'And the battles are to be fought all over again,' she said, clasping her hands on her knees, and then plied Wogan for more details. She shivered at the thought of wounds and cannon-balls and swords, yet she must know to the very last word all that was to be described of them. So, until the sun sank behind the low green hills of the Cevennes, and the Rhone at their feet, in that land of olives, took on a pure olive tint. Then she rose and went into the house to prepare the supper, leaving the two friends together; and it presently appeared that Rose Townley was not the only one who was frightened. The Parson watched her as she went down the garden, brushing the pink blossoms from the boughs of a peach tree or two that grew on the lawn. There was an old moss-grown stone sundial close to the house; she paused for a moment beside it to pick up a scarf which was laid on the top and so passed through the window, whence in a moment or two a lamp-light shone. The Parson seemed sunk in a reverie. 'I am afraid, Nick,' he said slowly. 'I am afraid.' 'What! You too?' exclaimed Wogan. 'Afraid of the wars?' 'The wars--no, no,' replied Kelly scornfully dismissing the interpretation of his fears, and then following out his own train of thoughts, 'you have known her a long time, Nick?' 'Six years.' 'I would that I too had known her six years ago,' said the Parson with a remorseful sigh. 'She has changed in those six years.' 'How?' 'Why, she has grown a foot, and grown a trifle shy.' 'Ah, but that's only since--' began the Parson with a nod, and came to a sudden stop. Rose's shyness was the outcome of her pride. She was shy just because she knew that she loved a man who had breathed no word of love to her. Mr. Kelly sat for a little longer in silence. Then, 'But I am afraid, Nick,' he repeated, and so went down into the house leaving Nick in some doubt as to what he was afraid of. The Parson repeated his remark the next morning after breakfast. Mr. Wogan was smoking a pipe upon the wall; the Parson was walking restlessly about as he spoke. 'I am afraid,' said he, and looks towards the house. As soon as he looked, he started. So Wogan looked too. Rose Townley had just come from the window and was walking across the lawn more or less towards them with an infinite interest and attention for everything except the two figures on the city wall. 'She comes slowly,' said Kelly in a great trepidation, as though he had screwed up his courage till it snapped like a fiddle-string. 'She is lost in thought. No doubt she would not be disturbed,' and he glanced around him for means of escape. There was, however, only one flight of narrow steps from the wall down to the garden; and if he descended that he would be going to meet her. Wogan laughed. 'She comes very slowly,' said he. 'No doubt she saw you from the window.' 'It is plain she did not,' replied the Parson, 'for, as you say, she comes very slowly.'