A strange scene. General Fielding, with a little crowd of officers around him at one end of the tent, and a little distance away my father lying on a stretcher, with a surgeon on one side striving to stanch the blood which flowed from that hideous, gaping wound, whilst on the other I knelt clasping his hands, and anxiously watching his face. General Fielding had done all in his power. He had read my Uncle Rupert's confession, and had formally rescinded the verdict of General Luxton. The black stain of dishonour no longer rested upon my father's name. But this greatest of joys had surely come too late; for the hand which I held passionately clasped in mine was growing colder and colder every moment, and the surgeon's face was very grave. "Is there hope?" I faltered out. But the doctor shook his head. "Very little, I fear," he whispered. "I am expecting hemorrhage every moment." A deep silence reigned in the tent, a silence which seemed ominously like the silence of death. Suddenly he re-opened his eyes, and a feeling of sickening agony stole over me, for there was a deeper film than ever upon them. He smiled very faintly and struggled to speak, but the words died away on his lips. I bent closer still, and strove to catch his meaning. "Hugh--my--s----" The fingers of his right hand were moving nervously about, and I knew what he meant. "General Fielding," I said, standing up, with hot burning eyes, and with a choking in my throat, "he wants his sword." The General stepped forward, and unsheathing his own, held it by the blade, and my father's long fingers, trembling with eagerness, wound themselves around it. Then he sank back with a little satisfied gasp, and I knew that he was at rest. CHAPTER XLIV "HERO" I had kept my vow, for though I was again within the park of Devereux, and in sight of the grand old mansion, my father was by my side. A splendid constitution had saved him from the very jaws of death, and he had recovered to find his country ringing with his name, and himself a hero. Our journey had been like a triumphal progress. Distinguished men, amongst whom old General Luxton, had met us at London to welcome my father back to his country, and all the way down we had been besieged by newspaper reporters, and little knots of people were gathered on the platform at every station, to gaze at us and shout a welcome; and at the little wayside station such crowds of the country folk were gathered together that progress along the narrow winding lane was almost an impossibility. And now we were at the last sweep of the drive, surrounded by lines of shouting tenants and servants, who stood uncovered as we approached, and made the air vibrate with lusty Yorkshire cheers.