Napoleon has assured us that repetition is the greatest figure of rhetoric. The stone is worn away by the ever-falling drop of water. Fancy's reiterated phrase fell persistently upon the ice in Susan Yellam's heart and melted some of it, not all.
Upon the Thursday morning the Squire received a letter from the Colonel commanding Sergeant Yellam's battalion. He read it to Lady Pomfret.
"My dear Sir:
"With deep regret I have to inform you of the death of Sergeant Alfred Yellam upon the night of the fifteenth of December. All the facts have come to light, beyond dispute. One of our wounded men has been lying unconscious in our receiving hospital. Last night he became conscious. It seems that Yellam was close to him when a shell from a trench howitzer burst literally upon poor Yellam. According to the evidence of the wounded man Yellam disappeared. That was the last indelible impression of the only witness, who was struck by a splinter from the same shell, and lost consciousness immediately afterwards.
"Sergeant Yellam had earned the affection and confidence of all ranks. He was the type of man we value most, cool in danger, modest at all times, cheerful, energetic and capable. Peace be with him!
"Yours faithfully,
"Courtenay Tring.
"P. S.—The official communication will reach Sergeant Yellam's widow in due course. This letter will precede it, and I leave it to your discretion what to do."
"What shall we do?" groaned the Squire.
Before telling the news to anybody else, Sir Geoffrey walked to the Vicarage. Hamlin read the letter.