"No one has changed more since this siege began than he has. Except when
engaged under a heavy fire he has been either silent, or impatient and
short tempered, shirking conversation even with women when his turn
of duty was over. Mind, I don't say for a moment that I suspect him of
being afraid of death; when the end came he would fight as bravely
as ever, and no one could fight more bravely. But he cannot stand the
waiting; he is always pulling his mustache moodily and muttering to
himself; he is good to do but not to suffer; he would make a shockingly
bad patient in a long illness.

"Well, if any of you have letters you want to write to friends in
England I should advise you to take the opportunity; mind, I don't think
they will ever get them. Forster may get through, but I consider the
chances strongly against it. For a ride of ten miles through a country
swarming with foes I could choose no messenger I would rather trust, but
for a ride like this, that requires patience and caution and resource,
he is not the man I should select. Bathurst would have succeeded almost
certainly if he had once got out. The two men are as different as light
to dark; one possesses just the points the other fails in. I have no one
at home I want to write to, so I will undertake the watch here."

CHAPTER XVII.

The men on descending from the roof found all the ladies engaged in
writing, the Major having told them that there was a chance of their
letters being taken out. Scarce one looked up as they entered; their
thoughts at the moment were at home with those to whom they were writing
what might well be their last farewells. Stifled sobs were heard in the
quiet room; mournful letters were blurred with tears even from eyes that
had not before been dimmed since the siege began.

Isobel Hannay was the first to finish, for her letter to her mother was
but a short one. As she closed it she looked up. Captain Forster was
standing at the other side of the table with his eyes fixed on her,
and he made a slight gesture to her that he wished to speak to her. She
hesitated a moment, and then rose and quietly left the room. A moment
later he joined her outside.

"Come outside," he said, "I must speak to you;" and together they went
out through the passage into the courtyard.

"Isobel," he began, "I need not tell you that I love you; till lately
I have not known how much, but I feel now that I could not live without
you."

"Why are you