"He doesn't tell me he is glad to see me," she reflected. "Of course, he hates me now. How can it be otherwise? When we last met, I was just cruel to him, and I hurt him all I was able." "I am so glad you are better," she said aloud. "It's awfully good of you. Won't you sit down?" They might have been mere acquaintances from the way they spoke, but each felt that the moment was tragic. "The doctor tells me that in a week, or a fortnight at the outside, I shall be ready to go back," Bob continued. "There's nothing the matter with me now, except weakness." He knew that all this was not what he wanted to say, or what he ought to say, but somehow the right words would not come. He felt awkward and constrained in her presence. "If she's engaged to Trevanion," he reflected, "it must be painful for her to see me. I wonder if she knows nothing about Trevanion. I wonder if--if she knows what I did." Nancy did not sit down as he had asked her, but stood awkwardly; she was picking a scrap of lint to pieces, nervously, and with twitching fingers. "Bob," she said presently, "I want you to forgive me. I insulted you down in Cornwall--you remember that night at the Public Hall. You see, I didn't know that you intended to enlist." "I didn't," replied Bob; "nothing was further from my mind than enlisting at that moment." Everything seemed unreal between them. Neither of them was saying what was in their hearts; they seemed to be speaking only for the purpose of making conversation. "Have you seen Captain Trevanion?" he asked, after an awkward silence. "I heard--that is, I was given to understand, he was wounded; not dangerously, you know, but still, wounded. The doctor assured me he would get better." He saw a quick flush rise to the girl's pale face, as he spoke; he saw her lips tremble too, but she did not answer him. His heart became as heavy as lead: "Then it is true," he reflected. "Mother was right; they are engaged. Still, I must bear up as best I can. I will not give her pain by telling her what it means to me." "Oh, Bob, will you forgive me?" she burst out suddenly. "I--of course, there's nothing to forgive," he answered. "What have I to forgive?" "I called you a coward," she cried; "I insulted you, and all the time you were braver than I dreamed of. Why, you actually saved him, and in doing so you risked your life in the most horrible way. It was wonderful of you--just wonderful; and I--I---- Oh, I'm so ashamed, Bob!" "I see what she means," thought Bob; "she's trying to tell me how thankful she is to me for having saved her lover for her." "I hope you are not worrying about that," he said, and by this time he was able to speak calmly. "I was awfully lucky, and, after all, it was not so difficult; I came back quite safe--not a shot touched me."