of his ears sturdy defiance
of that parvenu Bonaparte and of his own younger brother who had fallen
fighting for Bonaparte--would have frowned on the descendant who had
filled the house with many guests and paid the bills with mortgages in
the ebbing tide of the family fortunes. But Mrs. Galland saw only a
hero. She shared his prejudices against the manufacturers of the town;
she saw the sale of land to be cut up into dwelling sites, which had
saved the Gallands from bankruptcy, as the working of the adverse fate
of modern tendencies. Even as she had left all details of business to
her husband, so she had of late left them to Marta's managing.

"Edward and I were just engaged before the outbreak of the war," she
proceeded. "How handsome he was in his Hussars' uniform! How frightened
I was and hew proud of his fine bravado when I heard him and a number of
fellow officers drinking here in this room to quick death and speedy
promotion! Do they still have that toast, Colonel?"

"Yes, in some regiments," Lanstron answered. He would not say that what
was good form in the days of the _beau sabreur_ was considered a little
theatrical in the days of the automatic gun-recoil.

"And when he came--oh, when you came home," breathed Mrs. Galland to the
portrait, "with the scar on your cheek, how tanned and strong your hands
were and how white mine as you held them so fast! And then"--she smiled
in peaceful content--"then I did faint. I am not ashamed of it--I did!"

"Without any danger of falling far!" said Lanstron happily.

"Or with much of a jar!" added Marta.

"You prattling children!" gasped Mrs. Galland, her cheeks flushing. "Do
you think that I fainted purposely? I would have been ashamed to my
dying day if I had feigned it!"

"And you did not faint in the presence of the dead and dying!" said
Marta thoughtfully, wonderingly, leaning nearer to her mother, her eyes
athirst and drinking.

"But I believe it is only a wispy-waspy sort of girl that faints at all
these days. They're all so businesslike," said Mrs. Galland--"so
businesslike that they are ceasing to marry."

How many girls she had known to wait a little too long! If anything
could awaken Marta to action it ought to be war, which was a great
match-maker forty years ago. The thought of a lover in danger had
precipitated wavering hearts into engagements. Marta's mood was such
that she received the hint openly and playfully to-day.

"Oh, I don't despair!" she e