the Scarlet Lancers were concerned. -Among them all there was only one whom she did not like. She had degrees -of love—Bootles ranked first, then Lacy, then two or three groups of -friends whom she liked best, better, and well; but she had no degrees of -dislike where she did not love. She hated, hated fiercely and furiously, -hated with all her baby heart and soul. There were several persons in -her small world whom she detested thus, absolutely declining to hold -communication or to accept overtures from them, however sweetly made; but -there was only one of the officers who came under this head, and he was -Gilchrist, the man who had dubbed her at first _workhouse brat_. Miss -Mignon could not endure him. When old enough to understand that a -certain box of sweeties had come from Mr. Gilchrist, she would drop it as -if it burned her fingers, draw down the corners of her mouth, and remark, -“Miss Mignon is very much obliged;” an observation which invariably sent -Bootles and Lacy off into fits of laughter, at which the little maid -would fly open-armed to him, and cry, “But Mignon _loves_ Bootles.” But -the fact remained the same, that Miss Mignon detested Gilchrist, who, -indeed, was not a favorite in the regiment. Nor, indeed, did Gilchrist -seem to like Miss Mignon any better, though he now and then brought his -offerings of toys and bonbons like the rest. In the face of Bootles’s -severe snub about the two odious words he had applied to her, he was -hardly such a simpleton as to further rouse or annoy the most popular man -in the regiment; yet if he could possibly cast a slur on Bootles or on -the child he did it. Never from his lips came the pet name “Miss -Mignon,” never did his black eyes rest on her without a sneer or a jibe; -if he could by any chance twist Bootles’s words into an admission that -the child was really his, he took care never to lose the opportunity. - -“Oh, come, now,” Preston cried one day, when he had been sneering at -Bootles and Lacy, who had just driven away with the child between them, -“Bootles is a right good sort—no mistake on that point. No sneaking -hypocrisy about him. It would be well for you and me if we were half as -fine chaps; but we are not, Gilchrist, and, what is more, we never shall -be.” - -“Oh no; but where is the mother of that brat?” - -“How should I know? or Bootles? I shouldn’t mind laying my life that -Bootles never did and never will cause her or any other woman to write -such a letter as came with the child that night. Jolly good thing for -this one if she was Bootles’s wife, instead of being tied up to the hound -who bound her to secrecy and deserted her. Perhaps she’s dead, poor -soul! Who knows?” - -“Perhaps she isn’t,” Gilchrist sneered. “Some people never die.” - -Good-natured and not very wise Preston stared at him, and Hartog looked -from behind his newspaper, aghast at the bitterness of his tone. - -“Good heavens, Gilchrist!” Preston cried, “are you _wanting_ somebody to -die?” - -Gilchrist tried to laugh, and succeeded very badly. He rose from his -chair, knocking a few scattered cigar ashes carefully off his braided -cuff. - -“Well, I confess I should not be sorry to see that prating brat of -Bootles’s out of the road. We should perhaps get at the truth then.” -And having delivered himself of this feeling speech, he went out, banging -the door after him. - -“Well, upon my soul!” exclaimed Preston. - -“Oh, the man’s got a tile loose in his upper story,” said Hartog, -decidedly. “No man in his senses would talk such miserable rot as that. -Always thought Gilchrist a crazy fool myself, but I’m sure of it now.” - -“And how he sticks to it Miss Mignon is Bootles’s own child—as if it -could be any good for him to say she isn’t if she is.” - -“No. I shall tell Bootles to keep an eye on Gilchrist. I say, what a -comfort it would be if he would only exchange! I suppose we can’t manage -to dazzle him with the delights of India, eh?” - -“Not very well. Besides, he lost ever so much seniority by coming to -us.” - -“No such luck. It’s queer, though, he should be so persistent about -Bootles and Miss Mignon. I suppose he wants to daub Bootles with some of -his own mud. Thinks if he only throws enough, some of it’s sure to -stick; and so it would with most men. Happily, however, it don’t in the -least matter what a little cad like Gilchrist chooses to say about a man -like Bootles—a jealous little beast.” - -Neither of them said any more about the matter, but Hartog took the -earliest opportunity of repeating to Bootles what “that ass Gilchrist” -had said about seeing that prating brat of Bootles’s out of the road, and -in consequence a kind of watch was set upon the child. Not that Bootles, -though he had a very poor opinion of Gilchrist and Gilchrist’s brains, -was afraid for a moment that he would give Miss Mignon poisoned bonbons, -or run off with her and drop her in the river; yet he did think it not -improbable that he might encourage an already dangerous spirit of -adventure, and of course be absolutely blameless if she could get -trampled by a horse’s cruel hoofs, or crushed by one of the many traps -going in and out of barracks. - -When Bootles had taken his first long leave after Miss Mignon’s coming, -he had left her at Idleminster in charge of her nurse; but when long -leave came round again, and she must have been about two and a half, he -decided