"Dear eyes!" she cried impetuously. "Oh, dear eyes! They are the dearest eyes in all the world, whatever anyone says about them. It doesn't matter what you are--you are my Arthur, the best and cleverest brother in all the world. Nobody is like you!" "You have a fine career before you still, my boy! You will always fight, I hope, and conquer enemies even more powerful than armed men!" cried Mrs Asplin, trembling. "There are more ways than one of being a soldier, Arthur!" "I know it, mater," said the young man softly. He straightened his back and stood in silence, his head thrown back, his eyes shining with emotion, as fine a specimen of a young English gentleman as one could wish to meet. "I know it," he repeated, and Mrs Asplin turned aside to hide her tears. "Oh, my pretty boy!" she was saying to herself. "Oh, my pretty boy! And I'll never see him in his red coat, riding his horse like a prince among them all! I'll never see the medals on his breast! Oh, my poor lad that has the fighting blood in his veins! It's like tearing the heart out of him to turn Arthur Saville into anything but a soldier. And the poor father--what will he say at all, when he hears this terrible news?" She dared not trust herself to speak again; the others were too much stunned and distressed to make any attempt at consolation, and it was a relief to all when Mellicent's calm, matter-of-fact treble broke the silence. "Well, for my part, I'm very glad!" she announced slowly. "I'm sorry, of course, if he has to wear spectacles, because they are not becoming, but I'm glad he is not going to be a soldier. I think it's silly having nothing to do but drill in barracks, and pretending to fight when there is no one to fight with. I should hate to be a soldier in times of peace, and it would be fifty thousand times worse in war. Oh, my goodness, shouldn't I be in a fright! I should run away--I know I should; but Arthur would be in the front of every battle, and it's absurd to think that he would not get killed. You know what Arthur is! Did you ever know him have a chance of hurting himself and not taking it? He would be killed in the very first battle--that's my belief--and _then_ you would be sorry that you wanted him to be a soldier! Or, if he wasn't killed, he would have his legs shot off. Last time I was in London I saw a man with no legs. He was sitting on a little board with wheels on it, and selling matches in the street. Well, I must say I'd rather have my brother a civilian, as you call it, than have no legs, or be cut in pieces by a lot of nasty naked old savages." A general smile went round the company. There was no resisting it. Even Arthur's face brightened, and he turned his head and looked at Mellicent with his old twinkling smile.