i ' -
VOL. XV.
THE TIMES.
An Independent Family Newspaper,
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The Colonel's Early Love.
IT WAS just a cherub's face under a
forage cap which met Colonel Cother
e tone's angry gaze, as he eat bolt up
right in bis chair one Sunday afternoon.
A cherub's face, smooth and fair, which
had as yet not the faintest sign of a
mustache ; a face with languishing
azure eye that went -straight to Colonel
Cotherstone's heart, In spite of his anger
and the popular belief that he was in
the fortunate possession of a lump of ada
mant Instead of that too frequently in
convenient organ. The scene was the
Colonel's room in the cavalry barracks
at York ; the time between three and four
in the afternoon ; dramatis peraonre,
Colonel Edward le Gendre Cotherstone,
Sergeant Major McAllister, and Private
Edward Jones, F troop. It was private
Edward Jones who owned the cherub's
face,the languishing blue eyes, the long
lithe limbs, and, alas also a bad charac
ter. "Sergeant Major, you can go," said
Colonel Cotherstone curtly ; whereupon
that personage,havlng saluted, departed,
feeling pretty sure that Private Jones
was coming in for a severe wigging, or,
as he put it, "the Colonel's going to give
it 'im proper."
But Colonel Cotherstone did not im
mediately set about the task which he
had imposed upon himself. An obstacle
not very often coming between com
manding officers and their troopers,
presented itself in the shape of that
dainty cherub face, with the fair waving
hair and the languishing azure eyes, so
like another face that he had known
long ago and loved 1 At last, however,
he forced himself to speak.
"And how long is this state of things
to continue t" he demanded Bternly.
Private Jones maintained a discrete
silence, but he shifted his long legs ner
vously and lowered his eyes until the
colonel could no longer see them. Once
their gaze withdrawn from him he was
able to speak fluently enough. Usually
Colonel Cotherstone did not find himself
at a loss for words.
"Now, look here, Jones," he said
kindly, yet with sufficient firmness to
make his words Impressive, "we must
have a change. Almost every day I
Lear of some fresh misdemeanor, idle
ness, insubordination, work half done or
left undone altogether, infringement of
Tules, absence without leave. What is
tbeendtobeV"
Private Jones shot one swift glance at
his chiefs keen and angry face,
opened his mouth as if to speak, but
ended by remaining silent ; the colonel,
howevef continued :
"By what chain of circumstances you
came to enlist I do not know; but if
you imagined for an instant that your
birth would permit you to ride rough
shod over everything, why, you made a
mistake. Because you are a gentleman,
because you can speak half a dozen dif
ferent languages, because you .have got
through your fortune and made an utter
fool of yourself, you cannot be excused
your duties or have your misdoings pass
ed over without punishment. I dare say
it's hard for you to be restricted, to obey
the non-oommisloned officers, to turn
out of your bed at five o'clock, to live
with men of different rank from your
own ; but you should have considered all
that before you brought yourself down
to your present position. With your ad
vantages of education, you might get
your commission in the course of a few
years, aud win back the position you
have lost; but whilst your present bad
.conduct continues I can do nothing for
you. I cannot pass you over the heads
men who do their duty conscientiously,
men whom I can trust., If you do not
NEW BLOOMFIELD, IP.A.., TUESDAY,
choose to alter your present ways you
must make up your mind to remain a
private always; there is no favoritism
in the army. You have now been five
months in the regiment, and those five
months have been utterly wasted ; al
ways shielding yourself behind the fact
that by your birth you are a gentleman
by birth and education. I tell you,
sir, those two facts are a disgrace to you
simply a disgrace instead of a blessing
and an honor. As yet I have kept you
out of the degradation of the cells ; but
I find.that punishment by fines is of no
avail the punishment of a fine simply
falls on your mother."
Private Jones lifted his face, all crlm
Boned by shameful blushes, and repeated
Colonel Cotherstone's concluding words :
"My mother, sir V"
"Your mother, sir," returned the
chief sternly. "If you have no consid
eration for your family, for yourself, for
the honor of your old name; no shame
at the contempt of your officers, no
dread of what the end of all this will be,
does the thought of the mother who
bore you never cross your mind V"
The lad turned away in confused
silence.
"Answer me 1" thundered the chief.
He spoke then for the first time, spoke
in Buch a soft drawling voice that Col.
Cotherstone absoultely shivered, it was
so like that other voice:
"Yes, sir, I do ; only it is so hard,"
with a great sigh.
