e owe you a
debt none can pay, but let me offer you my most humble apologies for my
behaviour when you came."

"Please, don't," he returned.

"But I had to. And now, let me know what is our lesser and more material
debt?"

He rose, smiling. "It has been my happy, unbroken rule to take nothing
from any soldier who served in this sad war--oh! on either side. I have
made, I hope, some friends. The Colonel asked to-day about a horse
Dixy--I think--and when could he ride. You may imagine my pleasure. He
will get well, but you must be patient. I leave him in competent hands,
and in the fall I mean to come back and shoot your woodcocks. Good-bye."
He was gone.

CHAPTER XXXIII

A week later Ann Penhallow was told that she might see her husband. She
entered his bedroom with timidity. "Oh, Ann, my most dear Ann!" he cried,
as she kissed him. His expression of recovered intelligence overcame her
for a moment.

She faltered, "How are you feeling, James--any better?"

"Better--I am well."

"Hardly, dear--do be careful." She was unable to accept as a wholesome
reality this amazing resurrection of a mind.

He understood her need for some reassurance, and said, "Don't worry about
me, Ann. It is like a vague dream, all these many months--but a dream you
know fades fast. My own memories get clearer--some things are quite
lost--some are as distinct as if they happened yesterday. The war is a
puzzle to me--and--if I try to remember, it confuses me. But I must not
talk war to you--I do remember that. I won't do it again, dear."

There was something so childlike in this that it almost overcame the
woman's steadily guarded calm. She had been warned to be careful that
there should be no excitement to agitate a mind which was slowly groping
its way out of the shadows of half-illumined memories.

"Oh, my dear James," she said quietly, "talk of war or anything; it is
over." Despite her cautious command of her voice it trembled with emotion
as she said, "Nothing is of any moment but you--you. What do I care for
the war or--or anything but to have you as you were? Oh, my God! I am
thankful."

It disturbed him, as she saw. He felt and looked puzzled as he said, "I
see--I am not quite clear-headed yet, Ann."

"No, but you will be. Don't try too hard, James. We must be patient and
wait."

"I will--I will--and it is such a relief to have no pain and to see you."

Then as he asked about Leila and the mill work, the younger do