me when I was not conscious of his presence--he
must have recognised me."

She looked down at her worn shoes; the tears fell silently; she
smoothed her gray gown for lack of employment for her restless
hands.

"Dear," he said, "do you believe he went to Ailsa with his story
about you?"

"Oh, yes, yes, I am sure. What else could it be that has angered
her--that drives me away from her--that burns me with the dreadful
gaze she turns on me--chills me with her more dreadful
silence? . . . Why did he do it? I don't know--oh, I don't
know. . . . Because I had never even spoken to him--in those days
that I have tried so hard--so hard to forget----"

He said slowly: "He is a coward. I have known that for a long
time. But most men are. The disgrace lies in acting like one. . .
And I--that is why I didn't run in battle. . . . Because, that
first day, when they fired on our waggons, _I saw him riding in the
road behind us_. Nobody else suspected him to be within miles. I
saw him. And--_he galloped the wrong way_. And that is why
I--did what I did! He shocked me into doing it. . . . But I never
before have told a soul. I would not tell even you--but the man,
yesterday, put himself beyond the pale. And it can make no
difference now, for he carries the mark into his grave."

He shuddered slightly. "God forbid I hold him up to scorn. I
might, this very moment, be what he is now. No man may know--no
man can foretell how he will bear himself in time of stress. I
have a sorry record of my own. Battle is not the only conflict
that makes men or cowards."

He stood silent, gazing into space. Letty's tears dried as she
watched him.

"Have you seen--her?" she asked tremulously.

"Yes."

The girl sighed and looked down.

"I am so sorry about Colonel Arran . . . . I believe, somehow, he
will get well."

"Do you really believe it, Letty?"

"Yes. The wound is clean. I have seen many recover who were far
more dangerously hurt. . . . His age is against him, but I do
truly believe he will get well."

He thought a moment. "Have you heard about Stephen Craig?"

"They have telegraphed to his affianced--a Miss Lent. You probably
know her. Her brother was killed a day or two ago. Poor little
thing! I believe that Miss Lent is coming. Mrs. Craig wishes to
take her boy North as soon as he can be moved. And, unless the
wound becomes infected, I don't believe he is going to die."

"Where is he?"

"At