Then he took her in his arms, and held her very closely. And in another minute he too was gone to the wars, as so many thousands had to go in those stirring days.
It was well that neither he nor she could guess how long a separation might again lie before them. For this was only 1810, and the day which should see Wellington at the head of his victorious Army entering France lay four years ahead.
Four years more also had Colonel and Mrs. Baron to possess themselves in patience, before they could again set eyes on their boy, before they might once more clasp in their arms the little Molly, whom in 1803 they had quitted for one fortnight’s absence.
Jack remained still at Verdun, and before him too stretched four years of unbroken captivity. But Jack, though often disposed to chafe, yet found something wherewith to pass his time. This became gradually clear to Polly and Molly, through letters received at long intervals. At length came one in which Jack gave particulars as to Colonel and Mrs. Baron, and as to the greatly improved condition of prisoners at Verdun, under the new French Commandant. After which he said—
“If ever this gets to England, it is to inform you that I am proposing shortly to become a married man. Lucille has promised to be my wife.”
Molly sat smiling over the notion for a long while.
“Jack was sure to marry,” she remarked in a philosophic tone. “He is of the sort not to be content without. And you and Denham are exceeding happy married, dear Polly. But, as for me, I have no desire that way. Never shall I care for any man in the whole world as I care for Roy.” Then, in words once spoken before, and perhaps often repeated in her own mind since, she added, “And so that matter is for ever settled.”
Whether the matter were finally settled or not, there can be no question that Molly honestly meant what she said.
[THE END.]