ing from it.
The words rushed from her lips:

"Is there any message for me?"

The stranger regarded her curiously.

"No," he stammered, "no! I guess not. He is well.... I wish...." He
stopped; her white face seemed to flash scorn, despair, and entreaty on
him all at once. And turning, she left him standing there.

XXVII

When Christian went that evening to her uncle's room he was sitting up in
bed, and at once began to talk. "Chris," he said, "I can't stand this
dying by inches. I'm going to try what a journey'll do for me. I want
to get back to the old country. The doctor's promised. There's a shot
in the locker yet! I believe in that young chap; he's stuck to me like a
man.... It'll be your birthday, on Tuesday, old girl, and you'll be
twenty. Seventeen years since your father died. You've been a lot to
me.... A parson came here today. That's a bad sign. Thought it his
duty! Very civil of him! I wouldn't see him, though. If there's
anything in what they tell you, I'm not going to sneak in at this time o'
day. There's one thing that's rather badly on my mind. I took advantage
of Mr. Harz with this damned pitifulness of mine. You've a right to look
at me as I've seen you sometimes when you thought I was asleep. If I
hadn't been ill he'd never have left you. I don't blame you, Chris--not
I! You love me? I know that, my dear. But one's alone when it comes to
the run-in. Don't cry! Our minds aren't Sunday-school books; you're
finding it out, that's all!" He sighed and turned away.

The noise of sun-blinds being raised vibrated through the house. A
feeling of terror seized on the girl; he lay so still, and yet the
drawing of each breath was a fight. If she could only suffer in his
place! She went close, and bent over him.

"It's air we want, both you and I!" he muttered. Christian beckoned to
the nurse, and stole out through the window.

A regiment was passing in the road; she stood half-hidden amongst the
lilac bushes watching. The poplar leaves drooped lifeless and almost
black above her head, the dust raised by the soldiers' feet hung in the
air; it seemed as if in all the world no freshness and no life were
stirring. The tramp of feet died away. Suddenly within arm's length of
her a man appeared, his stick shouldered like a sword. He raised his
hat.

"Good-evening! You do not remember me? Sarelli. Pardon! You looked
like a ghost standing there. How badly those f