"I have heard how lovingly she waited on you during your illness and what a kind little sister she is. Never try to wound a tender heart, my boy! It is most cowardly to do that!"
"I suppose you consider me a coward, then?" Donald suggested, rather resentfully.
"I expect you are more thoughtless than cowardly. I understand you wanted to be a soldier?"
"Yes, but I shall never be one now!" The boy's voice was slightly tremulous. "I couldn't do long marches with my lame leg—and I shall always be lame, you know. Oh, it is hard!"
"It is," Captain Basset agreed, "but if it is God's will—" He paused, for the boy had made an impatient gesture, then, after a brief hesitation, he proceeded— "If it is God's will that you should always be lame, do try to bear your cross bravely like a Christian soldier! Think of the many men who have come back from France and Flanders disabled for life—"
"Ah, but they have done some fighting!" Donald broke in. "Every one knows them for brave men!"
At that moment Jane appeared in the hall to sound the supper gong. During supper Donald seemed in a rather subdued frame of mind. May watched him anxiously, but he did not show ill-temper to her again that evening. He was really ashamed that Captain Basset should have overheard his unkind remark to his sister, and ashamed of the remark as well.
It was later than usual when the household at the Glen retired to rest that night, for, as Miss Basset said with a break in her voice, who could tell when they might see dear Paul again? In the drawing-room, after prayers, Josephine sat on a stool at her father's feet, her head resting against his knees. She was silent now. Indeed she feared to speak, for her throat seemed to swell every time she attempted to do so, and she dreaded lest she should burst into tears. Surely the clock on the mantelpiece ticked quicker than usual! How fast the precious minutes flew!
By and by, obeying a meaning glance from Miss Basset, May rose, said "good night," and went off to bed. Donald followed her example shortly afterwards; but Josephine did not move till her father remarked that if she did not go and get a night's good rest she would be "all mops and brooms" in the morning.
"And I want to take away with me the remembrance of your face at its brightest," he added; whereupon she rose quickly, put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then, without one backward glance, left the room.