to take her with him. One reason for this was certainly a fear -of any pranks Gilchrist might choose to play, another that Lacy was -taking his leave at the same time, and Bootles was afraid, in the absence -of both, Miss Mignon might fret herself into a fever. And, besides, he -had missed the child during a fortnight’s deer-stalking in Scotland that -autumn more than he would have liked to own. - -From Blankhampton, therefore, they went to his place, Ferrers Court, -where he was to entertain a rather large party for Christmas, with a -sister of his mother’s, and his only near relative, to do the honors for -him, and among his guests a Mrs. Smith, a widow, and sister to that dead -girl to whom he fancied a resemblance in Miss Mignon. However, at the -last moment, Mrs. Smith wrote to excuse herself. - -“I am very, very sorry,” she said, “but a very dear friend of mine, with -whom I spent two winters in Italy, has suddenly appeared, with a -travelling companion and two maids, to pay me a long-promised visit of at -least two months. She is a Russian countess—a widow like myself, and -wishes, I fancy, to improve her English, which she already speaks very -well. Of course I am dreadfully disappointed, but cannot help it.” - -Now it happened that Bootles had a very deep and great respect and liking -for Mrs. Smith, and not for all the widowed countesses in Russia was he -willing to upset his plans; therefore he wrote off at once to Mrs. Smith, -after a five minutes’ consultation with Lady Marion, to beg her to carry -out her original intentions, and bring Madame and her retinue “along.” -Would she telegraph her reply? - -Mrs. Smith did so, the reply being, Yes. Moreover, she supplemented the -telegram by a letter, in which she mentioned among other things that -Madame Gourbolska’s travelling companion must be treated in all ways as -an ordinary guest. - -So, at the time originally appointed for Mrs. Smith’s coming, the party -of six—three ladies and three maids—arrived. Bootles himself went to the -station to meet them. He found that Madame Gourbolska was young, not -more than thirty, of the plump and fair Russian type, quite fair enough -to hold her own beside Mrs. Smith, whom he regarded as the most beautiful -woman of his acquaintance. The third lady, Miss Grace, was fair also, -perhaps not so positively beautiful as either the English or the Russian -lady, but fair-haired, fair-skinned, with soft blue-gray eyes, intensely -blue in some lights, as Bootles noticed directly. Graceful she was to a -degree, and as he watched her move across the little station he thought -how wonderfully her name suited her. - -Mrs. Smith smiled at him as he helped her to mount to the top of the -omnibus. “Is not the likeness wonderful?” she said, with one of those -quick sighs with which we speak of our dead; and then she said, “Poor -Rosy.” - -Bootles turned and looked at Miss Grace again, his mind going back to -those dark days, past and gone now, when he and his best friend had been -estranged for honor’s sake; when he and this imperially beautiful woman -had stood side by side watching a young life die out; had together seen -the sacrifice of a heart, the martyr of love to man. - -“Yes, it is very great,” he said, briefly. - -That dead sister of Mrs. Smith had always been and would always be a -not-to-be-broken bond of union between them, for the widow knew how -gladly “that grand Bootles,” as she always called him, would have tried -to make up for the love she had lost, while to Bootles Mrs. Smith stood -out from the rest of womankind as the sister of the only woman he had -ever wished or asked to marry him. - -He helped Miss Grace up to the seat beside Mrs. Smith, and took his own -place beside the Russian lady, who entertained him very well during the -three miles’ drive between Eagles Station and Ferrers Court. - - [Picture: In another moment they had drawn up at the great gothic - door-way] - -“Oh, but what a paradise!” she cried, as the carriage turned into the -court-yard. - -“I am delighted that it pleases you,” he answered, glancing round to see -what effect his ancestral home had upon Miss Grace. - -“Lovely!” she murmured to Mrs. Smith. - -In another moment they had drawn up at the great Gothic door-way, and -immediately the figure of a little child dressed in white appeared on the -top of the broad steps, kissing her small hands in token of welcome. - -“Go in directly; you’ll get cold. Go in, I say,” Bootles called out. It -was, indeed, bitterly cold, and a few flakes of snow were falling. But -Miss Mignon had a budget of news for her Bootles, and was not to be done -out of telling it. - -“Lal has had a letter from home,” she piped out in her shrill voice. Lal -was her name for Lacy, and home meant Blankhampton Barracks. “And the -St. Bernard has gotted two puppies—beauties—and I’m to have one. Lal -says so. And Terry has broked his leg.” Terry was one of Bootles’s -grooms. “And Major Ally’s going to be married.” - -Bootles was so surprised that he forgot the cold and his order that Miss -Mignon should go in. - -“_What_!” he exclaimed, incredulously. - -Just then Lacy himself came to the top of the steps with open arms, so to -speak, and carried off Mrs. Smith into the house. Miss Mignon took -advantage of the opportunity to run down the steps just as Bootles helped -Madame Gourbolska to the ground. - -“I welcome you