old in this
letter in the article entitled "Romance" of the present volume.

To return to "My Home," I question whether the love and devotion of
"Hilda" and "Ma" for Hugh was so entirely unselfish. For my mother I
fully believe, as for "Hilda," Hugh was the epitome of all that was
fine, splendid and joyous in life. He was the glorious knight, the
"preux chevalier" "sans peur et sans reproche," who rode forth at dawn
with clean sword and shining armour, and all the world before him, yet
keeping his heart for ever in his home. He was the child of her youth
as Donald was the child of her maturity. Deep down in her wonderfully
varied nature there were certain bottomless springs of courage, daring
and enterprise which she herself had little chance of expressing and
of which Hugh alone was the personification.

As long as I can remember Hugh had been my ideal and made all the
interest and joy of life for me. Whether he were at home or abroad I
never had a thought I did not share with him. When he died, the best
part of me died too, or was paralysed rather, and Heaven knows what
sort of a "substitute" I should have been for "Ma" to Donald, had not
the baby Hugh come, just in time, with healing in his wings to restore
life to the best part of me!

I am glad to think that Donald's "Autobiography" was written before
1914, for I know that even before that I was becoming more to him than
a "substitute." I too have my memories and pictures!

It is May, 1915. I am in the country-house--cleaning is going on at
home.

I get a letter to say that the Rifle Brigade may leave for France
at any time, and that Donald _may_ get some "leave" on Saturday or
Sunday.

I make a dash for town.

There I find a telegram of reckless and unconscionable length, running
into two pages. He cannot come up--they may leave at any moment. It
seems hardly worth while my bothering to come to Aldershot on the
chance--he may be unable to leave barracks.

I write a return telegram--also of reckless and unconscionable length,
and reply paid--it is a relief to do so--asking for a place of meeting
at Aldershot to be suggested.

I get no answer at all, and on Sunday morning, in despair, I go
over to see my aunt and cousin. My aunt is my mother's sister and a
sportswoman. She counsels, "Go at all costs." Dorothy will come with
me: Dorothy is Donald's best woman pal--she reminds him of his mother.
She is all that is wholesome and comportable.

The element