Rachel had not been long in the room before she was seized on by Emily

Grey, an enthusiastic young lady of the St. Norbert's neighbourhood,

whom she met seldom, but was supposed to know intimately.

"And they say you have the hero here--the Victoria Cross man--and that

you know him. You must show him to me, and get me introduced."

"There is no Victoria Cross man here," said Rachel, coldly. "Colonel

Keith did not have one."

"Oh, no, I don't mean Colonel Keith, but Captain Alexander Keith, quite

a young man. Oh, I am sure you remember the story--you were quite wild

about it--of his carrying the lighted shell out of the hospital tent;

and they told me he was always over here, and his sister staying with

Lady Temple."

"I know Captain Alexander Keith," said Rachel, slowly; "but you must be

mistaken, I am certain I should know if he had a Victoria Cross."

"It is very odd; Charlie told me it was the same," said Miss Grey, who,

like all others, was forced to bend to Rachel's decisive manner.

"Scottish names are very common," said Rachel, and at that moment a

partner came and carried Emily off.

But as Rachel stood still, an odd misgiving seized her, a certain doubt

whether upon the tall lazy figure that was leaning against a wall nearly

opposite to her, talking to another officer, she did not see something

suspiciously bronze and eight-pointed that all did not wear. There was

clearly a medal, though with fewer clasps than some owned; but what else

was there? She thought of the lecture on heroism she had given to him,

and felt hot all over. Behold, he was skirting the line of chaperons,

and making his way towards their party. The thing grew more visible, and

she felt more disconcerted than ever had been her lot before; but escape

there was none, here he was shaking hands.

"You don't polk?" he said to her. "In fact, you regard all this as a

delusion of weak minds. Then, will you come and have some tea?"

Rachel took his arm, still bewildered, and when standing before him with

the tea-cup in her hand, she interrupted something he was saying, she

knew not what, with, "That is not the Victoria Cross?"

"Then it is, like all the rest, a delusion," he answered, in his usual

impassive manner.

"And gained," she continued, "by saving the lives of all those officers,

the very thing I told you about!"

"You told me that man was killed."

"Then it was not you!"

"Perhaps they picked up the pieces of the wrong one."

"But if you would only tell me how you gained it."

"By the pursuit of conchology."

"Then it was yourself?" again said Rachel, in her confusion.




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