"How long ago?"

"Six years on my birthday."

"Was it near Bloemfontein?"

"Yes, in a night skirmish. He is buried there, just where he fell."

"Had he any other relations besides yourself and your mother?"

"Only my grandfather, whom I have never seen."

"And your name?—your name?" cried the colonel, white to the lips with an emotion he could not control.

"Isobel Stewart."


CHAPTER XVIII.
GOOD-BYE.