are mounted on elephants in India; but that was better than that she should know all the shame and distress I went through, which would break her heart, I believe.

"After a year at the depot, I went out to India again to the headquarters of my present regiment, and I spent three wretched years there, on the Madras side this time, principally at Bangalore. I have never seen Carlotta; all I know is that her money is paid by my agents to some solicitors in London for her every half-year.

"We came home about eighteen months ago, and that brings me down to my acquaintance with Mary."

"Well, Adolphus," I said, "I must say you have had uncommonly hard lines. One would almost say that one moral of your story at least is, 'Never act upon the impulse of kind feelings;' but if you don't mind telling me, I should like to know what happened the day after I mean the day

you awoke and remembered your declaration to Miss Richmond."

"The next day I did not see her at all— it was impossible, for some reason or other. I lay in bed all the forenoon, in a very unhappy state, you may believe. At one time I thought of this millstone round my neck—this abominable woman, but for whom I might be the happiest fellow in the world; and then I thought of what I had said to Mary, and how on earth it was all to be unsaid; and then I kept saying to myself, 'You scoundrel, you villain, you blackguard, you've been and gone and done it, and you'll end in the hulks, which is just the place for you.' And then a thought came into my head, 'Was there no means of dissolving this marriage anyhow?' had thought of this before a score of times, but had dismissed the idea always, because I knew anything I did would require to be public, and I couldn't bear the

I

thought of everybody knowing what an ass I had been; and, above all things, I wouldn't have my old grandmother know about the business. But now I had a reason a very tremendous reason, you see

-and I felt that I didn't care about the publicity; and as for my grandmother, she would get over it, provided only I could get rid of Carlotta for ever, and be able to go to Mary as an honest man. I thought away as hard as I could, but I haven't got many brains, you know, and it all came to nothing, of course. Tommy Carleton's brother, an Oxford fellow, was staying with us at the time. No end of a fellow to talk and lay down the law about everything. I'll be hanged if he didn't seem to know everything, and somehow, even when you agreed with him, he contrived to show you that you knew nothing and were wrong. At mess that night my mind was still running on the thought, 'Can I ever get rid of this

woman by any sort of dodge or contrivance of the law?' and it seemed to me that if anybody could give one a wrinkle on the subject, this devil of a brother of Tommy Carleton's, who knew everything, ought to be able. I must tell you that my regiment knew nothing about my marriage, only that there had been a queer story about a woman in India ages ago. Well, I wanted to draw the Oxford man, and I was very cunning about it. I told him a story-my own story, or very like it-about a friend of mine-John Smith, I called him-being married to a woman-Susan Jones-when he was quite a lad, and didn't care for her, and about her being a drunken old scoundrel, and his wanting to get rid of her, and that he (J. S.) had written to me for my opinion (as a practical man) whether, if he became a Roman Catholic, the Pope could smash up his marriage by a bull or something, this idea had occurred to me, and

I thought it happy. The Oxford man laughed very long and very loud, and said, 'Poor dear John Smith! his innocence is almost as singular as his name,' and did 1 mean to say that I was ignoramus enough to entertain such an idea? Of course I said 'No,' and that I only mentioned it as a capital joke; adding that I supposed J. S. was regularly cooked and dished, and could never get out of it. Then Tommy Carleton's brother looked awfully wise, and asked some questions.

"What age was this Smith at the time of marriage?' I said, 'Nineteen, or thereby.' 'Where did the marriage take place?' and I said, 'Otaheite, one of the South Sea Islands'—why, I don't know. The Oxford man laughed at this, and asked if John Smith was a missionary; and I said, 'No, that he was only cruising about for a lark.' Then he asked if he had ever gone through a second ceremony. I said, 'No, he hadn't