with much pleasure,” he said, cordially—“Miss Grace also,” -as he gave her his hand to jump the last step. “I am afraid you are -tired. You are very white.” - -“I am tired,” she said, in a low voice, not looking at him, but at the -child. - -“It is so bitterly cold. Don’t stand a moment. Mignon, _will_ you go -in?” - -Miss Mignon skipped up the steps, and the Russian lady caught her in her -arms. - -“Oh, you little angel! and what is your name?” - -“I’m Miss Mignon. You’re a very pretty lady,” returned Mignon, -critically. “I wanted to go to the station, but Bootles said it was too -cold, and Lal—” - -“Madame does not know what Bootles and Lal mean,” interrupted Bootles. - -“This is Bootles, and that’s Lal,” Miss Mignon informed her. “I’m Miss -Mignon, and I belong to Bootles.” - -“Oh, you belong to Bootles. I am sure he must be very proud of you,” -Madame answered. - -“I believe I’m a great bother to him,” Miss Mignon announced, in a -matter-of-fact tone. - -Bootles laughed. “Come to the fire, Madame,” he said. Then turning to -Miss Grace, “I’m sure you are very cold—you are as white as a ghost. I’m -sure,” addressing Lady Marion, “Aunt Marion, wine would be much better -than this tea.” - -“No, no; tea,” they cried—at least the two elder ladies, for Miss Grace -seemed to have no ears for any one but the child. - -“Won’t you speak to me?” she asked, presently, as Miss Mignon gravely -regarded her with her big blue eyes. - -Miss Mignon went close to her immediately. “Did Bootles let you drive?” -she asked, with interest. - -Miss Grace shook her head, and lifted Miss Mignon onto her knee. “I did -not ask him,” she said. - -“Oh!” Then, after a pause, “I al—ways do.” - -“But not a pair?” in surprise. - -Miss Mignon nodded. “When they’re not too fresh. Bootles would have -letted you, if you’d asked him.” - -“I will another time.” - -“Lacy,” said Bootles, suddenly, “is it true about Allardyce?” - -“Hartog says so. They say she—er—dwrinks like a duck.” - -“Pooh!” But Bootles laughed as if it was a great joke, and Mrs. Smith -begged to be enlightened. - -“Oh! don’t you remember Allardyce? He’s the great military teetotal -light.” - -“And—er—he wreally is an AWFUL duf-fah,” remarked Miss Mignon, in so -exact and so unconscious an imitation of Lacy’s drawl that her hearers -went off into fits of laughter, and Miss Grace, clasping her close to her -breast, bent, and kissed the luxuriant golden curls. - -“You’re crying,” said Miss Mignon, promptly, scanning Miss Grace’s face -with her big eyes. - -“No; but you made me laugh,” she said, hastily. - -“Some people do cry when they laugh,” Miss Mignon informed her. “Our -colonel does. Now Major Garnet always chokes, and then Bootles thumps -him. I don’t know what he’ll do,” she added, in a tone of deep concern, -“if he chokes while we are away.” - -“I never saw such an original little piece of mischief in my life,” cried -Mrs. Smith. “And how charmingly dressed—is she not, Madame? So sensible -of you to cover her up with that warm serge up to her throat and down to -her wrists. Who put you up to it?” - -“I fancy we evolved the idea among us. You see she runs in and out of my -rooms, her own, and Mrs. Gray’s, the adjutant’s wife, that is,” Bootles -answered. “And barrack corridors are not exactly hot-houses. Besides, -our doctor keeps his eye on her, and he blames the wrapping-up for her -never having a day’s illness.” - -“I believe in it,” asserted Mrs. Smith. - -“And I—oh! our married ladies tell me I am quite an authority on the -subject. I can tell you we get fearfully chaffed about her, Lacy and I.” - -“Why?” Miss Grace asked. - -“Well, because she goes about with us a good deal, and people seem to -find the situation difficult to understand.” He took it for granted that -she knew all about Miss Mignon, and she did not press the question -further. But half an hour later, when Mrs. Smith was thinking of -dressing, Miss Grace tapped at her door and entered. - -“Could you lend me a few black pins?” she asked. “Madame and I have both -forgotten them.” - -“Certainly, my dear—take the box.” - -But Miss Grace only took a few in the pink palm of her hand. - -“What a pretty child that is!” she said, carelessly. “Did the mother die -when it was born?” - -“Oh, my dear!” cried Mrs. Smith, “she is not Captain Ferrers’s child. No -relation whatever.” - -“No? Whose, then?” - -“Ah! That is a question.” Then she briefly told Miss Mignon’s history, -ending: “But he will never part with her now. He is so fond of her, and -she adores him.” - -“He is a fine fellow,” said Miss Grace, toying with the pins in her hand. - -“A fine fellow! He is a splendid character,” Mrs. Smith cried, warmly. -“I assure you I have studied that man—and I have known him for years—and -I _cannot_ find a fault in him. Years ago, when we were in great -trouble, my mother and I, at the time my sister died, oh, he _was_ so -good, so—well,” with a quick sigh, “I cannot explain it all, but he was -such a comfort to us, and she died, poor darling, under very painful -circumstances, especially for me. Oh, there are very few in the world -like him—not one in ten thousand. Take his action as regarded that dear -little child, for instance. His brother officers wanted him to send her -to the workhouse, but as he wrote to me, ‘Some day I may meet the mother, -and how should I face her?’” - -“Ah!” murmured Miss Grace, and Mrs. Smith