"The world saves all its honours for its soldiers," said Neil, smiling. "In uniform," said Sir Denton, "and does not recognise the fact that we, too, are soldiers, fighting the invisible enemy, Death." "There, say no more, my dear old tutor," cried Neil eagerly. "I have made up my mind to go, accepting all risks, and I hope I shall fulfill your wishes and prove worthy of your trust." "I have no fear of that, Elthorne, my dear boy. I know you too well. You will go, and your going will be the saving of thousands of lives in the future, while as to yourself, disease generally passes by the busy, active, and careful. You will go, then?" "There is my hand." Sir Denton grasped the young surgeon's hand warmly. "God bless you, my boy, and your work!" he said, with his voice slightly husky. "But now tell me of yourself. This sudden change of front? The lady--she has refused you?" Neil nodded and remained silent for a few moments. Then, turning, with a sad smile on his face: "It was only a vain dream, my dear old friend. I loved, and forgot, in my blindness, that I was not a frank, handsome man of the world; that I was only a dull, thoughtful student, with few of the qualities that please women. She would have none of me, and perhaps she was wise." "No," said Sir Denton sharply; "there was no wisdom in the woman who would refuse you. Some giddy, dress-loving, shallow creature, who--" Neil held up his hand. "No," he said fervently. "The wisest, sweetest, and most refined lady that ever breathed." "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Denton. "I was glad a few minutes ago, for I thought you had had an escape; that, like so many more able men, you had been dazzled by the outside of some bright, fashionable butterfly. Now I can condole with you. Then there must have been a reason--another was in the way?" Neil was silent. "Ah, that is bad. Well, out of the bad good often comes, my dear boy. You see how fatherly I have grown toward you, Elthorne; and some day I may, after all, be able to congratulate you on a happy union." "Never, sir." "Who knows?" said the old surgeon, smiling. "Well, I am no matchmaker, only your old friend and master, and I speak very plainly to you. Do you know, Elthorne, that there is one woman in the world whom I have often thought should be your wife?" Neil looked at him wildly. "A refined, graceful lady, with a heart of gold, if you could win her. I have seen little things, too, at times, which have made me think that my hopes would bear fruit." Neil half turned away, and the old man sat tapping the top of his hat with the tips of his thin, white fingers, as he went on dreamily. "I ought not to have given my mind to such matters, but the thoughts came unbidden, and I said to myself, it would be the perfection of a union; and, old bachelor as I am, I would have given her away as if she had been my own child."