“Boris was not dead when that Vedder letter was written. He may not be dead now. He may not be going to die.”
“It is only his wonderful physical strength that has kept him alive so long. Vedder said to me, they looked for his death at any hour. He cannot recover. His wound is a fatal one. It is beyond hope. Vedder wrote while he was yet alive, so that he might perhaps break the blow to his family.”
“What then do you advise me to do?”
“Ragnor intends to go back with you and myself to Edinburgh. He will see your father and offer to buy you a commission as ensign in a good infantry regiment. We will ask your father if he will join in the plan.”
“My father will not join in anything to help me. How much will an ensign’s commission cost?”
“I think four or five hundred pounds. Ragnor would pay half, if your father would pay half.”
Then Ian rose to his feet, and his eyes blazed with a fire no one had ever seen there before. “Bishop,” he said, “I thank you for all you propose, 254 but if I go to the trenches at Redan or the camp at Sebastopol, I will go on John Macrae’s authority and personality. I have one hundred pounds, that is sufficient. I can learn all the great things you expect me to learn there better among the rankers than the officers. I have known the officers at Edinburgh Castle. They were not fit candidates for a bishopric.”
The good man looked sadly at the angry youth and answered, “Go and talk the matter over with Thora.”
“I will. Surely she will be less cruel.”
“What do you wish, considering present circumstances?”