"What is so hard your work V"
"No, sir ; I don't know that I find
the work so bad. I could always groom
a horse well, and the stable work I soon
got used to. And I don't miud the
men they're rough, but they're good
natured most of them ; but it's the non
commissioned officers I can't stand
them, sir."
"Why not V"
"I can do with old McAllister, sir,"
said the lad eagerly, almost forgetting
his drawl ; "but the sergeants in F troop
O Lord 1" with another sigh. "If I
please one I displease another. It's
having so many masters, and each thinks
he has a right to bully me as hard as he
likes, because they've got a few shillings
worth of gold lace on their jackets, I
suppose."
"Which they have won by their own
good conduct," rejoined the colonel.
"I'll tell you what it is, Hamilton:
"you're a young fool, with only a little
further to go in the direction you're now
in to find yourself at the devil."
"You know me, sir I" the lad gasped.
"I knew your people," answered the
colonel curtly. He had almost said
"your mother," but changed the word
in time to "people;" "and for your
name's sake not for your own, miud
I will give you one more chance. If I
move you out of F troop into Sergeant
McAllister's, will you give me your
word to try aud reform V"
The crimson tide flushed anew over
the lad's face. A rush of feeling (could
that darkness be tears V) flooded into his
azure eyes. He forgot that he was only
private Jones, and that the tall man
with the stern bronzed face before him
was that awe-inspiring being, "the
commanding officer," Colonel Cother
stone, one of the strictest martinets in
the service he forgot it all. He ' only
remembered that he was Hamilton of
Glenbarry, and that this was the first
real kindness, except old McAllister's,
that he had met with for months. In
the impulse of the moment he held out
his hand, and said heartily : "I'll try,
sir."
Colonel Cotherstone just laid his
fingers in the out stretched hand for a
moment.
"Very well, Hamilton, I'll take your
word," be replied gravely. "Now you
can go."
When the door had closed behind the
lad, Colonel Cotherstone sat down again
In his arm chair and tried to think ; but
think be could not. A vision of a cher
ub's face under a forage cap came per
sistently between him and his thoughts.
How many years was it ago that just
such a head and face aud lingered in his
memory just such a cherub's face, and
under a forage cap ? And yet there was
a difference. The mother sweet blue
eyes bad looked straight into his own,
with never the shade of shame he had
seen in those of the son that very day,
aud the forage cap, from under which
the mother's golden curia had strayed,
bore the gold band of an officer, instead
of the simple yellow of the dragoon.
He was not altogether easy in his
mind, that big bronzed soldier. He
knew that, in spite of It Is stern words,
be had treated Private Jones a great
deal too easily, else he would not have
sent the sergeant major away. It is not
altogether usual for commanding officers
to talk to re factory soldiers as he had
talked to Private Jones, and yet
"No," he muttered, "I couldn't be
hard on Mary's boy, who came and
looked at me with Mary's eyes, aud
talked to me with Mary's soft tongue.
Toor little Mary 1" and straightway his
thoughts flew back to the little scene
enacted ever so iuauy years ago, and
which had been recalled so vividly to
his memory that afternoon,- a scene of
which the principal Incident was a cher
ub's fuue under a forage cap.
Naturally, before Edward le Gendre
Cotherstone had obtained his regiment,
he had held the respective positions of
major, captain, lieutenant, and cornet.
Well, it was when he was only Cornet
Cotherstone, and but two-and-twenty,
that he was foolish enough to fall in
love.
At that time, the Cuirassiers were
quartered at Edinburg, and it was in
the modern Athens that he and his
Fate met. That was one-and-twenty
years before the opening of this story,
when Colonel Cotherstone was forty
three, a first-rate soldier, and, consider
ing all things, fairly popular, though
his officers, especially the subalterns,
quite believed in a theory, now many
years' standing, which declared him to
be minus several Important internal
arrangements, one of which was a heart
the other being the bowels of compas
sion. He certainly was very hard.
They all vowed he had not a single
soft spot in his whole composition, but
they were wrong. A soft place he had
and the unruly lad with the cherub's
face had been lucky enough to find it
out.
As I said before, Edward le Gendre
Cotherstone was two and-twe'nty when
he fell In love for the first and Indeed,
the only time. He was driving along
Prince's street one afternoon, when a
small Skye terrier managed to get itself
under his horse's heels, aud, in addition
to that, one of .the wheels passed over it,
At every period of his life Edward
Cotherstone had been as keen as a hawk
is popularly supposed to be, and a vision
of a golden-haired girl dressed in black,
who uttered a piteous cry, and put two
little black-gloved hands out to rescue
the little animal who was howling
frightfully, caused him to pull up the
trap with a jerk, and jump down.
