“And I am doubly glad that you have become engaged just now,” she continued. “You will keep him at home, Madge.”
“He has never shown any tendency to roam again,” said Madge, with an inquiring look into Mrs Harland’s eyes. “He has often said that having had his tiger-shooting in Kashmir, he is perfectly satisfied.”
“It was not that sort of shooting that was in my mind,” said Mrs Harland. “But his father was a soldier—my father was a soldier. Look round the hall, Madge—nothing but uniforms in every picture. That is why——”
“You are afraid that if this war breaks out in earnest——”
“That’s it—that’s it. He belongs to a race of soldiers. There has not been a war since Blenheim between England and any other Power in which a Harland and a Severn have not fought.”
“That is a splendid thing to be able to say; and yet Julian was content with his Militia. Isn’t that strange?”
“It was for my sake, dearest Madge. I saw in his face before he was sixteen the old racial longing to be a soldier, and I made an appeal to him. He put his career away from him for my sake, Madge. He promised to stay at home with me in my loneliness.”
“You were able to make such an appeal to him?” There was a suggestion of surprise in the girl’s voice, and it carried with it a curious suggestion of coldness as well.
“Was it selfish of me—was it, Madge? Oh! I dare say it was. Yes, it must have been selfish; but think of my position, dear. He is all I have in the world now. What would life be worth to me if he were away, or if he were in danger? And then, think of his responsibilities. The property is not a large one, and it requires careful treatment. You don’t think that I was unreasonable, Madge?”
“Oh no, no,” said the girl. “You were right, quite right; only——”