and I do not think, dear,
notwithstanding all our troubles, that either of us have regretted our
decision."

Then they both rose and solemnly kissed each other over Barbara's head.

CHAPTER V

WEDDED

Next day, oh! joy of joys, Barbara and Anthony met once more after some
fifteen months of separation. Anthony was now in his twenty-fourth
year, a fine young man with well-cut features, brown eyes and a pleasant
smile. Muscularly, too, he was very strong, as was shown by his athletic
record at Cambridge. Whether his strength extended to his constitution
was another matter. Mrs. Walrond, noticing his unvarying colour, which
she thought unduly high, and the transparent character of his skin,
spoke to her husband upon the matter.

In his turn Septimus spoke to the old local doctor, who shrugged
his shoulders and remarked that the Arnotts had been delicate for
generations, "lungy," he called it. Noticing that Mr. Walrond looked
serious, and knowing something of how matters stood between Anthony and
Barbara, he hastened to add that so far as he knew there was no cause
for alarm, and that if he were moderately careful he thought that
Anthony would live to eighty.

"But it is otherwise with his brother," he added significantly, "and for
the matter of that with the old man also."

Then he went away, and there was something in the manner of his
going which seemed to suggest that he did not wish to continue the
conversation.

From Anthony, however, Barbara soon learned the truth as to his brother.
His lungs were gone, for the chill he took in the Crimea had settled on
them, and now there was left to him but a little time to live. This was
sad news and marred the happiness of their meeting, since both of them
were far too unworldly to consider its effect upon their own prospects,
or that it would make easy that which had hitherto seemed impossible.

"Are you nursing him?" she asked.

"Yes, more or less. I took him to the South of England for two months,
but it did no good."

"I am glad the thing is not catching," she remarked, glancing at him.

"Oh, no," he replied carelessly, "I never heard that it was catching,
though some people say it runs in families. I hope not, I am sure, as
the poor old chap insists upon my sleeping in his room whenever I am at
home, as we used to do when we were boys."

Then their talk wandered elsewhere, for they had so much to say to each
other that it seemed doubtful if they would ev