"Oh, I am sorry," he said, bending
over the little creature, now whining
plteously in its young mistress' arms.
"I am so grieved. I hope It is not much
hurt."
The girl's blue eyes, half drowned as
they were in tears, flashed an indignant
glance at him.
"Wonldn't you be hurt," she asked
bluntly, pointing to the wheel as she
spoke, "if that had gone right over
your body V"
"What can I do "to help your'" he
asked, wisely ignoring the question.
''Can I drive you home V"
"I live at Portobello," she answered,
helplessly.
"Please let me drive you there," he
urged. "Let me hold him whilst you
get in, and then I'll lay him ever so
carefully on your lap."
And so he had his own way ; that was
a little peculiarity of Edward Cother
stone's. He took the dog from her with
the utmost tenderness and without ellc
itlng a single cry ; and when she had
mounted into the high trap he restored
it to her gentle keeping. On the way
down to Portobello, be gathered
that the young lady's name was Stewart,
Mary Stewart, and that he lived . with
her grandmother, who did not often go
out. She told him, too, that she was
seventeen ; and that Fluff", the injured
Skye, bad been given to her by her
cousin Hamilton, of Glenbarry. She
also told him that her father had not
been dead many months, and that she
had been to both London and Paris. In
fact, she was so veiy communicative,
that be thought he knew everything
there was to know about her ; but, not
withstanding her apparent candor, there
was one trifling circumstance which,had
DECEMBER (5, 1881.
she mentioned it, would have spared him
many a bitter heartache. She did not
mention it, however. He took her to
her home, and sent his trap away, as
she wished htm to examine and deter
mine the full extent of the dog's injuries.
He was Introduced to the aged grand
mother, who took quite a fancy to him
by reason of having been at school
goodness knows how many years pre
viouslywith his great-aunt. She, too,
mentioned Hamilton, of Glenbarry, and
nientloued him, moreover, in a way
which did not show that any large
amount of love was lost between them.
"He docs not always behave very re
spectfully to grandmamma," Mary con
fided to him in an undertone. "He
calls her 'old lady,' and she can't bear
it."
"Confounded cad!" thought Mr.
Cotherstone.
They foumd upon examination that
Fluff was not very much the worse for
his accident; and little Miss Stewart was
comforted beyond measure when the
young Cuirassier assured her that when
the bruises had passed off he would be
all right again.
But of course he called next day to ask
after Fluff and ascertain if Miss Stewart
had recovered from her fright. He was
remarkably attentive to the old lady,
and won her heart as easily as he did
that of her granddaughter. For some
months this kind of thing continued.
Edward Cotherstone grew more and
more happy ; but the little Mary faded
somewhat, drooped as does a floweret
for want of water and Bunsblne. Some
times she frightened him, she looked so
pale, so wan and fragile ; then again
she would brighten when he appeared
and throw him into fresh transports of
love and happiness ; and so this pretty
play went on until it was played out ;
for one fine morning in June the crash
came. He had gone in for half an hour,
because he knew Mrs. Stewart would
not be visible so early in the day. Mary
looked so bright and fresh that the young
soldier was tempted to take her in his
arms and kiss her, calling her by every
foud and endearing name he could think
of, telling her over and over again how
he loved, how very,very dearly he loved
her, his little Scottish lassie, and a good
deal more in the same strain. And
Mary, what of her ? She never drew
back, never whispered the faintest bint
of that secret which lay between her
and him the secret which once or twice
he had almost stumbled upon. No, she
clung to him with an almost despair
ing passion, which made him feel uneasy
in spite of his happiness, and she twin
ed her soft arms around his throat, and
cried Incredulously : "
"Do you really love me, Eddie y"
"Beally, my darling," he answered.
And then she broke from the clasp of
his loving arms almost Impatiently,
though the love light still Bhone in her
azure eyes, the dimpling smiles still
played about her tender mouth.
"I shall try on your cap," she an
nounced ooquettlshly ; then stuck the
golden bordered cap on the side of her
.head, and, turning from the glass, look
ed at him with passionate love filling her
blue eyes love which she had caught
from his. The sound of a carriage stop
ping without caused her to turn her
head.and when she looked at him again
the smiles had frozen on her sweet
mouth, and a nameless horror had taken
the place of the tender light which a
moment before was shining in her
eyes..
"Oh, ray darling, what is ity the
young soldier cried, in sudden affright.
