sion as the boy made to
our people the first Sunday here, begging them to bear with him."

"Then I can't spare you anything here?"

"Yes, much care and anxiety. The visitation has done its worst in
our house. We have got into the lull after the storm, and you need
not be anxious about me. There is peace in what I have to do now.
It is gathering the salvage after the wreck."

Then Julius went into his own house, where he found Terry alone,
and, as usual, ravenously hungry.

"Is Bowater really ill?" he asked.

"I am afraid there is no believing otherwise, Terry," said Julius.
"You will have to spare Rose to him sometimes, till some one comes
to nurse him."

"I would spare anything to him," said Terry, fervently. "Julius, it
is finer than going into battle!"

"I thought you did not care much for battles, Terry."

"If it was battles, I should not mind," said the boy; "it is
peaceful soldiering that I have seen too much of. But don't you
bother my father, Julius, I won't grumble any more; I made up my
mind to that."

"I know you did, my boy; but you did so much futile arithmetic, and
so often told us that a+b-c equalled Peter the Great, that Dr. Worth
said you must not be put to mathematics for months to come, and I
have told your father that if he cannot send you to Oxford, we will
manage it."

A flush of joy lighted up the boy's face. "Julius, you are a brick
of a brother!" he said. "I'll do my best to get a scholarship."

"And the best towards that you can do now is to get well as soon as
possible."

"Yes. And you lie down on the sofa there, Julius, and sleep--Rose
would say you must. Only I want to say one thing more, please. If
I do get to Oxford, and you are so good, I've made up my mind to one
thing. It's not only for the learning that I'll go; but I'll try to
be a soldier in your army and Bowater's. That's all that seems to
me worth the doing now."

So Julius dropped asleep, with a thankworthy augury in his ears. It
is not triumph, but danger and death that lead generous spirits each
to step where his comrade stood!

CHAPTER XXXII
The Salvage

Frank was certainly better. Ever since that sight of Eleonora he
had been mending. If he muttered her name, or looked distressed, it
was enough to guide his hand to her token, he smiled and slept
again; and on the Sunday morning his throat and mouth were so much
better, that he could both speak and swallow without nearly so much
p