illicuddys, the
little Lawrence boy, and the After-Clap, none of whom could have got on
without her. Colonel Fortescue, coming out of the headquarters
building, and going to his own house, passed Mrs. Lawrence, sitting on
the bench. The Colonel, who knew her well enough by sight, raised his
cap and, stopping a moment, asked courteously after her health.

"I am better," replied Mrs. Lawrence, "and I want to thank you for your
kindness in letting me stay in the quarters. I will not trespass any
longer than I can help."

"May I ask," said the Colonel, kindly, "if you have any friends with
whom I could help you to communicate?"

Mrs. Lawrence smiled as she answered:

"I have relatives, if that is what you mean. But I do not care to
communicate with them. Please understand me that I do not, for a
moment, admit that my husband is a deserter."

"I wish I could think he was not," said Colonel Fortescue, "but
unfortunately, his misconduct----"

Colonel Fortescue caught himself; he had done what he seldom did--used
the wrong word. Mrs. Lawrence struggled feebly to her feet, the divine
obstinacy of a loving woman shining in her melancholy eyes.

"Stop!" she cried, "I can't allow any one, even the Colonel of the
regiment, to disparage my husband before my face."

"I beg your pardon," said Colonel Fortescue, "I regret the word I used."

Mrs. Lawrence, inclining her head, sank, rather than sat, upon the
bench.

"Perhaps I should not have spoken so," she said, in a composed voice,
"as my husband was only a private, and you are the Colonel; but I think
you understand that I was neither born nor reared to this position."

"I do understand," replied Colonel Fortescue, "and some one has done
you a very great wrong in bringing you to this post; but you may depend
upon it that neither you nor your child shall suffer for the present,
and I hope you will soon be well."

[Illustration: "Neither you nor your child shall suffer for the
present."]

"It is my heart that is more ill than my body," replied Mrs. Lawrence,
and the Colonel passed on.

The tragedy of a desertion is very great, and as Colonel Fortescue
said, tragedies grow more intense in the fierce cold of winter, and
Mrs. Lawrence and the beautiful little boy were, in themselves, living
tragedies. Sergeant McGillicuddy, too, had a tragic aspect. In spite
of all the Colonel could say, the Sergeant still accused himself of
being the cause of Lawrence's desertion