be among the wounded soldiers," said she, her
face brightening. "It did make me very happy to sit by your
bedside and do for you."

There was a very tender look in her eyes then.

She started to rise. A brier, stirring in the breeze, had fallen
across her hair. She let me loose the thorns, and, doing so, I
kissed her forehead--I could not help it.

"M'sieur!" she exclaimed in a whisper. Then she turned quickly
away and stood tearing a leaf in her fingers.

"Forgive me!" I pleaded, for I saw she was crying. "It was the
impulse of a moment. Pray forgive me!"

She stood motionless and made no answer, I never felt such a stir
in me, for I had a fear, a terrible fear, that I had lost what I
might never have again.

"It was honorable admiration," I continued, rising to my full
height beside her. "Tell me, ma'm'selle, have I hurt you?"

"No," said she, in a voice that trembled. "I am thinking--I am
thinking of somebody else."

The words, spoken so slowly, so sweetly, seemed, nevertheless, to
fly at me. "Of somebody else!" Whom could she mean? Had her
sister told her? Did she know of my meeting with Louison? I was
about to confess how deeply, how tenderly, I loved her. I had
spoken the first word when this thought flashed upon me, and I
halted. I could not go on.

"Ma'm'selle," I said, "I--I--if it is I of whom you are thinking,
give me only your pity, and I can be content. Sometime, perhaps, I
may deserve more. If I can be of any service to you, send for
me--command me. You shall see I am not ungrateful. Ah,
ma'm'selle," I continued, as I stood to my full height, and felt a
mighty uplift in my heart that seemed to toss the words out of me,
"I have a strong arm and a good sword, and the love of honor and
fair women."

She wiped her eyes, and turned and looked up at me. I was no
longer a sick soldier.

"It is like a beautiful story," she said thoughtfully; "and
you--you are like a knight of old. We must go home. It is long
past luncheon hour. We must hurry."

She gave me her arm up the hill, and we walked without speaking.

"I am very well to-day," I remarked as we came to the road. "If
you will wait here until I get to the big birch, I shall go around
to see if I can beat you to the door."

"It is not necessary," said she, smiling, "and--and, m'sieur, I am
not ashamed of you or of what I have done."

The baroness and Louison had not yet returned. M. Pidgeon was at
luncheon with us