"Oh, I'm all right," said the young soldier with his fine eyes on the other's face; "but I want to kill somebody, that's all!" "I should have thought you'd done enough of that at the wars," rejoined Carlton, smiling. "Come, George, it's you I want to hear about. Of course I have heard of you. So you enlisted in the Grenadiers, and you got straight to Tel-el-Kebir; and that's the clasp, and not the only one! And now you're a colour-sergeant, and certain of your stripes, they tell me; you're a great hero in the village, George; and yet I have heard them complain that you never even came back to show yourself after the war." "I haven't come back to show myself now, Mr. Carlton." And the young fellow looked rather grim above his brass and scarlet. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." "Nor have you, sir. But can't you guess why I've come back for the first time to-night?" Carlton considered, and suddenly his hollow eyes lit up; but those of the grenadier had lighted first. "Was it--was it really to--to be here to-morrow, George?" "That was it, sir--and nothing else! I'd heard how you were building it up with your own----" "Never mind that, George." "I heard it from Tom Ivey, who found me out in barracks not long since, and gave me all the Long Stow news. That's how I came to hear of the consecration to-morrow. He said he was coming down for it, and I said I would too if I could get leave; and I did; and we've come down together to-night." Neither of them had dreamt of intruding at that hour; but Mellis had seen the old light in the old window, and felt he must just come up to shake hands. Yes, he would come in gladly after church to-morrow. No, he had seen no one else to speak to as yet, except Mrs. Musk; and the grenadier stood confused. "Where did you see her?" "Driving away from the Flint House." "That old woman at this time of night?" "Musk is bad, and she was going for the doctor herself. I offered to go instead, but she had the girl with her, and there was no stopping them." "Bad!" echoed Carlton. "He has been bad for weeks; he may be dying--and all alone!" He dashed from the room, but was back next moment in his wideawake. "I must go to him, George! He will hate it, but I must go. Open the door, and I'll put out the light; if he's dying I shall stay." It was a clear keen night with a worn moon curling in the west; and the hard road rang like a drum as red-coat and black ran elbow to elbow down the village, jerking a word here and there as they went. "Been bad long, sir?" "Sciatica for years; only just taken to his bed." "Sciatica shouldn't kill." "This must be something else. The man is old--and the one enemy I have left!"