Of course she was happy--happy, and with a heart at rest as it had not been for months and months. But still it would be a great comfort when Jervis was up. She hated to see him lying there, helpless, given over to ministrations other than her own.

As she went through the door, the nurse stopped her and said, "Would you go into Mr. Robey's study, Miss Otway? I think Sir John Blake wants to see you before he goes back to town. Mr. Jenkinson has already gone; he had to be there for a consultation at six."

Rose looked at her, a little surprised. It was as if the kind little nurse was speaking for the sake of speaking.

She went down the quiet house, past the door of the large ward where the four other wounded officers now lay, all going on, she was glad to know, very well, and all having had a visit from Mr. Jenkinson, the London specialist.

She hurried on, smiling a little as she did so. She was no longer afraid of Sir John Blake. In fact she was becoming very fond of him, though it hurt her always to hear how sharply and irritably he spoke to his gentle, yielding wife. Of course Lady Blake was very unreasonable sometimes--but she was so helpless, so clinging, and so fond of Jervis.

And then, as she turned a corner--for "Robey's" consisted of three houses, through each of which an intercommunication had been made--there fell on Rose Otway's ear a very dreadful sound, that of some one crying in wild, unbridled grief. The sound came from Mrs. Robey's little sitting-room, and suddenly Rose heard her own mother's voice raised in expostulation. She was evidently trying to comfort and calm the poor stranger--doubtless the mother or wife of one of the four officers upstairs. Two days ago one of these visitors had had something very like a fit of hysterics after seeing her wounded husband. Rose shrank from the memory. But this was worse--far worse. She hurried on into Mr.

Robey's study.

The study, which was a very agreeable room, overlooked the Close. It was panelled with dark old oak, and lined on one side with books, and opposite the centre window hung Mr. Robey's greatest treasure, a watercolour by Turner of Witanbury Cathedral, painted from the meadows behind the town.

To-day Mr. Robey himself was not there, but his brother and Sir John Blake were both waiting for her. Eagerly she walked forward into the room, and as she did so she made a delightful picture--or so those two men, so very different the one from the other, thought--of youth, of happiness, and yes, of young love satisfied.

Sir Jacques took a step forward. The General did not move at all. He was standing with his back to the further window, his face in shadow.

"Now, Miss Rose, I want you to listen very carefully to me for a few minutes."

She looked at him gravely. "Yes?" she said questioningly.

"I have asked you to come," went on the great surgeon, "because I want to impress upon your mind the fact that how you behave at this juncture of his life may make a very great, I might almost say all the difference, to your future husband, to Mr. Jervis Blake."

Rose's senses started up, like sentinels, to attention.

"You will have need of all your courage, and also of all your good sense, to help him along a very rough bit of road," he went on feelingly.

Rose felt a thrill of sudden, unreasonable terror. "What is it?" she exclaimed. "What is going to happen to him? Is he going to die? I don't mind what it is, if only you will tell me!" She instinctively moved over to Sir John Blake's side, and he, as instinctively, put his arm round her shoulder.

"Mr. Jenkinson agrees with me," said Sir Jacques, slowly and deliberately, "that his foot, the foot that was crushed, will have to come off. There is no danger--no reasonable danger, that is--of the operation costing him his life." He waited a moment, and as she said nothing, he went on: "But though there is no danger of his losing his life, there is a very great danger, Miss Otway, of his losing what to such a man as Jervis Blake counts, I think, for more than life--his courage. By that of course I do not mean physical bravery, but that courage, or strength of mind, which enables many men far more afflicted than he will ever be, to retain their normal outlook on life." Speaking more to himself, he added, "I have formed a very good opinion of this young man, and personally I think he will accept this great misfortune with resignation and fort.i.tude. But one can never tell, and it is always best to prepare for the worst."

And then, for the first time, Rose spoke. "I understand what you mean,"

she said quietly. "And I thank you very much, Sir Jacques, for having spoken to me as you have done."