went on. - -“It was no small undertaking for a man in his position, for he has not -left her to the entire care of servants—she is continually with him and -Mr. Lacy, who is also very fond of her. Do you know, he pays her nurse -fifty pounds a year. In fact, she is just as if she were really his own -child. But it is just like him.” - -“And they would have sent her to the workhouse?” - -“One or two of them—not Mr. Lacy, of course.” - -Miss Grace was silent for a few moments. Then she roused herself as from -a brown-study. - -“Well, I am detaining you, Mrs. Smith, and shall be late myself. Thank -you very much.” Then she went away, passing softly down the corridor, -and entered her room, locking the door behind her. But once in that safe -shelter she flung the pins on the table and dropped upon her knees, -burying her face in her hands, while the scalding tears forced their way -between her fingers, and the great sobs shook her frame. “‘Some day he -might meet the mother,’ she sobbed, ‘and how should he face her?’ Oh, my -child, my little child, how shall I face him? How shall I bear it? How -shall I live in the same house with him without falling on my knees and -blessing him for saving my little child from—God knows what?” - -[Picture: Lacy was occupied in making desperate love to the Russian lady] - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -A MONTH had passed, and the three ladies still remained at Ferrers Court, -though other visitors had come and gone, lots of them. Lacy was still -there also, and occupied in making desperate love to the Russian lady, -utterly ignoring two important facts—one that she only laughed at him, -the other that she was three years his senior. - -But while all this was going on, Bootles had fallen in love at last, as -men and women only fall once in their lives, and of course the lady was -Madame Gourbolska’s friend, Miss Grace—had he but known it, the mother of -Mignon. - -But Bootles never suspected that for a moment. True, there was a -likeness so strong as to proclaim the truth, and many a time Miss Grace -wondered, when she caught sight of the child’s face and her own in a -glass, that all these people did not see it. Yet neither Bootles nor any -one else did see it, and the game of love was played on with desperate -earnestness on his side, and with equally desperate desire to prevent it -on hers. - -But Bootles admired shy game, and Miss Grace’s evident shyness made him -only the more earnest; and not being troubled with that faint heart which -never won fair lady, he had no intention of allowing Madame Gourbolska to -depart from beneath his roof without asking Miss Grace to return to it as -its mistress. Therefore one afternoon, when he returned from hunting in -much bespattered pink, and went into the fire-lit library, where he found -Miss Grace half dreaming by the fire, he shut the door with the intention -of getting it over at once. Miss Grace rose with some signs of -confusion. - -“Don’t go for a minute,” said Bootles; “I want to speak to you. It seems -to me that you have grown very fond of my little Mignon. Is it not so?” - -Miss Grace caught at the carvings of the oaken chimney-shelf to steady -herself, and her heart began to beat hard and fast. - -“Yes, I am very fond of her,” she stammered. - -“I wish you would take her for your own,” Bootles said, very gently. - -“For—my own?” sharply. “What do you mean?” - -For a moment she thought he knew all, but his next words undeceived her. - -“If she had such a mother as you, poor little motherless waif, and if _I_ -had such a wife, and if Ferrers Court had such a mistress! Oh! don’t you -understand what I mean?” taking her hand. - -Miss Grace snatched the hand away. “Oh, don’t, _don’t_, DON’T!” she -said, turning away. - -But Bootles possessed himself of it again. “Must I tell you more? Oh, -my darling, how from the very first day I ever saw you I loved you with -all my heart and soul? How, when I bade you welcome to my house, I -could, and would if I had dared, have taken you up to my heart and kissed -you before every one? How—” - -“Oh, tell me nothing—nothing!” she cried, with feverish haste. “Don’t -you understand it cannot be? It is impossible—quite impossible.” - -“Impossible!” he echoed, blankly. “Why is it impossible? Not because -you don’t care, that I’ll swear.” - -She said nothing. - -“Or, if that is so, look at me and say I don’t love you.” - -But Miss Grace did not speak, nor yet did she look. - -“Or will you tell me that there is some one else whom you like better?” -he asked, regaining hope. - -No, Miss Grace did not seem inclined to vouchsafe that information -either. - -“Or that the care of the child would be an objection?” - -“_No_!” she burst out, in an agonized tone. - -“Then what do you mean by impossible?” he asked. “It seems to me very -possible indeed.” - -She looked at him—that proud, handsome, erect man, with a smile of -expectant happiness on his good face—and tried to take her hands away. - -“Oh!” she sobbed out, “don’t you think I would if I could? I have not -been so happy that I would throw away such happiness as you could give -me. Some day you may know what it costs me to tell you that it is quite -impossible.” - -“You give me no hope?” he asked, in a dull voice, and she saw that he had -grown white to his very lips. - -“None,” she returned; then added, bitterly, “Oh, hope and I have had -nothing to say to one another this long, long while.” - -Bootles dropped her hand listlessly. “Then it is no use my boring you,” -he said, turning away. - - [Picture: Then with one imploring backward look she went away and left - him alone] - -A fierce denial rose to the girl’s lips, but she choked it down and -suffered his words in silence. Then meekly, and with one imploring -backward look at his tall figure as he stood, his head well up in spite -of his defeat, looking into the fire, she went away and left him alone. