er summer gown.

Close to her side, touching her, stood the young soldier; straight and
tall, with uncovered head, towering above the little group.

The old sisters had parasols, and the canon wore his shovel hat; but
the doctor wasted no time in observing their manifestations of delight
and excitement.

"So my beautiful lady has got her precious boy back safe and sound,
save for his right arm, and doubly precious because that is missing.
God bless her a thousand times!" he thought to himself. "But her sweet
face looked more sorrowful than joyful when I came in. What had he
been saying, I wonder, to make her look like that, _already_?"

John Crewys entered from the hall. "What's this I hear," he said, in
glad tones--"the hero returned?"

"Ay," said the doctor. "Sir Timothy is forgotten, and Sir Peter reigns
in his stead."

"Where is Lady Mary?"

The doctor drew him to the window. "There," he said grimly. "Why don't
you go out and join her?"

"She has her son," said John, smiling.

He looked with interest at the group on the terrace; then he started
back with an exclamation of horror.

"Why, good heavens--"

"Yes," said the doctor quietly, "the poor fellow has lost his right
arm."

There was a sound of distant cheering, and the band could be heard
faintly playing the _Conquering Hero_.

"He said nothing of it," said John.

"No; he's a plucky chap, with all his faults."

"Has he so many faults?" said John.

The doctor shook his head. "I'm mistaken if he won't turn out a chip
of the old block. Though he's better-looking than his father, he's got
Sir Timothy's very expression."

"He's turned out a gallant soldier, anyway," said John, cheerily.
"Don't croak, Blundell; we'll make a man of him yet."

"Please God you may, for his mother's sake," said the doctor; and he
returned to his armchair.

John Crewys stood by the open French window, and drank in the
refreshing breeze which fluttered the muslin curtains. His calm and
thoughtful face was turned away from the doctor, who knew very well
why John's gaze was so intent upon the group without.

"Shall I warn him, or shall I let it alone?" thought Blundell. "I
suppose they have been waiting only for this. If that selfish cub
objects, as he will--I feel very sure of that--will she be weak enough
to sacrifice her happiness, or can I trust John Crewys? He looks
strong enough to take care of himself, and of her."

He looked at John's decided profile, silh