I heard from Lesbia. It was a kind, sad little letter;
she told me she was glad about Sara's engagement, and as they were still
at Hastings she and her mother had called at Warrior Square, and had
found Sara and her _fiance_ together.

'I think it has improved Sara already,' it went on; 'she was looking
exceedingly pretty, and in good spirits, and she seemed very proud of
her tall, grave-looking soldier. Mother and I always liked Colonel
Ferguson. He and Sara are complete contrasts; I think her brightness
and good-humour, as well as her beauty, have attracted him, for he is
honestly in love! I liked the quiet, deferential way in which he treated
her. I am sure he will make a kind husband. Mrs. Garston looked as happy
as possible. I did not see Jocelyn; she was out riding with her father.

'We are going down to dear Rutherford in March, but I have promised Sara
to come up for the wedding. Don't sigh, Ursula: it is all in the day's
work, and one has to do trying things sometimes.

'I have come to think that perhaps dear Charlie is better off where he
is. He was so enthusiastic and so true that life must have disappointed
him. Perhaps I should have disappointed him too; but no, I should have
loved him too well to do that.

'I shall love to be at Rutherford during the spring. Everything will
remind me of those sweet spring days two years ago. Oh, those walks and
rides, and the evening when we listened to the nightingale and he told me
that he loved me! I remember the very patch of grass where I stood. There
was a little clump of alders, and I can see how he looked then. Oh,
Ursula, these memories are very sad, but they are sweet, too; for Charlie
is our Charlie still, is he not?'

'Poor Lesbia!' I sighed, as I folded up her letter and prepared for my
day's work. 'It must be hard for her to witness Sara's happiness, when
her own life is so clouded. Her heart is still true to Charlie; but she
is so young, and life is so long. I trust that better things are in store
for her.'

Miss Locke was recovering very slowly. Years of anxiety and hard work
had overtaxed her strength sorely. Mr. Hamilton used to shake his head
over her tardy progress, and tell her that she was a very unsatisfactory
patient, and that he had expected to cure her long before this.

'If it were not for you and my dear Miss Garston, I should never be lying
here now,' she returned gratefully. 'I must have died; you know that,
doctor; and even now, in sp