Talking of the flag—last night I was up on the roof, counting the enemy’s fires; everything was very still, and I heard the loose line beating fretfully against the staff in the wind: it brought me back—back! Do you remember Fort Monckton, at Stokes Bay, Rosamond, and the smell of the gorse that day of days to me? The night after, when I could not sleep, I walked the bastion at Monckton and heard the cords of the flagstaff flap. I was to meet you again in the morning—Oh, Rosamond! * * * * * Great news! Cartwright has fought his way to us with his little band. As fine a bit of mountain fighting as has ever been done. We made a sortie to his aid, and only lost four men and a sergeant. Bethune has a piece out of his shoulder, but no bones broken, and Whiteley thinks he’ll be up again in a day or two. It’s like having my right hand in a sling to have the old chap laid up. We’ve got him tight in bed now; and all the fun he is allowed is to watch the bullets that come in through the window and break on the opposite wall. He’s in the safe angle, but it’s rather a job for us dodging in and out to get at him. * * * * * The poor Major’s gone. We feel orphaned. His stout old body seemed to keep the soul of us all together. It was a bullet through the eye. He never even knew it. I was beside him, Rosamond—the laugh was still on his lips. He fell slowly, like a tower. Dear old fat jolly fellow! I won’t grudge him his quick passage. Vane has done nothing but blubber. We buried him in the inner courtyard: they sniped from the crags like blazes, but we did it, and no casualties. Tomorrow ends the first week of the siege proper. We have ten men sick, four wounded, and have lost our major, and all the responsibility devolves upon me now. * * * * * Rosamond, you never loved me. I have blinded myself to it. But here, alone in this fort, with death in every breath I draw, many things have become clear to me. This is the truth: you never loved me, but you are still a child. I could have had such patience, oh, my God!—but now I may have no time left for patience. * * * * *