been set.

I reined up, dismounted, and with difficulty got him up behind me, for he had broken his right leg below the kneecap. The enemy were within a few yards of us now, and bullets were whistling by. I heard the thundering of a horse behind me, and I thought the next thing would be a bullet in poor Mason's back, so I wheeled round like lightning, levelled my rifle, and shot our pursuer. He fell like a stone out of his saddle, and we tore on. When we reached camp a bullet was found in my saddle, another had carried off the heel of my right boot, and Mason's helmet had three holes in it. Yet neither of us had a scratch. I was congratulated by the General on my lucky escape. I went to see Mason an hour or two after. His leg had just He made me look rather foolish by the rot he talked, but he added (and this for your benefit!): "I hear you are one of the religious sort, so I suppose you don't believe in luck." I said "I preferred to consider myself in God's keeping." "Well," he said, “I wish I were in the same boat." So I sat down and gave him my experience, and I did what I never thought I could have done. I gave him your letter to read; you know which one. He asked me this morning if he might keep it a bit longer. I knew you wouldn't mind; he is very struck with it. I am kept pretty busy, and feel like an orderly, but it's grand to be free from all my old temptations. We have so much to do and think of here that idle moments are few. I hope our next try at Ladysmith will be a success. His Grace must be longing to be out. I suppose you haven't heard anything of him for an age. Communication is difficult, and the Boers are massed between us and them. Tell Giles' mother her son is very fit. His devotion to his master is a joke out here! He sat down and cried because I wouldn't let him come with me yesterday. My respects to Diogenes. Do you think if I got half a dozen V. C.'s and an empty coat sleeve (it must be the left, for a hero is never awkward!) that Dot would look at me? Good-bye. They say this will be a long affair, so don't expect me home just yet. I can tell you the sights of a battlefield sober the wildest chaps out here.

Your affectionate brother,

ED.

Olive's eyes were moist with tears as she finished this. She thought of her gay reckless young brother flinging away his money right and left; a constant and

increasing source of anxiety to all his family; and now the same gay bright spirit, but deepened and softened by unseen influence; as brave and courageous as he had been, but equally ready to meet death, or to help a comrade on the way to heaven.

No fears now for him, only happy assurance that he was in the keeping of One who would keep him "against that day."

And then Ida's plaintive voice brought her back to the sick room.

"I

"Beautiful is tired; her back hurts, and she thinks she would like her hair cut. May I have the scissors ?" Olive bent down and kissed the white little face. shouldn't cut her hair, she has only one little tuft left, and it will never grow again."

"Beautiful and me is tired. We've had nothing to do all day. Supposing I had died and gone to heaven where would Beautiful have gone?"

Olive could hardly reply to this question, but Ida insisted on an answer.

"I think I would have wrapped her up in a white silk handkerchief, and put her in a drawer," said Olive at length.

"And not put her in a proper grave in the churchyard?"

"No, perhaps some sick little girl might have been glad to have her."

"She shan't have her, she shan't! Beautiful belongs to me for ever and ever, and I shan't die if she can't die with me."

"I think God has been so good as to spare your life, darling, because He wants you to grow up and be a use

ful little servant of His. You must try and be and thank Him for all the care He has taken of have been ill.”

you

very good, you since

"I think p'raps I'd better have gone to heaven," said Ida reflectively. "I shouldn't be kept in one room there and not allowed to open the window a tiny bit, or do anything I wanted to!"

Olive wisely ignored this remark.

"I will tell you a secret," she said, taking the child into her lap. "Do you know why I am feeding you up and taking such care of you?"

"No, why?"

"Because directly you get a little bit strong, I am going to take you right away to the seaside. A nice little warm sunny place, where you can play about on the sands. I have written to a friend of Mrs. March's who has rooms to let, and she is getting them ready for us. We shall have a nice bow window looking out on the sea, where we shall see all the ships go by. And if you take your medicines well, and don't fret, I think we may be able to go next week.”

Ida's cheeks got pink with excitement.

Such news made her forget her weariness and discontent, and for the next few days her whole mind and thoughts were on the coming visit.

CHAPTER XXI

TELL ME YOU ARE GLAD TO SEE ME!"

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the love that lurks in all delight —

The love of thee-and in the blue heaven's height
And in the dearest passage of a song.

Oh just beyond the sweetest thoughts that throng

This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;

I must stop short of thee the whole day long.

-Alice Meynell.

THEY went away to the sea, and Ida rapidly gained strength. At times, and especially when the child was in bed at night, a fit of loneliness would come over Olive. She fought against it bravely, and filled up her time by working for the soldiers at the Front. Even Ida was induced to knit some caps, and it was a great triumph to get any work done by those restless little fingers.

Osmond brightened their life by his amusing letters, which arrived every two or three days, giving details of the farm and village life which Olive had now learnt to love so well. And Mrs. Hunt wrote continually. Mr. Hunt was much better, and they were already looking forward to their return. They were anxious about their child's illness, but Olive still wrote every three or four days with an account of her. Mrs. Hunt's letters were very characteristic, amusing and frank; with a touch of that freshness in thought and feeling that was so attractive to Olive.

"I am coming home with fresh resolves and vows to attend to my husband more and my parish less," she wrote. "I have been schooled this winter in woman's true vocation, and I am developing into a regular stay-athome-but oh, how I hate it! And if my husband's opinion were asked, he would say he hated it too. When he

was really ill, he appreciated my devotion; now he is nearly well, my constant presence distracts and irritates him. My dear, won't you go out?' he says appealingly. I daren't,' I say with a sigh. That good German lady on the next floor met me yesterday, and condemned the whole English race of wives for being heartless gad-abouts with no idea of cooking, and a supreme indifference to their husband's comfort and happiness.' This said German matron keeps a lynx eye on all my actions and words. I begin to think sometimes that perhaps if one has a bullying nature, it is better to bully outside the home, than in it. I said something of this sort to her, and she threw up her fat hands like a Frenchwoman. 'Ach! what a misfortune for the poor man! His home a house of peace only when it is emptied of his wife!' So you see there are two sides to the question. I hope our chick is not wearing you out. Can instil into her small mind that she must grow up you and cover her mother's delinquencies? What battles royal we should have had together if I had been her nurse. Dear mite, if I were more patient a mother I know I could do more with her. But as I tell you, I am coming back with a host of good resolutions to be put into practice!"

With such letters as these to read and answer, Olive got through her days. And as Ida improved in health