"Could you come round first?" "I could, Mary; but I would rather say good-bye now." "You must say good-bye now, Ronald, and again in the morning. Why I ask you is because I want to tell my father. You don't mind that, do you? He must know there is something, because he spoke to-day as if he would wish it to be as I hoped, and I should like him to know how it is with us. You do not mind, do you?" "Not at all," Ronald said. "I would rather that he did know." "Then I will tell him now," the girl said. "I should like to talk it over with him," and she rose. Ronald rose too. "Good-bye, Mary." "Not like that, Ronald," and she threw her arms round his neck. "Good-bye, my dear, my dear. I will always be true to you to the end of my life. And hope always. I cannot believe that you would have saved me almost by a miracle, if it had not been meant we should one day be happy together. God bless you and keep you." There was a long kiss, and then Mary Armstrong turned and ran back to the hospital. Father and daughter talked together for hours after Mary's return. The disappointment to Mr. Armstrong was almost as keen as to Mary herself. He had from the first been greatly taken by Harry Blunt, and had encouraged his coming to the house. That he was a gentleman he was sure, and he thought he knew enough of character to be convinced that whatever scrape had driven him to enlist as a trooper, it was not a disgraceful one. "If Mary fancies this young fellow, she shall have him," he had said to himself. "I have money enough for us both, and what good is it to me except to see her settled happily in life?" After the attack upon his house, when he was rescued by the party led by Ronald, he thought still more of the matter, for some subtle change in his daughter's manner convinced him that her heart had been touched. He had fretted over the fact that after this Ronald's duty had kept him from seeing them, and when at last he started on his journey down to the coast he made up his mind, that if when they reached England he could ascertain for certain Mary's wishes on the subject, he would himself write a cautious letter to him, putting it that after the service he had rendered in saving his life and that of his daughter, he did not like the thought of his remaining as a trooper at the Cape, and that if he liked to come home he would start him in any sort of business he liked, adding, perhaps, that he had special reasons for wishing him to return.