His words were brave, but his performance was weak. His mother came close to him and extended her arms toward him. But Wilfred was a soldier now, and he did not want any scenes. Therefore, with a great effort, he took her hand in as casual a manner as possible, quite like a stranger paying an afternoon call. “How do you do, mother?” he said. “You didn’t expect me back so soon, did you? I will tell you how it was. Don’t you go away, orderly. I will just rest a minute, and then I will go back with you.” Another outburst of the cannon and the frantic pealing of the alarm bells caught his attention. “See, they are ringing the bells calling out the reserves.” He started toward the door. “I will go right now.” “No, no, Wilfred,” said his mother, taking his arm; “not now, my son.” “Not now?” said Wilfred, whose weakness was growing apparent. “Do you hear those—those—those bells and—then tell me not—to go—why——” He swayed and tottered. “Stand by there!” cried the Sergeant. The two men immediately caught hold of him as he fainted. They carried him to the lounge. “Find some water, will you?” continued the Sergeant. “Put his head down, ma’am, and he’ll be all right in a minute. He’s only fainted.” One of the privates who had hurried off in search of water soon came back with a basin full, with which Mrs. Varney laved the boy’s head. “He’ll be all right in a minute,” said the Sergeant. “Come, men.” He turned as he spoke, and, followed by the men, left the room, leaving Mrs. Varney with Wilfred and the orderly. It was the latter who broke the silence. “If there isn’t anything else, ma’am, I believe I’d better report back to the General.” “Yes,” said Mrs. Varney, “don’t wait. The wound is dressed, isn’t it?” “Yes; I took him to the Winder Hospital. They said he would be on his feet in a day or two, but he wants to be kept pretty quiet.” “Tell the General how it happened.” “Very well, ma’am,” said the orderly, touching his cap and going out. The next person to enter the room was Caroline Mitford. The noise of the men searching the house was very plain. Having informed Edith of the meaning of the tumult, she had come downstairs to enquire if they had found Thorne. She came slowly within the door—rather listlessly, in fact. The exciting events of the night in which she had taken part had somewhat sapped her natural vivacity, but she was shocked into instant action when she saw Wilfred stretched upon the sofa. “Oh!” she breathed in a low, tense whisper; “what is it? Is he——” “Caroline dear,” said Mrs. Varney, “it is nothing serious. He isn’t badly hurt. He was cut in the neck and fainted. There, there,”—the woman rose from Wilfred’s side and caught the girl,—“don’t you faint, too, dear.”