close about her loveliness.

CHAPTER XLVII

OF A FEMININE COUNCIL OF WAR

The Sergeant was at all times an early riser, but this morning he was
abroad with the sun itself--a sun whose level beams wrought gloriously
in dew-spangled grass underfoot, in scarlet, pink and flaming gold
overhead and added fresh beauty to herb and leaf and flower; a fair,
fragrant, golden morning where dismal Doubt had no place and Hope
lilted in the joyous pipe of the birds, insomuch that the Sergeant
paused to snuff the balmy air and to glance up at radiant sky and round
about upon radiant earth feeling that life was sweet and held its best
yet in store even for a battered sergeant of forty-three. And standing
thus, his grim features relaxed, and for once in his busy life he fell
to dreaming and forgot awhile the work that had lured him forth so very
early; at length he roused himself and marched across wide lawns and
along yew-bordered walks to his small tool-house, whistling softly as
he went. And now, armed with nail-box, hammer, saw etc., he presently
reached the work--a rustic pergola in course of construction; a very
artful work this, in every respect, requiring many fierce contractions
of the eyebrows, sudden fallings back two paces to the rear with head
jerked suddenly left or right to judge of angle, alignment, nice
proportion and the like.

The Sergeant, whistling still, had driven his first nail and had fallen
back, eyebrows contracted, to judge the effect, when he wheeled
suddenly about and dropped the hammer:

"Sergeant--O Sergeant Zebedee!"

Picking up the hammer, he set off at the double and reaching the
orchard, halted at the foot of the wall, saluted and stared up
wondering at my lady's lovely, anxious face.

"You be early abroad, mam."

"O I was here before dawn--waiting for you. Tell me, is--is the Major
in?"

"The Major, mam? Aye, and sound asleep!"

"Are you sure--quite sure, Sergeant?"

"Sure, my lady. I went in but now to draw his curtains according to
custom and found him sleeping soft as any child, God be thanked. But
why----"

"Because he intends to go away--soon."

"Where to, my lady?"

"Back to the wars."

The Sergeant swore, apologised immediately, and saluted.

"Be you sure, my lady?"

"Quite, O quite, Sergeant."

"But he would never go without me, mam, couldn't possibly--'twould be
agin natur', d'ye see."

"But he will, Sergeant, he hath written me so--he will ride away--