The Democratic advocate., 1894-08-18

| Capt Pelham would be recommended for
the Victoria Cross, which he had so thor
oughly deserved.
The following morning the Times brought
more news to the riverside cottage-fuller
details of the episode which was of great
interest TO its occupants-and this time the
name of the sergeant who had been so dan
gerously wounded and only saved from
death by the valor Of her lover met Miss
Malone's eyes She had known by some
strange instinct what it would be, and that
evening, when she sat by her open window
inhaling the perfume of thousand roses
and listening to the gentle tapping of the
water against the banks, she wrung her
hands tightly together, and said, half aloud:
''Oh, why is one man to have all, and
the other nothing-nothing till he dies p
CHAPTER ".
In the early spring Capt. and Mrs. Vim
cent Pelham spent their honeymoon in
charming gabled house looking over wide
downs and noble white cliffs in the isle of
Wight. The property belonged to an un-
Gle of the bridegroom, and would in time,
with many another good thing, become
Vincent's own. The fresh breeze from
the chalk slopes brought new roses to
Kitty's cheeks, and they had been little
pale for some months past. People noted
with admiration how much affected she had
appeared at her husbands illness, how
proud she was of his success. And, with
out doubt, she was striving earnestly to
make him happy. She struggled to over,
come the phases of melancholy to which
she was sometimes subject, to take an in-
terest in many matters, dull enough as they
seemed to her, because they made up part
of his life And Vincent, if at times in
his inmost heart he was little mortified at
her apparent indifference to the extreme
good fortune that was hers, could not but
acknowledge that she was sweeter and gen
tier than when he had first won her, and
that she hadlost the slight tinge of fippaney
that had sometimes annoyed him against
his will. The pair had come into the gar
den one sunny evening after long walk
by white precipice which stands gigantic
and perpendicular out of the slate-colored
sea. Mr.. Malone had just arrived to pay
a visit of few days to his children, and
was in sentimental and extremely happy
condition. He sat in low chair, and
awaited them as they came sauntering over
the downs, their figures silhouetted against
the purple west. AT Mr.. Malone's feet
all around him were large fower-beds of
dazzling blue forget-me-nots, brighter than
the distant sea, and the faint azure patches
in the eastern heavens. Kitty came up to
her father and, throwing one slender arm
about his neck, kissed him lovingly.
'It is so nice to have you with us, papa
dear"
'And nicer still for me to be with my
children-my little girl and her hero"
Capt. Pelham began making holes in the
gravel with his walking-stick. He was
more ofa gentleman than his father-iu-law,
and had an almost morbid dislike to hear
ing illusions to his past acts of daring, re-
ferences which were always coupled with
smile of triumph for his father-in-law. Mr..
Malone would have been unable to appre-
ciate such fine gradations of feeling. He,
for his part, delighted in recurring again
and again to the war and its episodes, and
in Fostering Vincent with questions. After
tea had been drunk out of doors, the good
old man again referred to his fayorite topic.
"And what has happened now, Vincent,
my dear boy, to the sergeant, poor fellow,
whose life you were so nobly the means of
saving?"
Kitty looked away at the glimmering
white cliffs and the expanse of placid sea.
"Oh, poor fellow, he's at Netley still, just
across the water over there. I'm afraid
he's done for. It's hard luck, because he's
a gentleman, and might have got a COM
mission one of these days"
There was short silence; then black
bird chirped loudly and flew over the lawn
into the bushes, while the crescent moon
came slowly into view over the cliffs.
Kitty spoke in hard, dry voice.
Couldn't we go, Vincent, one day, over
to Netley, and see that poor man?"
"My dear child, what earthly use would
it be? | did see him once or twice, you
know. And he's thoroughly well looked
after You certainly have morbid taste
for gloomy things"
"But it might be kind; don't you think
so, papa? II should so like to take him
some flowers
"Well, my dear, surely Vincent knows
best. 1t would upset you, no doubt to see
all those poor fellows, sick and wounded"
CHAPTER V.
The soldier at the end of the ward had
not spoken for twenty-four hours.
Sinking fast, said the doctor to Sis
ter, who wore spotless white apron and
scarlet cape over her shoulders, and who
had just left the bedside
81 fear SC" Sister MacDonald's sweet
face grew sad, and she sighed She had
felt very sorry for Color-Sergt. Rhodes,
and had nursed him tenderly during many
dreary months of pain and discomfort
But she grieved less now that the inde-.s
scribable blue shade was spreading at last
over his face-that his eyes were sLat, and
the perspiration lying cola on his forehead.
He was so lonely, and it was better that I
he should .ge, thought Sister Macdonald
Other men had friends TO come and Sit
beside them-old and young wome2. with
tender and fearful eyes, and faSsaehEeu faSalh 6ands
to grasp theirs, but no one ever Tame to
see Color-Sergt. Rhodes, excepting now
and then an officer or old comrade Of his
battalion. And lately even these had
seemed to forget him.
When the post came in that evening
the Sister found, rather to her surprise,
that there was one letter at last for her
favorite sergeant. She took it up to his
bedside. He was breathing heavily, and
his hand, when she touched it, was very
clammy and cold.
ga letter for you" she said in low
voice.
He lifted his eyelids little, but made
no other movement.
"Shall I open the cover and give you
the letter? p
His lips moved, and she tore open the
nnn IL nnntninaI M .ur;.;r,.. nfao. III