"Poor fellow! poor fellow!" he said; "he looks as if he wanted a woman's hand about him. You would hardly believe, Hilda, that I remember him as one of the golden youth?" "I don't think the carelessness of his attire misbecomes him," I said. "Ah! it has a sad look to me, remembering him so far otherwise." "I always supposed that all scholars were rather dusty. Books are such dusty things." "Linklater was the exception. His wife was a lovely, soft creature, and devoted to him. And the little red-haired girl was a thing of such light and colour that she seemed more like a bird or a flower than a human creature. It is hard to imagine Death stilling all that wild and gracious life." "Or fixing it for ever." "True, my child. He carries the elixir of life if we would only see it. But now, how are you pleased about your own affairs?" "Oh, dear General, how could I be anything but pleased? And I owe it all to you. What a blessed, blessed day it was that brought you to Rose Hill!" "It was blessed for me. I have often since thought it so strange that we should have been brought together, you having known my boy." I said nothing in answer to this, but as we were in a hansom I just pressed my old friend's hand to assure him of my sympathy. Then to distract his mind I told him about Freda, and how I had got to the root of her mystery. He was greatly interested. "She must be a brave creature," he said, "though I think her foolish to have kept you all in the dark. But young people are romantic, and will take views, especially in the matter of self-sacrifice, that we sadder and older ones cannot share. And there was no wilful deception; the thing seems to have grown up of itself. But don't you feel happier, now that your golden castles for her are all in ruins?" "I feel as if my sister had been given back to me," I said, "and if I'm not mistaken, Aline will feel just the same way." "Ah, that's right! Better to have her heart in the right place than to have her a rich woman, eh?" "Much better." "I fancy I knew Mrs. Vincent at one time," he said musingly. "At least I remember meeting the wife of an excellent soldier and good comrade, Ned Vincent, of the Frontier Rifles. I heard he died of fever up-country. I wonder if it could be the same!" "I am sure it is," said I, "for Mrs. Vincent always speaks of 'Ned'." "I had no idea he left his widow poor. Something ought to be done for her if she is Ned Vincent's widow. I wonder if I have enough influence at the War Office to try!" "You had better make sure about her first. Supposing we go to-morrow? I'll send a card to Freda to-night."