a bride, the jessamine wreath
above her dark eyes, and all the exquisite shapeliness of her slight
form, in the white childish dress of fine Indian muslin, which seemed to
him the prettiest bridal garment he had ever seen. And now--poor little
soul!

'You think she still hopes?'

Bridget shrugged her shoulders.

'She says so. But she has put on mourning at last--a few weeks ago.'

'People do turn up, you know,' said the doctor musing. 'There have been
some wonderful stories.'

'They don't turn up now,' said Bridget positively--'now that the
enquiries are done properly.'

'Oh, the Germans are pretty casual--and the hospital returns are far
from complete, I hear. However the probabilities, no doubt, are all on
the side of death.'

'The War Office are certain of it,' said Bridget with emphasis. 'But
it's no good trying to persuade her. I don't try.'

'No, why should you? Poor thing! Well, I'm off to X---- next week,' said
the young man. 'I shall keep my eyes open there, in case anything about
him should turn up.'

Bridget frowned slightly, and her face flushed.

'Should you know him again, if you saw him?' she asked, abruptly.

'I think so,' said the doctor with slight hesitation, 'I remember him
very well at the wedding. Tall and slight?--not handsome exactly, but a
good-looking gentlemanly chap? Oh yes, I remember him. But of course, to
be alive now, if by some miraculous chance he were alive, and
not to have let you know--why he must have had some brain
mischief--paralysis--or----'

'He isn't alive!' said Bridget impatiently. 'The War Office have no
doubts whatever.'

Howson was rather surprised at the sudden acerbity of her tone. But his
momentary impression was immediately lost in the interest roused in him
by the emergence from the wood, in front, of Nelly and Cicely. He was a
warm-hearted fellow, himself just married, and the approach of the
black-veiled figure, which he had last seen in bridal white, touched him
like an incident in a play.

Nelly recognised him from a short distance, and went a little pale.

'Who is that with your sister?' asked Cicely.

'It is a man we knew in Manchester,--Doctor Howson.'

'Did you expect him?'

'Oh no.' After a minute she added--'He was at our wedding. I haven't
seen him since.'

Cicely was sorry for her. But when the walkers met, Nelly greeted the
young man very quietly. He himself was evidently moved. He held her
hand a little, and gave her a quick, sc