Then I tried to plead Cuthbert's cause, and to tell her how the remembrance of her had been the one thing he clung to through his dark days of imprisonment and pain--the one thing, failing which he would have been glad, for very weariness, to lie down and die. 'If we have failed him--you and I--in these years that he has trusted us--and in my heart I know that I have failed in deed, if not in will--oh Hildred, it is not too late yet. We have time, and Cuthbert trusts us still.' 'You never think of anyone but Cuthbert,' said Hildred, impatiently, unknowing how cruel her words sounded. 'I think of you too, Hildred,' I answered, very sadly. 'I am very sorry for you both.' 'Would Cuthbert mind so very much,' asked Hildred, 'if he knew how long it was before we gave him up?' 'You will never tell him you forgot him,' I said, in terror. She was silent. 'God help him, then. God help us all.' Neither of us spoke for many minutes--slow minutes that were laden with heavy thoughts. At last Hildred looked up to me with a smile that was wonderfully sweet and sad. 'Willie,' she said, 'I wish I could be as strong as you are.' 'You can, Hildred. Oh dear Hildred, you will be if you try.' 'Oh, I am going to try, of course,' she answered, wearily. Cuthbert was standing before the door when I went home. We shook hands and went into the house together, but I had a strange feeling all the time, that I did not know what to say to him. Last night I fancied that my battle was all over, and the victory mine once and for ever. This morning it all began over again, and every word that Cuthbert spoke ruffled me. I felt angry with him for speaking cheerily, and gave all my attention to lighting the fire. He stood leaning his arm on the chimney-piece, and watching me. 'It seems odd to see you doing all the woman's work,' he said. I answered shortly that there was no one else to do it. 'So dear old Granny is gone?' 'Yes, long ago.' 'How long?' 'Oh, two years and more.' 'Dear, kind old Granny. She was very good to me.' I said nothing. 'Do you think your father is getting better?' he asked presently. 'No, I don't. He never will be better.' Cuthbert looked down at me in his old kind way. 'Poor old Will, you have had troubles even here at home.' 'Yes, one doesn't need to go to the wars for that,' I answered. 'And yet I fancied you all so happy here, except that I thought Hildred must fret about me at times. Did she, Will?' 'Of course. Everybody was uneasy about you.' And then I was glad to get away to my father's room. But when I came down Cuthbert would talk of Hildred, and ask questions about her. He seemed to have forgotten the fears he had last night. She had been startled, he said, but it would be all right to-day. And by-and-by he went away to seek her.