. "Oh, and one thing more--I should be very
grateful if you'd go and see my mother sometimes. During the last few
days hardly a soul's been near her. Of course I know how different you
are the one from the other, but all the same----" he hesitated a moment.
"My mother has fine qualities, once you get under that--well, shall I
call it that London veneer? She saw a great deal of the world after she
became a widow, while she was keeping house for a brother--when I was in
India. She'd like to see Rose, too"--unconsciously he dropped the
"Miss." "She likes young people, especially pretty girls."

"Of course I'll go and see her, and so will Rose! You know I've always
liked Mrs. Guthrie better than she liked me. I'm not 'smart' enough for
her." Mrs. Otway laughed without a trace of bitterness. And then with
sudden seriousness she asked him a curious question: "How long d'you
think you'll be away?"

"D'you mean how long do I think the War will last?"

Somehow she had not thought of her question quite in that sense. "Yes: I
suppose that is what I do mean."

"I think it will be a long war. It will certainly last a year--perhaps a
good deal longer."

He walked over to the window nearest the door. Standing there, he told
himself that he was looking perhaps for the last time on the dear,
familiar scene before him: on the green across which high elms now flung
their short morning shadows; on the encompassing houses, some of
exceeding stateliness and beauty, others of a simpler, less
distinguished character, yet each instinct with a dignity and seemliness
which exquisitely harmonised it with its finer fellows; and finally on
the slender Gothic loveliness of the Cathedral.

"I'm trying to learn this view by heart," said Major Guthrie, in a
queer, muffled voice. "I've always thought it the most beautiful view in
England--the one that stands for all a man cares for, all he would fight
for."

Mrs. Otway was touched--touched and pleased too. She knew that her
friend was baring to her a very secret chamber of his heart.

"It _is_ a beautiful, peaceful outlook," she said quietly. "I was
thinking so not long before you came in--when I was sitting here,
reading the strange, dreadful news in to-day's paper."

He turned away from the window and looked at her. She saw in the shadow
that his face looked grey and strained. "Major Guthrie?" she began, a
little shyly.

"Yes?" he said rather quickly. "Yes, Mrs. Otway?"

"I only want to a