 be ill.

"Mark's dead!" he found himself saying mentally; "and there are no such
things as ghosts--education killed the last of them years ago.  But it
does seem horrible to come suddenly face to face with a fellow so like
poor Mark that I should have felt ready to declare it was he.  Nature
does make people different; and yet that officer is as like him as can
be.  Of course, he would have grown set and more manly.  And--oh! but
it's impossible!  He's dead! he's dead!"

He had gone back into the band-room, where, as of old, some twenty men
were blowing hard, each working up the parts of new pieces, and utterly
regardless, as well as unconscious, of his neighbour--use having given
the bandsmen the ability to practice away deaf to the noise produced by
others.  Here he sat down in his own corner, and began to look over his
music, expecting that before long Wilkins would be there to try over a
few pieces in proper harmony instead of discord.  But the crotchets and
quavers became people, and the staves the roads along which they passed;
and, the more he tried, the more excited he grew.

For a few minutes he enjoyed a rest, for his eyes suddenly rested upon
Brumpton, who, looking wonderfully fat, shiny, and happy, sat back, with
his jacket unbuttoned, pumping away at the huge brass instrument, whose
coils he nursed at his breast while he boomed and burred and brought
forth bass notes of the deepest and richest quality.

Then Brumpton's smooth, round face grew dim, and in its place there was
the haughty, self-satisfied young officer, proud of his regimentals and
scornfully gazing at the young bandsman as he passed.

Dick could bear it no longer; he felt that he must get back into the
open air, and to some place where he could be in peace while he made up
his mind what to do.

The next minute his mind did not want making up.  He had come to a
determination; for, feeling that he would never be able to rest until he
had got rid of the idea of the officer he had met being his cousin Mark,
he set off with the intention of