at she could not see he had no other alternative
but silence.

"It would have been simply giving away 'The Towers' to have blurted it
all out then."

To Bluebell's unsophisticated mind, honesty seemed more importunate than
expediency.

"Then, if you do get 'The Towers' now, it will be on false pretences."

Harry reddened. He had all along been goaded by a vague sense of
dishonour. "It's useless crying over spilt milk," exclaimed he,
impatiently. "Now would have been the very worst time--just as he
wants me to marry some one else. But when I come back--"

"Then he may be dead."

"By Jove! I think he has quite as good a chance of surviving me--not a
shade of odds either way. Look here, Bluebell, I will write a letter
containing a full confession, enclose our marriage certificate, and seal
it with this ring he gave me. If anything happens, send it to him, and I
believe he will take care of you, but not while I am alive."

"Send it to him at once, Harry."

"You used not to be so indifferent to poverty, Bluebell. You told me, in
the steamer, that you had a longing for luxury and riches."

"Luxury and riches," echoed Bluebell, "seem as improbable as ever. I
should like to be able to look my friends in the face."

But it was all in vain. Dutton, though remorseful, was obdurate; there
was much to arrange, and he had only twenty-four hours to remain. Lord
Bromley had omitted the accustomed parting cheque, which Harry had
reckoned on, and money was scarce with the two young people.

"Will you go back to Canada, Bluebell, till the war is over, and I will
send you all the money I can?"

"What, as Miss Leigh?"

And he could say no more. The same difficulty prevented her writing to
the Rollestons, or any one else. Long and anxiously they talked over
their dilemma; Dutton had only money enough to pay his bill at the
cottage, and Bluebell was resolute to earn something for herself.

She answered an advertisement in the _Times_ he had brought with him,
naming, as reference, the mother of Evelyn Leighton. To her she also
wrote, begging that any applicant might have the recommendation she had
received of her from Mrs. Rolleston.

Dutton had gone, but expected to be able to return for a day or two
before the fleet sailed, and Bluebell was left alone with her
thoughts--too full of horrors for solitude to be endurable. Each night
she dreamed of Harry, dying, and mangled by shot or shell, only to renew
the vision in her wak