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -SO it was all over. This was the end of all his hopes and dreams and -wishes! This was the end! None of his bright hopes would ever be—none -of his golden dreams would come to pass. His wishes had no weight with -the woman he loved. He had looked forward—like a fool, he thought, -bitterly—and had pictured her in a dozen different ways: at the head of -his table, in the hunting-field, in the middle age, and in the decline of -life, as Mignon’s mother, as his wife. But it was all over now. When -Madame’s visit was over, she would go from under his roof, never to come -back to it any more, forever. - -He was still standing there when the door opened with some difficulty, -and Miss Mignon appeared on the threshold. - -“Bootles?” she said, inquiringly. - -Bootles turned round to her. “Well?” he answered. - -Miss Mignon heard the misery in his voice and ran to him. “Bootles got a -headache?” she asked. - - [Picture: He dropped into a chair and took her in his arms] - -He dropped into a chair and took her in his arms. “Such a headache, -Mignon.” - -Miss Mignon knew what Bootles’s headaches were, and drew his head down -upon her small shoulder with an air of protecting and comforting dignity, -equally pretty and absurd in one so young. - -“Mignon _loves_ Bootles,” she whispered. - -“Will Mignon always love Bootles?” he asked. - -“Always,” was the confident reply. “Mignon will _always_ love Bootles.” - -And so in and because of his trouble the little child crept closer and -closer into his heart, and drove out the greatest bitterness of his -disappointment, and the clasp of her soft arms about his neck seemed to -take away the sharpest sting of defeat. The touch of her baby lips upon -his aching forehead—and it _did_ ache—brought him a larger measure of -comfort than any living thing had power to do at that moment. - -If only he had known that Mignon was _her_ child! - -But Bootles was not the man to sulk with fate; if Miss Grace would not -have him, no more was to be said, and no one but Mrs. Smith saw anything -unusual between them. But trust Mrs. Smith. She walked into Miss -Grace’s room and taxed her with it—taxed her in so friendly a way that -the girl began to cry miserably. Mrs. Smith fumed. - -“It is absurd,” she cried, “to refuse such a man—such a -position—such—such— Oh! it’s absurd. I have no patience with you. You -will never have such a chance again—never.” - -“Oh, never,” she sobbed. - -“Why, then, throw it away? Let me go and tell—” - -“No; tell him nothing. I have already told him it is impossible. Oh, -Mrs. Smith!” she cried, passionately, “do you think any woman in her -senses would refuse him if she could help it? Not I, I assure you.” - -“It is inexplicable,” said Mrs. Smith, but she protested no further. - -So the next day they left Ferrers Court, Bootles driving them to the -station. But it was all very different now—very different, too, from the -last time he had driven them anywhere. There was no laughter, no joking, -no promise to come again. He was not outwardly angry, not harsh nor hard -in any way, but he was very polite; and politeness from him was -heart-breaking. - -It was soon over when they reached the station—a few minutes of that kind -of conversation which people make when they are waiting for a carriage or -a train, as they said the passengers of the _London_ made while walking -up and down quietly waiting for the end. There was a handshaking all -round, the lifting of Bootles’s and Lacy’s hats, a fuss over Miss Mignon, -and that was all. Miss Grace, on looking out of the carriage window with -tear-dimmed eyes, saw that they were together, the child’s hand in his. -Miss Mignon’s last words were yet ringing in her ears: “Bootles has -gotted such a headache.” - -“Then Mignon must be very kind to him,” Miss Grace whispered. - -Ay, Miss Mignon had need to be kind, for Bootles had “gotted” such a -heartache too! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -A CROWD of roughs, a lesser crowd of third-rate spectators, and a lesser -gathering of fashionable ones were assembled on the Blankhampton -racecourse, for it was the day of the Scarlet Lancer Steeple-chases. - -On the Grand Stand were to be seen most of the rank and fashion of the -neighborhood, and a goodly show of that class of people who are always to -be found about towns which are also military stations—the class of people -who have daughters to marry, and not much money to marry them with. - -There were all the Scarlet Lancer ladies in full force, from the -colonel’s wife in blue velvet and sables, to the quartermaster’s lady in -a hard felt hat, with long diamond and pearl ear-rings. There were -officers in cords and boots, their silken finery hidden by Newmarket -coats. And there was the bride, Mrs. Allardyce, in pink and gray, the -major’s