"Yes," answered Colonel Fortescue, his pity divided among Lawrence and
his wife, and the honest, well-meaning McGillicuddy, who had brought
about a catastrophe.

"For God's sake, sir," said McGillicuddy, "wiping his forehead, be as
easy on Lawrence as you can, and give me a day--two days--leave to hunt
him up."

This the Colonel did, warning McGillicuddy not to repeat what had
occurred on the aviation plain.

The Sergeant got his leave, and another two days, all spent in hunting
for Lawrence. There was nowhere for him to go except to the little
collection of houses at the railway station. No one had seen Lawrence
board the train that passed once a day, but a man, even in uniform, can
sometimes slip aboard a train without being seen. The Sergeant came
back, looking woe-begone, and Lawrence was published on the bulletin
board as "absent without leave."

The shock of Lawrence's departure quite overcame his unhappy wife. She
took to her bed and had not strength to leave it.

Sergeant McGillicuddy begged that he might be allowed to tell to the
chaplain the provocation he had given Lawrence, who might tell Mrs.
Lawrence. The blow struck by Lawrence was the act of a mad impulse,
and having struck an officer, Lawrence might well fear to face the
punishment. This the Colonel permitted, and the chaplain, sitting by
Mrs. Lawrence's bed, told her of it, and of Sergeant McGillicuddy's
remorse. Until then, Mrs. Lawrence, lying in her bed, had remained
strangely tearless, although a faint moan sometimes escaped her lips.
At the chaplain's words she suddenly burst into a rain of tears.

"My husband never meant to desert," she cried between her sobs. "He
was doing his duty well--his own Sergeant said so. He must have been
crazy when he struck the blow!"

"Poor McGillicuddy," said the chaplain quietly. "The Colonel has
forbidden him to speak of it to any one, and he is breaking his heart
over it."

No word of forgiveness came from Mrs. Lawrence's lips.

"It is the way with all of them, officers and men, they were all down
on my husband because they thought he had done something wrong," said
Mrs. Lawrence, with the divine, unreasoning love of a devoted woman.

"Mr. Broussard was not down on your husband," said the chaplain.

"True," replied Mrs. Lawrence, and then shut her lips close. If any
one wished to know the secret bond between Broussard and Lawrence, one
could never find it out from Mrs. Lawrence.

Sergea