ier, wounded, lying upon his back with
his elbows propped beneath him so that he had his head up, looking at
the action, a soldier of a thin long habit of body, a hollow face and
high cheekbones.

Gilian forgot the two old men in the room with him when he looked
intently on this soldier in the throes; he stood up from the chair, went
forward and put a finger as high as he could to point out the particular
thing he referred to. "That's a man," said he, "and he's afraid. He does
not hear the guns, nor the people crying, but he hears the horses' feet
thudding on the grass, and he thinks they will go over him and crush his
bones."

"Curse me," cried the Cornal, "but you have the thing to a nicety.
That's the man's notion, for a guinea, for I have been in his case
myself, and the thud of horses was a sound that filled the world. Sit
down, sit down!" he went on sharply, as if he had of a sudden found
something to reproach himself with in any complacent recognition of this
child's images. "You are not canny; how old are you?"

Gilian was trembling and parched at the lips now, awake to the enormity
of his forwardness. "I am twelve," he repeated.

"It is a cursed lie," said the Cornal hotly; "you're a hundred; don't
tell me!"

He was actually a little afraid of those manifestations, so unusual and
so remarkable. His excitement could with difficulty be concealed. Very
restlessly he moved about in his chair, and turned his look from the
General to the boy and back again, but the General sat with his chin in
his breast, his mind a vacancy.

"Look at the General there; you're fairly scunnering him with your
notions," said the Cornal. "I must speak to John about this. A soldier
indeed! You're not fit for it, lad; you have only the makings of a
dominie. Sit you there, and we'll see what John has to say about this
when he comes in: it is going on seven, and he'll be back from the dregy
in time for his supper."

Gilian sat trembling in his chair; the brothers leaned back in theirs
and breathed heavily and said no word, and never even stretched a hand
to the bottle of spirits. A solemn quiet again took possession of
the house, but for a door that slammed in the lower flat, shaking the
dwelling; the lulled sound of women's conversation at the oven-grate was
utterly stilled. The pigeons came to the sill a moment, mourned and flew
away; the carts did not rumble any more in the street; the children's
chorus was altogether lost. A fe