racing colors—oh lor! as the fellows said when they saw her. And -there was Miss Mignon, a little three-year-old belle, got up in Bootles’s -colors—scarlet, purple, and gold—adapted in her small case to a warm -frock of purple velvet, braided with scarlet and gold, and on her golden -curls a jockey-cap to match it. Utterly absurd, most people said, but -Bootles didn’t seem to see it. Nor, for the matter of that, did Miss -Mignon herself. Held by Bootles, or, when Bootles was riding, by Lacy, -she sat on the broad ledge of the balcony and surveyed the world, like a -queen in miniature. - -It was a fine place for seeing; yes, and a fine place for hearing too, as -Lacy testified afterwards in his own peculiar style of delivery. - -“Er—I and Miss Mignon were waiting for Bootles to come down the lawn, -when—er—a laday next to us—er—a little unpwrepossessing person—I found -out afterwards that her name is Berwry—with a nose like a teapot-spout, -and a mouth of the bull-dog ordah—little daughter, by-the-bye, pretty -much of the same type, but just a shade less hideous—suddenly -electwrified us by pulling out a huge pair of gold eye-glasses, and -holding the wrace-card at arm’s-length. - -“‘Ow!’ said she, in a mincing voice, when Miles came down the lane -looking like a sack of flour in a purple satin jacket—‘Ow, CAP-tain -Ferwrahs! Ow, Dorothy, my deah, CAP-tain Ferwrahs! _Vewry_ handsome—and -how _beau_-tifully he wrides! Ow, I’m shaw he’ll win, and what a -_lovely_ horse! CAP-tain Ferwrahs! He’s vewry handsome.’ - -“Well—er—I gave Miss Mignon a gwreat squeeze to hold her tongue—and she -did. This Mrs.—er—Berwry went on expatiating on Miles’s great beauty of -person, and on the absolute certainty of his winning. ‘And his pet name -is Bootles,’ she informed us. His _pet_ name! Well, pwresently Bootles -came sailing down the lawn in all his glowry, and Miss Mignon quite -forgot the old girl, and shouted out to him. ‘Bootles,’ she -called—‘Bootles.’ - -“Bootles glanced up, and waved his hand, and—er—the old party called -Berwry turned wound and eyed her sharply, saw the scarlet, purple, and -gold of her dwress, looked at her card, and said, witheringly, ‘Ow, I -don’t know _him_,’ as if there were a dozen Captain Ferwers knocking -about, and this was one of the eleven she didn’t know. - -“Well, when the wrace was over—er—who should come up but Miles. - -“‘Ah, Miles,’ said I, ‘I—er—heard a laday expatiating just now on your -extrwreme beauty and gwrace and elegance of person—was shaw you’d win. -What a pity you didn’t!’ - -“‘Bless my soul!’ said Miles; ‘was she pretty?” - -“‘Oh, don’t be flattered; she took you for Bootles,’ said I, ignoring the -question. - -“‘Bootles’s money again!’ cwried Miles, with a gwreat wroar of laughter. - -“Well, in two twos up comes Bootles. ‘See me win, Mignon?’” said he. - -“So I—er—told him the stowry too, and Bootles laughed that absurd ‘Ha! -ha!’ of his. ‘Come along and have some lunch, Mignon, my sweetheart,’ -said he, ‘_and let’s be out of this_.’” - -But it was after this incident that the most important event of that -bright May day occurred—one of those fearful struggles to win, when half -a dozen horses show well for the post, and all the field finds tongue and -shouts its hardest. - -“Ferrers wins! Blue and fawn—yellow and black! Miles wins—Miles wins! -No, no; Ferrers in front—fawn and blue! Hartog—Hartog—Hartog wins! -Miles in front! Ah, he’s down! Ferrers—Miles—blue and fawn—Gilchrist -gains—Miles—Gilchrist—Ferrers wins—Ferrers wins! All up with the others! -Ferrers WINS!” - -And then the company, good, bad, and indifferent, had time to remember -that a man was down—no, not one man, but two. To find out that Hartog -was bruised and stunned, but able with help to get to the dressing-room -and recover himself, to learn that the swarming crowd around the other -was watching a more exciting race than that which they had just witnessed -with shouts and applause, that they were watching with awe and in silence -a race between life and death—for Gilchrist, the “odd” man of the -regiment, the man who had been nobody’s friend, nobody’s chum, was lying -in the midst of them with his back broken, waiting for a hurdle. - -They were all as sorry as men could be who had never been moved by -feelings of friendship. The proceedings were stopped at once, and they -went gravely back to barracks, those who had ridden, to get into -morning-clothes, and all of them to hang about waiting for news. - -But there was no hope, absolutely no hope whatever. With all his faults, -failings, and peculiarities, Gavor Gilchrist was passing away from their -midst by exchange, as Hartog had once wished—the exchange, not of one -regiment for another, but of this world for the next. - -[Picture: The swarming crowd round the other was watching a more exciting - race than that which they had just witnessed] - -It was about six o’clock that the senior of the two surgeons in -attendance on Gilchrist entered the anteroom, and, looking around, -beckoned for Bootles. - -“What news?” asked several voices. - -“He won’t last the night. Bootles, he wants you.” - -“I’ll come,” said Bootles, rising. - -“Sure to want Bootles,” observed Preston. - -“Oh yes; I should myself,” returned another. - -“Won’t last the night,” remarked a third. “Well, I never did like -Gilchrist—never; but, all the same, I’m deuced sorry for him now, poor -chap. For oh, by Jove! it’s a fearful thing when you come to that.” - -And then they fell into silence again, waiting for Bootles to come back. -Half an hour passed—three-quarters; then Bootles did not come. An hour; -then Bootles appeared—came with a white face and a scared look in his -blue eyes, followed by the doctor who had fetched him. Every man in the -room was roused from a lounging attitude to one of expectation and -surprise. - -“Bootles,” said Lacy, moving towards him. - -But Bootles did not even look at him. He turned to the doctor and -uttered words the like of which none of his hearers had ever heard from -him before. - -“I kept my temper, doctor—you think I did? I know the man’s dying. Yes, -I know, and I shouldn’t like to think I lost my temper with a poor chap -who was dying, but—but—No; I won’t say a word. I’ll go away and keep to -myself until I’ve got over it a little. If I stop here I shall say -something I shall be sorry for all the rest of my life.” - -“What is it, Bootles?” broke in Lacy, in his soft voice. - -But Bootles did not reply for a moment. He stood still, trying hard to -control himself; but Lacy, who had laid his hand upon his sleeve, felt -that he was shaking from head to foot, and his very lips were trembling. - -“Tell us,” said Lacy, persuasively. “What is it?” - -“He is Mignon’s father!” Bootles answered. And then he broke from Lacy’s -grasp and fled. - -“Impossible!” Lacy cried. - -“Not at all; it is true,” the doctor answered. “He is making his will -now, leaving Bootles sole guardian and trustee to the child.” - -“The brute,” burst out Preston, indignantly, remembering Gilchrist’s -words—not so long ago. - - [Picture: A race between life and death] - -“Hush, hush! The man is dying, and death alters everything,” the doctor -cried. - -“And Bootles kept his temper? Said nothing?” - -“Not one word—of reproach.” - -“Has he seen her?” - -“No. He would not, though Bootles asked him.” - -“His own child—and she Miss Mignon!” - -“All the better. She cannot endure him.” - -“By Jove! But what a blow for Bootles!” - -“How will he take it? Will it make any difference?” - -“As wregards Miss Mignon? What wrot you talk. As if Bootles—” But -there Lacy broke off in disgust, and the babel of surmises, questions, -and answers went on. - -And that night Gavor Gilchrist died. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -OH, but it was a blow for Bootles! To find he had been duped, tricked, -made a fool of all this time; to remember the anxiety, the trouble, the -expense to which he had been put; nay, to recall the chaff he had -endured, and then to discover that Miss Mignon was Gilchrist’s child—the -child of the man he went perhaps nearer to hating than any one he had -ever known in all his life! Everything came back to him then—the dead -man’s jibes and sneers and taunts, his unwearied efforts to tax him with -an offence which he knew he had not committed. And though he had failed -in that, oh, what a fool Gilchrist had made of him! That was the sting -Bootles felt most of anything. - -For hours after he left the anteroom Bootles kept out of every one’s -way—indeed until Lacy came to tell him that Gilchrist was dead. Then, it -being close upon the hour of eleven, he went and knocked at the door of -Mignon’s nursery. The nurse opened it a few inches, and seeing who it -was, set it open wide. - -“Is Miss Mignon asleep?” he asked. - -“Yes, sir; hours ago,” the woman answered. - -He passed into the inner room, where the child was lying. A candle -burned on a table beside the cot, casting its light on the fair baby -face, now flushed in sleep, and on the tangled golden curls. Both her -arms lay outside the eider coverlet, one hand grasping the whip with -which he had ridden and won that day, the other holding the card of the -races. Bootles bent and scanned her face closely, but not one trace -could he discern of likeness to the father—not one—and he drew a deep -breath of relief that it was so. - -Well he remembered Lacy’s puzzled scrutiny of the year-old baby. -“There’s a likeness, but I don’t know where to plant it.” If there had -been a likeness to Gilchrist then, it had now passed away; and as Bootles -satisfied himself that it was so, his love for her, which during the last -few hours had hung trembling in the balance, though he would hardly have -acknowledged it, even to himself, re-asserted itself, and rose up in his -heart stronger than ever. Just then she moved uneasily in her sleep. - -“Lal, where _is_ Bootles?” she asked. Then, after a pause, “Gotted -_another_ headache?” And an instant later, “Miss Grace said Mignon was -to be very kind to Bootles.” - -Bootles bent down and kissed her, and she awoke. - -“Bootles,” she said, in sleepy surprise; then, imperatively, “Take me -up.” - -So Bootles carried her to the fire in the adjoining room, where the nurse -was sewing a fresh frill of lace on the pretty velvet frock, with its -braidings of scarlet and gold, which she had worn that day. - -“Lal said Mignon wasn’t to go to Bootles,” she said, reproachfully. - -“Bootles has been bothered, Mignon,” he answered. - -“Poor Bootles!” stroking his cheek with her soft hand. “Bootles was -vexed; Lal said so. But not with Mignon. Mignon told Lal so,” -confidently. - -“Never with Mignon,” answered Bootles, resting his cheek against the -tossed golden curls, and feeling as if he had done