some, and maybe many, would draw
the black ticket of doom, and so pass from the game before the game was
won.

The rumbling roll of hoofs grew distinct. Now they seemed to be almost
upon her, and presently they emerged into view from the right, where
their progress had been hidden by the hospital-building. When they
reached the hospital there came a soft command and, as the troop
passed, every face was turned towards the building. It was men full of
life and the interest of the great game paying passing homage to their
helpless comrades in this place of healing.

As they rode past, a few of the troopers had a glimpse of the figure
dimly outlined at the window. Some made kindly jests, cheffing each
other--"Your fancy, old sly-boots? Arranged it all, eh? Watch me,
Lizzie, as I pass, and wave your lily-white hand!"

But others pressed their lips tightly, for visions of a woman somewhere
waiting and watching flashed before their eyes; while others still had
only the quiet consciousness of the natural man, that a woman looks at
them; and where women are few and most of them are angels,--the
battle-field has no shelter for any other--such looks have deep
significance.

The troop went by steadily, softly and slowly. After they had all gone
past, two horsemen detached from the troop came after. Presently one of
them separated from his companion and rode on. The other came towards
the hospital at a quick trot, drew bridle very near Jasmine's window,
slid to the ground, said a soft word to his charger, patted its neck,
and, turning, made for the door of the hospital. For a moment Jasmine
stood looking out, greatly moved, she scarcely knew why, by this little
incident of the night, and then suddenly the starlight seemed to draw
round the patient animal standing at attention, as it were.

Then she saw it was a grey horse.

Its owner, as Corporal Shorter predicted, had come to see "Old Gunter,"
ere he went upon another expedition of duty. Its owner was Rudyard Byng.

That was why so strange a coldness, as of apprehension or anxiety, had
passed through Jasmine when the rider had come towards her out of the
night. Her husband was here. If she called, he would come. If she
stretched out her hand, she could touch him. If she opened a door, she
would be in his presence. If he opened the door behind her, he could--

She stepped back hastily into the room, and drew her night-robe closely
about her with sudden flushing of the face