"It is Hamilton, of Glenbarry," she
answered in a hoarse whisper.
"What Is be to you '" Cotherstone
cried, passionately.
"He is my "
"Your whaty For God's sake, speak
and let me know the worst I" he said
fiercely.
"He will be my husband," she an
swered, in a voice almost inaudible.
With almost brutal roughness,Cother
stone thrust her away from him, caught
up his cap and gloves, and strode out of
the house, where he had spent such
blissful hours, and where, alas, he had
had such a bitter blow, and he never
saw her again.
The following day came a piteous
note of explanation ; how her father had
wished It; how she hud given Hamilton
the promise to please her father when
NO. 49.
he was dying; how she had not the
courage to tell him earlier, because she
had never dreamed he could care for
her; how she was very, very unhappy,
very with a great dash under the ad
verb, and a woeful blister just below
how, though she must keep her promise
she would love her darling Eddie best
all her life long.
And that was the end of it. A few
weeks later he saw the announcement
of her marriage in the papers, and then
he tore her letter up and set himself to
forget her. On the whole he succeeded
fairly well. He threw himself heart and
soul Into his profession, with what re
suit we have seen. He succeeded in
making every one, even himself, believe
be was a man of the consistency of
stone; and yet, when Private Jones,
brought In to receive a severe lecture,
uui iu uue, uui tur n uukcu uiisueuueau-
ors, came and looked at him out of .
Mary's soft, blue eyes, and talked to him
in Mary's soft voice, he could not find
it in his heart bis adamantine heart
to be hard upon Mary's boy.
The vision of the cherub's face under
a forage cap threw him back with pain
ful distinctnesa to the time, one-and-twenty
years before, when he parted
from Mary. He realized that Saturday
afternoon in November that perhaps be
had been very hard upon her, poor little
soul 1 He might, at least, have staid
and said a few kind words to the poor
little woman, who was bound to a man
she hated; that she hated Hamilton
there could be no doubt, for the look of
loathing and horror which leaped into
her eyes as she realized his presence
proclaimed her feelings plainly enough.
Ah ! poor darling he bad got from
(nnn. little .l,,,PI ttnnn. .lo.llr,1
'UVl IILIU DUU1 IU JJIIUI UUUlUj
but he felt now that he had been cruel
to her; he might at least have answer
ed that heart-broken, despairing letter,
and so, perhaps, have made ber lot less
hard to bear than it probably was.
Well, at all events, be had not been hard
upon the boy, that was one consoling
point. Boys will go wrong, especially
when they have no father to keep them
straight. He had suspected all along
who Private J ones really was, though
till that very afternoon he bad not been
quite certain. He wondered if a letter
to his mother would do any good. She
was a widow now, poor soul Hamilton
had been dead ten years, he knew and
naturally took an interest in her only
child that Mrs. Hamilton of Glenbarry
had had but one child, Col. Cotherstone
was also aware and certainly if he
wrote a few lines she could not take it
amiss, and It might be a comfort to .
her.
And so Colonel Cotherstone sat down
to bis writing table to pen uu epistle to
his old love, Mary Stewart, the mother
of that exceedingly wayward young
gentleman, Private Edward Jones, F
troop.
"She called him after me, too," mur
mured the commanding officer of the
Cuirassiers, as he selected a pen. "Poor
little Mary." .
It was easy enough to write "Novem
ber 14th," under the printed "Cavalry
Barracks, York," which was already
stamped on the paper, but he found the
next part scarcely so easy. His most
natural impulse was to begin, "My
dear Mary ;" yet when he had written it,
he thought it too familiar, so be took
another sheet. Having put another
"November 14th" at the top, he began,
"My dear Mrs. Hamilton"
"What shall I say next ?" he said
aloud.
It took blm a long time to write this
letter ; but at last be accomplished it.
It was not very long, and It was rather
stiff.
"My dear Mrs. Hamilton," It ran, "I
have only this afternoon discovered that
your son has enlisted in the Cuirassiers
under the name of Joues. He has been
five months iu the regiment; and
though as yet he is im patien t of restraint ,
I am in hopes that we shall make a good
soldier of him, and, in the course of a
few years, that he will obtain his com
mission. Any Interest of mine, you
may be sure, he will not want. Believe
me, my dear Mrs. Hamilton, most faith
fully yours, Edward Le Gexdre
Cotherstone."
That was the letter he wrote and sent. '
Three days passed, during which he re
ceived no reply a faet which worried
him somewhat. On the fourth day