this faithful baby -heart a moral injustice by his hours of anger and doubt. - -There was a moment of silence, broken by the nurse. “Have you heard, -sir, how Mr. Gilchrist is?” she asked. - -Bootles roused himself. “He is dead, nurse. Died half an hour ago.” - -“Then, if you please, sir,” she asked, hesitatingly, “might I ask if it -is true about Miss Mignon?” - -“Yes, it is true,” his face darkening. - -“Because, sir, Miss Mignon should have mourning,” she began, when Bootles -cut her short. - -“I shall not allow her to wear mourning for Mr. Gilchrist,” he said, -curtly; so the nurse dared say no more. - -Three days later the funeral took place; and if the facts of the dead -man’s having acknowledged Miss Mignon as his child, and having admitted -to Bootles that he had transferred her that night from his own quarters -to Bootles’s rooms, created a sensation, it was as nothing to the intense -surprise caused by the will, which was read, by the dead man’s desire, -before all the officers of the regiment. - -In it he left his entire property to his daughter, Mary Gilchrist, now in -the care of Captain Ferrers, and commonly known as Mignon, on condition -that Captain Ferrers consented to be her sole guardian and trustee until -she had attained the age of twenty-one, or until her marriage, provided -it should be with her guardian’s sanction, and on the express -understanding that Captain Ferrers should not give up the care of the -child to her mother, even temporarily. To his wife, Helen Gilchrist, a -copy of this testament was to be sent forthwith. Should any of the -conditions be violated, the whole property of which he died possessed -should go to his cousin, Lucian Gavor Gilchrist; but if the conditions be -faithfully observed Captain Ferrers should have the power of applying -any, or all, of the income arising from the estate for the use and -maintenance of the said Mary Gilchrist. - -“Cwrazy!” murmured Lacy to Bootles, who listened in contemptuous silence, -and wondered in no small dismay what kind of a life he should have if -Mignon’s mother chose to make herself objectionable. - -But the will was not crazy at all; far from it. It was only a very -cleverly thought-out plan for keeping mother and child apart. Bootles -would take care not to endanger Mignon’s inheritance, and Gilchrist had -taken advantage of it to carry out his animosity towards his wife to the -bitter end. - -But of course there was one contingency he had never thought of or -provided for—_marriage_. - -It was less than a week after Gilchrist’s death that Bootles received a -note by hand, signed Helen Gilchrist. - -“Already!” he groaned, impatiently. - -“May I trouble you to send the child to see me for half an hour during -this afternoon?” she said, and that was all. - -But Bootles did not see sending the child to be quietly stolen away. He -forgot quite that since Gilchrist had not left his widow a farthing she -would probably be now no better able to provide for the child than she -had been when compelled to cast her baby upon the father’s mercy. -Therefore, immediately after lunch, he drove down to the hotel from which -the note had been written. Yes; Mrs. Gilchrist was within—this way. And -then—then—Bootles, with the child fast holding his hand, was shown into a -room, and there they found—_Miss Grace_! - -The truth flashed into his mind instantly. She rose hurriedly, and he -saw that she was clad in black, but was not in widow’s dress. She fell -upon her knees and almost smothered Mignon with kisses. - -“Mignon! Mignon!” she cried. - -“Mignon has been very kind to Bootles,” Mignon explained, not knowing -whether to laugh or cry. - -“My Mignon! my baby!” the mother sobbed. Bootles watched them—the two -things he loved best on earth. - -“Have you nothing to say to me?” he asked at last. - -“What shall I say?” She had risen from her knees, and now moved shyly -away. - -“You might say,” said Bootles, severely, “that you are very sorry that -you, a married woman, deceived me and stole my heart away. You might say -that, for one thing.” - -“But I am not sorry,” cried Mignon’s mother, audaciously. - -“Then you might take a leaf out of Mignon’s book, and say, as she says -when I have a headache, ‘Mignon _loves_ Bootles.’” - - [Picture: Bootles watched them—the two things he loved best on earth] - -“I wreally do think,” remarked Lacy to the fellows, when the astounding -news had been told and freely discussed, “that now we must let that poor, -malicious, cwrooked-minded chap wrest in his gwrave in peace. Seems to -me,” he continued, with his most reflective air, “that—er—Solomon was -wright, and said a vewry wise thing, when he said, ‘Love laughs at -locksmiths.’” - -“Solomon!” cried a voice, amid a shout of laughter. - -“Oh, wasn’t it Solomon?” questioned Lacy, mildly. “It’s of no -consequence; some one said it. But only think of that poor devil -spending his last moments wraising a barwrier to keep mother and child -apart, and old Bootles fulfils all the conditions to the letter, and -bwreaks them all in the spirit by—marwriage!” - - * * * * * - - THE END. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIGNON *** - -***** This file should be named 64603-0.txt or 64603-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/6/0/64603/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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