"The news has come! We are off to the Crimea. I feel that for the first time in my life I am going to have my chance--or, rather, we are going to have our chance, for I shall take you with me, never fear. I wish, dear, your real body were, small enough to go into my knapsack, but the heart that beats under this uniform coat is large enough to hold your love. I must be very busy, but I will find time in a day or two for perfect happiness. "Yours ever, "MARMADUKE. "P.S.--I must get you to box my ears before I go. It will keep me straight and make me what England expects.--M. M. "P.P.S.--Andrew says he is taking my stockings for you to mend. Forgive us poor men bodies.--M." So she sat darning the stockings and trying to prevent a sinking at the heart. From her verandah she could see the bustle and stir in the camp. The next day one of the meadow stretches lay bare of tents. So the work of embarkation must be close at hand. Aye, the bay was thronged with transports! There was a sound of drums and fifes in the air. What room for love and peace when war and strife were afoot? But any moment now might bring Marmaduke, and that was enough for the present. It was on the fourth day, when she was beginning to wonder if possibly he had not found time, that an orderly appeared with a note. It was not from Duke; it was from Andrew. "DEAR MADAM, "Please come. I have sent the Colonel's charger. He will carry a lady. He is very ill." She turned soul-sick as she read. "Is he--is the Colonel very ill?" she asked. "Verra ill indeed, m'm. It's the co-lira, and they're sayin' he's like to dee--God forbid it!" "Like to die!" Well, it was best to know the truth. She put on her European dress and started, remembering as she rode through the flower-set meadows how they had planned this visit to his hut. How she should spend the day there and be introduced to his friends. For though they never spoke of the future or the past, living only in the present heaven, Marmaduke had evidently never considered the possibility of separation and she had been content to let such possibilities slide. And now? She bit her lip to keep it from quivering as Andrew met her. "He's lying in the arbour, m'm. And he's no worse, anyway." Yes, there he was, lying--such a long length--on his camp-bed covered with his plaid. Lying under the arbour of Jonah's gourd, about which he had chattered so gaily as being a laughing-stock to the other officers, though they dearly loved to sit in its shade. The ripe fruit hung scarlet amid the yellowing leaves. It seemed to throw the blue pallor of his face into louder warning that Death was in grips with Life. She knelt beside the bed and took his hand without one word. She had seen too many cholera cases to hope for speech, but the eyelids quivered and the fingers closed on hers. "How long?" she asked.