ay, Ann?"

"Oh, often, James." No signal of her anguish showed on the gallantly
carried face of the little woman.

"Quiet, isn't it? When was it I was hit? It was--wasn't it in May? Rivers
says it was July--I do not like contradiction." His appreciation of time
and recognition of locality were alike disordered, as Rivers had observed
with distress and a too constant desire to set him right. With better
appreciation of his condition, Ann accepted his statement.

"Yes--yes, of course, dear--it is just so."

"I knew you would understand me. I should like to go to bed--I want
Josiah--no one else."

"Yes, dear," and this above all else made clear to the unhappy little
lady how far was the sturdy soldier who had left her from the broken man
in undress uniform who clung to the rail, as he went slowly up the
stairway with his servant. In the hall he had seen Leila, but gave her no
word, not even his habitual smile of recognition.

Ann stared after them a moment, motioned Rivers away with uplifted hand,
and hastening into the library sat down and wept like a child. She had
been unprepared for the change in his appearance and ways. More closely
observant, Leila saw that the lines of decisiveness were gone, the
humorous circles about the mouth and eyes, as it were, flattened out, and
that the whole face, with the lips a little languidly parted, had become
expressionless. It was many days before she could see the altered visage
without emotion, or talk of him to her aunt with any of the amazing
hopefulness with which the older woman dwelt on her husband's intervals
of resemblance to his former self.

He would not ride or enter the stables, but his life was otherwise a
childlike resumption of his ordinary habits, except that when annoyed by
Ann's too obvious anxiety or excess of carefulness, he became irritable
at times and even violent in language. He so plainly preferred Leila's
company in his short walks as to make the wife jealous and vexed that she
was not wanted during every minute of his altered life. He read no books
as of old, but would have Leila read to him the war news until he fell
asleep, when she quietly slipped away.

Mark Rivers resumed his duties for a time, unwilling to abandon these
dear friends for whom McGregor, puzzled and perplexed, had no word of
consolation, except the assurance that his condition did not grow worse.

At times Penhallow was dimly aware of his state; at others he resented
any effor