"The war will continue," he said, "and Willis may win a commission. The difference between a lieutenant and a sergeant is greater in pay than in qualification; in fact, a good orderly-sergeant is a rarer man than a good captain. Let Willis have his commission. Let that be his ambition, if he persists in murdering people." The Doctor was yet writing busily. I wondered whether his words were intended as a hint for me to speak to Willis; of course I could do nothing of the kind. I felt that this whole affair was very delicate. Willis had gone so far as to make me infer that he was very much afraid of me: why? Could it be possible that he saw more than I could see? No, that was a suggestion of mere vanity; he simply dreaded Dr. Khayme's well-known partiality for me; he feared, not me, but the Doctor. I was uneasy. I examined myself; I thought of my past conduct in regard to Lydia, and found nothing to condemn. I had been rather more distant, I thought, than was necessary. I must preserve this distance. "Doctor," said I, "good-by till to-morrow; I shall stay with the company to-night." He looked up. "You will see Willis?" "Yes, sir; I suppose so." "You might say to him, if you think well, that I thought he left us rather abruptly to-day, and that I don't think he is very well." "I hope to see you again to-morrow, Doctor." "Very well, my boy; good-by till to-morrow; you will find me here by ten o'clock." When I reached the company I did not see Willis; he was off on duty somewhere. On the next morning, however, he came in, and everything passed in the friendliest way possible, at first. Evidently he was pleased with me for absenting myself from Lydia. But he soon learned that I was to return to the Sanitary Camp, and his countenance changed at once. "What am I to think of you?" he asked. "I trust you will think well of me," I replied; "I am doing you no wrong. You are not well. The Doctor noticed it." "He said that I was not well?" "Yes." "Well, he is wrong for once; I am as well as I ever was in my life." "He said you left very suddenly yesterday." "I suppose I did leave suddenly; but I saw no reason to remain longer." "Willis," said I, "let us talk seriously. Why do you not speak to Miss Lydia and her father? Why not end this matter one way or the other?" "I haven't seen Miss Lydia since you left us in February," said he; "how can I speak to her?" "But you can speak to Dr. Khayme." "Yes, I could speak to Dr. Khayme, but I don't consider him the one to speak to first, and to tell you the truth I'm afraid of it. It's got to be done, but I feel that I have no chance; that's what's hurting me." "Then I'd have it over with, as soon as possible," said I. "That's easier said than done; but I intend to have it over; it's doing me no good. I wish I'd never seen her." "Why don't you write?" "I've thought of that, but I concluded I wouldn't. It looked cowardly not to face the music."