ell!" he said, as if he had encountered a
difficulty. "It--it will never be possible. He would not marry her," he
added, and then, turning, went abstractedly down the stairs.

Ferrol was in a deep sleep when Christine and her brother entered the
chamber. Her face turned still more pale when she saw him, flushed, and
became pale again. There were leaden hollows round his eyes, and his
hair was matted with perspiration. Yet he was handsome--and helpless.
Her eyes filled with tears. She turned her head away from her brother
and went softly to the window, but not before she had touched the pale
hand that lay nerveless upon the coverlet.

"It's not feverish," she said to Nic, as if in necessary explanation of
the act.

She stood at the window for a moment, looking out, then said:

"Come here, Nic, and tell me all about it."

He told her all he knew: how he had come to the old house by appointment
with Ferrol; had tried to get into the store-room; had found the doors
bolted; had heard the noise of a wild animal inside; had run out, tried
a window, at last wrenched it open and found Ferrol in a dead faint. He
went to the table and brought back the broken bayonet.

"That's all he had to fight with," he said. "Fire of a little hell, but
he had grit--after all!"

"That's all he had to fight with!" she repeated, as she untwisted
the handkerchief from the hilt end. "Why did you say he had true
grit--'after all'? What do you mean by that 'after all'?"

"Well, you don't expect much from a man with only one lung--eh?"

"Courage isn't in the lungs," she answered. Then she added: "Go and
fetch me a bottle of brandy--I'm going to bathe his hands and feet in
brandy and hot water as soon as he's awake."

"Better let mother do that, hadn't you?" he asked rather hesitatingly,
as he moved towards the door.

Her eyes snapped fire. "Nic--mon Dieu, hear the nice Nic!" she said.
"The dear Nic, who went in swimming with--"

She said no more, for he had no desire to listen to an account of his
misdeeds, which were not a few,--and Christine had a galling tongue.

When the door was shut she went to the bed, sat down on a chair beside
it, and looked at Ferrol earnestly and sadly.

"My dear! my dear, dear, dear!" she said in a whisper, "you look so
handsome and so kind as you lie there--like no man I ever saw in my
life. Who'd have fought as you fought--and nearly dead! Who'd have had
brains enough to know just what to do! My darling, t