im, and took him to a nurse,
who offered to lead him to the wing occupied by Lord and Lady Durwent.
With wondering eyes he glanced at the transformation of the rooms once
so familiar to him. There were beds even in the halls, and everywhere
soldiers in hospital-blue were combining in a cheerful noise which was
sufficient indication that their convalescence was progressing
favourably. In the music-room a local concert-party (including the
organist who had tried to teach Elise the piano) were giving an
entertainment, with the utmost satisfaction to themselves and the
patients.

The nurse led him upstairs and knocked at a door. On receiving a
summons to enter she went in, and a moment later emerged again.

'Will you please go in?' she said.

Thanking her for her trouble, Selwyn stepped into the room, which was
lit only by the light from a log-fire, beside which Lord Durwent and
his wife were seated. Lady Durwent, who had just come from her nightly
grand-duchess parade of the patients, was busying herself with her
knitting, and was in obvious good spirits. Lord Durwent rose as Selwyn
entered, and the good lady dramatically dropped her knitting on the
floor.

'Mister Selwyn!' she exclaimed. 'This is an unexpected pleasure!'

The American bowed cordially over her proffered hand; but when he
turned to acknowledge the old nobleman's greeting he was struck silent.
No tree withered by a frost ever showed its hurt more clearly than did
Lord Durwent. Although he stood erect in body, and summoned the gentle
courtesy which was inseparable from his nature, his whole bearing was
as of one whom life has cut across the face with a knotted whip,
leaving an open cut. He had thought to live his days in the seclusion
of Roselawn, but destiny had spared him nothing.

'Have you had dinner?' asked Lord Durwent. 'We are strictly rationed,
but I think the larder still holds something for a welcome guest.'

'Isn't the war dreadful?' said Lady Durwent gustily.

'I had something to eat at the inn,' said Selwyn, 'so I hope you won't
bother about me.'

The older man was going to press his hospitality further, but as it was
obvious from the American's manner that he had come for a special
purpose, he merely indicated a chair near the fire.

'You move stiffly,' he said. 'Have you been wounded?'

'Yes,' said Selwyn, continuing to stand; 'but there are no permanent
ill effects, luckily. Lord Durwent, I came from London to-day to sp