at first thought of procuring one for him.

He was lying meditating, wakefully, about many things one day when one
of the nurses approached his bed. He did not see her at first, because
his head was so swathed in bandages that only one eye was permitted to
do duty, and that, as Molloy might have said, was on the lee-side of his
nose--supposing the side next the nurse to represent the wind'ard side!

"I have been laid up a long time," said a lady, who accompanied the
nurse, "and have been longing to resume my visits here, as one or two
patients whom I used to nurse are still in hospital."

The heart of Miles gave a bound such as it had not attempted since the
night he witnessed the murder on the battle-field, for the voice was
that of Mrs Drew.

"This is one of our latest arrivals," remarked the nurse, lowering her
voice as they advanced. "A poor young soldier--lost a hand and badly
wounded--can't sleep. He has taken a strange longing of late for a
rose, and I have asked a friend to fetch one for him."

"How lucky that we happen to have one with us!" said Mrs Drew, looking
back over her shoulder where her daughter stood, concealed from view by
her ample person. "Marion, dear, will you part with your rose-bud to a
wounded soldier?"

"Certainly, mother, I will give it him myself."

She stepped quickly forward, and looked sadly at the solitary, glowing
eye which gazed at her, as she unfastened a rose-bud from her bosom. It
was evident that she did not recognise Miles, and no wonder, for,
besides the mass of bandages from out of which his one eye glowed, there
was a strip of plaster across the bridge of his nose, a puffy swelling
in one of the cheeks, and the handsome mouth and chin were somewhat
veiled by a rapidly developing moustache and beard.

Miles did not speak--he could not speak; he scarcely dared to breathe as
the girl placed a red rose-bud in his thin hand. His trembling fingers
not only took the rose, but the hand that gave it, and pressed it feebly
to his lips.

With a few words of comfort and good wishes the ladies passed on. Then
Miles drew the rose down under the bed-clothes, put it to his lips, and,
with a fervently thankful mind, fell into the first profound slumber
that he had enjoyed for many days.

This was a turning-point. From that day Miles began to mend. He did
not see Marion again for some time, for her visit had been quite
incidental, but he was satisfied to learn that she was