a friend as he was bitter
an opponent. Could he have denied it he would have done so strongly and
indignantly.

It was clear that, much as he liked Bathurst, he believed him wanting in
physical courage. He had said, indeed, that he believed he was brave in
some respects, and had asserted that he knew of one exceptional act of
courage that he had performed; but what was that if a man had had to
leave the army because he was a coward? To Isobel it seemed that of all
things it was most dreadful that a man should be wanting in courage.
Tales of daring and bravery had always been her special delight, and,
being full of life and spirit herself, it had not seemed even possible
to her that a gentleman could be a coward, and that Bathurst could be so
was to her well nigh incredible.

It might, as the Doctor had urged, be in no way his fault, but this did
not affect the fact. He might be more to be pitied than to be blamed;
but pity of that kind, so far from being akin to love, was destructive
of it.

Unconsciously she had raised Bathurst on a lofty pinnacle. The Doctor
had spoken very highly of him. She had admired the energy with which,
instead of caring, as others did, for pleasure, he devoted himself to
his work. Older men than himself listened to his opinions. His quiet and
somewhat restrained manner was in contrast to the careless fun and good
humor of most of those with whom she came in contact. It had seemed to
her that he was a strong man, one who could be relied upon implicitly at
all times, and she had come in the few weeks she had been at Deennugghur
to rely upon his opinion, and to look forward to his visits, and even to
acknowledge to herself that he approached her ideal of what a man should
be more than anyone else she had met.

And now this was all shattered at a blow. He was wanting in man's first
attribute. He had left the army, if not in disgrace, at least under
a cloud and even his warm friend, the Doctor, could not deny that the
accusation of cowardice was well founded. The pain of the discovery
opened her eyes to the fact which she had not before, even remotely,
admitted to herself, that she was beginning to love him, and the
discovery was a bitter one.

"I may thank Captain Forster for that, at least," she said to herself,
as she angrily wiped a tear from her cheek; "he has opened my eyes in
time. What should I have felt if I had found too late that I had come
to love a man who was a coward--who had l