The wonder in Dorothea's tone was lost upon the gallant Colonel.
"And you will wait a whole year now! Not write a letter, or—"
"I shall wait till next Christmas," said the Colonel.
Thereupon, he pushed the little messenger of peace into a square envelope, wrote upon it, "Christmas Card—Erskine—" and hid it away in his desk.
"Is Erskine his name?"
"Colonel Erskine. We were in the same regiment. He was my senior, slightly; and I believe, he retired first."
"And now he lives at—"
"Craye. My dear, we have talked long enough. I have no more time to spare," said the Colonel, turning with assiduity to vol. ii. of the Encyclopædia.
Dorothea subsided into her chair and into silence. She was not timid, but she did not wish to worry him. Besides, she had something fresh to think about, in the slow progress of reconciliation between the two veterans. "But to have gone on all these years!" she said to herself. "And I wish my father had been the first to send the card."
