ALL SAINTS' AND ALL SOULS' On a week-day morning a small congregation, consisting mainly of women and girls, rose from its knees in the mouldy nave of a church called All Saints', in the distant barrack-town before-mentioned, at the end of a service without a sermon.

They were about to disperse, when a smart footstep, entering the porch and coming up the central passage, arrested their attention.

The step echoed with a ring unusual in a church; it was the clink of spurs.

Everybody looked.

A young cavalry soldier in a red uniform, with the three chevrons of a sergeant upon his sleeve, strode up the aisle, with an embarrassment which was only the more marked by the intense vigour of his step, and by the determination upon his face to show none.