as was possible between commander
and subaltern. They had never yet talked it as man to man. When they
did it would be on Archer's initiation, not that of Harris. The more
the old soldier studied the young man the better he liked him. The less
they discussed 'Tonio, the better Harris liked Archer. It was useless
saying more. Harris silently took the chair at his senior's side and
Archer continued:

"If it would contribute to your strength as much as your peace of mind,
I'd send you over in the forbidden ambulance, my boy"--how the voice
trembled at the word that so often, so constantly in bygone days, was
on his lips!--"but Bentley says 'not yet'--not even for a week, so what
can an old fellow do?"

"You are all that is kind--to me, general," was the grave answer, "and
I hope to persuade Bentley before the paymaster goes back. If I do----"

"If you do--that settles it---- What is it, dear?" he asked, half
rising from his chair. Harris was already on his feet. Lilian, all in
white, save the belt at her slim waist, stood at the doorway and had
spoken.

"Dr. Bentley asks that you come to him a moment, father. He is
with--Mr. Willett." She saw who stood there by his side, and it was not
so easy to say "Harold." Harris, bowing, would have backed from the
veranda, but Archer interposed. "No, stay here awhile, lad; I--I want
to talk with you. I'll be back in a moment."

Very possibly he thought he could be. But the moment lengthened. Lilian
had come slowly forth. Something had told her she was neither needed
nor desired in the room just then. Even her mother, silently, had left
the bedside and was hovering about the doorway. And now here was
Harris. Lilian had matured a little, and paled not a little, in these
few days of vigil and anxiety, but she was inexpressibly lovely as she
stood and looked wistfully into his face. "You know he isn't quite so
well to-day?" she said. "There's fever again. He craves ice so. What
wouldn't I--we--give for some? What do you think he called me"--she
gave a queer little nervous laugh--"just a moment ago as I was fanning
him?"

Harris did not answer. He would have hazarded "Sanctissima," possibly,
as he stood there looking intently into her clear, soft eyes, with all
their depth of tenderness and trust. Good God! Why should any man have
to have a past, when love such as this was possible? "He called me
Stella. Mother said he was dreaming of the pet dog he left at
Vancouver, but his eyes