"There are roses on the table and on the mantelpiece," Josephine answered, "and there's a 'Celine Forrester' in bloom against the wall under the window. Uncle John says there is going to be a wonderful crop of autumn roses this year."
"How I shall enjoy them! I shall be able to smell them, and picture them. Ah, Josephine, I have so much to be thankful for! So many have been injured far worse than I have and yet live! Several poor fellows I know have lost their memories, but mine has been spared. I can picture your dear mother as well as though I had seen her yesterday, and Aunt Ann, and Uncle John, and—oh, every one I know! I have many happy memories, thank God, but I think almost the happiest is that of my brave little daughter's face as I last saw it, smiling and—"
"Oh, you don't know how my heart was aching!" Josephine broke in. "It was ever so difficult to keep bright and smile! It's just been one long, hard fight to keep brave ever since I've been here. I didn't want to be a coward—as though I didn't put my trust in God."
Captain Basset laid his hand tenderly on the dark head resting against his knee, and kept it there. For a few minutes there was silence, then he said—
"For a while I shall be rather a useless sort of person, I'm afraid; but by and by I shall grow accustomed to the changed circumstances of my life. Depend upon it all is for the best, little daughter. You and I are trying to fight the good fight; we are soldiers of the King of kings, and soldiers don't ask the why and wherefore, you know—"
He paused as a gentle knock sounded on the door, then called out—
"Come in!"
The door opened, and Miss Basset entered the room. Her glance was very tender as it rested on the father and child.
"I am come to advise you not to talk any longer to-night," she said; "Josephine is looking pale and tired—it has been an exciting day for her—and she ought to go to bed. It's past ten o'clock."
"So late?" exclaimed Captain Basset. "Then say 'good night,' Josephine, and be off!"