Yet even while she repeats the Biblical phrase aloud, to give it greater solidity, a sense of her own hypocrisy comes hotly home to her. All these things are against her. But is there nothing for her too? Isn’t the May month for her? and the temporary freedom assured to her fifteen minutes ago? and her own heart, capering and curvetting, under all its pack-load of scruples and compunctions? “For” and “against.” In what a double and contradictory sense is she using both prepositions! She pulls herself up muddled and uneasy, yet helped out of her puzzle by the delicious egotistical noise a thrush is making on a bough near by, insisting on telling all passers-by, at the top of his voice, how well his suit has thriven. A phrase out of one of Keats’ Letters recurs to her _àpropos_ of a like feathered Anacreon-- “That thrush is a fine fellow. I hope he has made a good choice this year.” Happy thrush, to be in a position to make a choice! Daily, or almost daily, as have been Lavinia’s visits to the wounded man, she never fails before each one to feel afresh the same almost sick excitement as to the precise method of their meeting. To a not very observant onlooker there would not seem to be much variety in their salutations, but to her now practised eye and ear, there lies an infinite range of gradations between the clouded gladness of his mute, yet how legible, “It is very good of your owner to lend you to me for yet another hour!” and the equally mute uncalculating exultation that knows no to-morrow of “You are here!” To-day she might have spared herself the daily fever of her speculation, since their meeting is to fall out in quite a new manner, and under safe conditions of large chaperonage. Captain Binning is no longer either in bed or in the room which has been the scene of their whole acquaintance. He has been moved several hours ago into the adjoining room, and now lies on a sofa drawn up to the window. He is still pillow-backed and more than semi-recumbent; but he is “up” and the first step has been taken towards the fulfilment of Dr. Roots’ promise. Lavinia’s heart first bounds and then drops stone-like at the sight. Thank God, he has reached the first milestone on the high-road to health and vigour. How many more will take him beyond her ken? No man can fight the enemies of his country in bandages and a nightingale, but from grey flannel to khaki is but a step! Captain Binning is, as one glance at the _mise en scène_ informs her, giving a housewarming in honour of his convalescence. The prudence of the step may be doubted, but that it is being enjoyed by guests and host is indubitable.