"And now," he said, "one word more. Sir John Blake does not know what I am going to say, and perhaps my suggestion will not meet with his approval. It had been settled during the last few days, had it not, that you and Jervis were to be married before he went back to the Front?

Well, I suggest that you be married now, before the operation takes place. I am of course thinking of the matter solely from his point of view--and from my point of view as his surgeon."

Her heartfelt "Thank you" had hardly reached his ear before Sir John Blake spoke with a kind of harsh directness.

"I don't think anything of the sort can be thought of now. In fact I would not give my consent to an immediate marriage. I feel certain that my son, too, would refuse to take advantage of his position to suggest it."

"I think," said Sir Jacques quietly, "that the suggestion in any case would have to come from Miss Rose."

And then, for the first time, Rose lost control of herself. She became agitated, tearful--in her eagerness she put her hand on Sir John's breast, and looking piteously up into his face, "Of course I want to marry him at once!" she said brokenly. "Every time I have had to leave him in the last few days I have felt miserable. You see, I _feel_ married to him already, and if you feel married, it's so very strange not to _be_ married."

She began to laugh helplessly, and the more, shocked at what she was doing, she tried to stop, the more she laughed.

Sir Jacques came quickly forward. "Come, come!" he said sharply, and taking her by the arm he shook her violently. "This won't do at all----"

he gave a warning look at the other man. "Of course Miss Rose will do exactly what she wishes to do! She's quite right in saying that she's as good as married to him already, Sir John. And it's our business--yours, hers, and mine--to think of Jervis, and of Jervis only just now. But she won't be able to do that if she allows herself to be upset!"

"I'm so sorry--please forgive me!" Rose, to her own measureless relief, had stopped laughing, but she felt oddly faint and queer. Sir Jacques poured out a very small winegla.s.sful of brandy, and made her drink it.

How odd to have a bottle of brandy here, in Mr. Robey's study! Mr. Robey was a teetotaller.

"Would you like me to go up to Jervis now?" asked Sir John slowly.

Sir Jacques looked into the speaker's face. It was generally a clear, healthy tan colour; now it had gone quite grey. "No," he said. "Not now.

If you will forgive me for making a suggestion, I should advise that you and Miss Rose take Lady Blake out somewhere for an hour's walk. There's nothing like open air and a high road for calming the nerves."

"I would rather not see my wife just now," muttered Sir John frowning.

But Sir Jacques answered sternly, "I'm afraid I must ask you to do so; and once you've got her out of doors for an hour, I'll give her a sleeping draught. She'll be all right to-morrow morning. I don't want any tears round my patient."

It was Rose Otway who led Sir John Blake by the hand down the pa.s.sage.

The dreadful sounds coming from Mrs. Robey's sitting-room had died down a little, but they still pierced one listener's heart.

"Do be kind to her," whispered the girl. "Think what she must be going through. She was so happy about him this morning----"

"Yes, yes! You're quite right," he said hastily. "I've been a brute--I know that. I promise you to do my best. And Rose?"

"Yes," she said.

"What that man said is right--quite right. What we've got to do now is to start the boy on the right way--nothing else matters."

She nodded.

"You and I can do it."

"Yes, I know we can--and will," said Rose; and then she opened the door of Mrs. Robey's sitting-room.

At the sight of her husband, Lady Blake's sobs died down in long, convulsive sighs.

"Come, my dear," he said, in rather cold, measured tones. "This will not do. You must try for our boy's sake to pull yourself together. After all, it might have been much worse. He might have been killed."

"I would much rather he had been killed," she exclaimed vehemently. "Oh, John, you don't know, you don't understand, what this will mean to him!"

"Don't I?" he asked. He set his teeth. And then, "You're acting very wrongly!" he said sternly. "We've got to face this thing out. Remember what Sir Jacques said to you." He waited a moment, then, in a gentler, kinder tone, "Rose and I are going out for a walk, and we want you to come too."

"Oh, I don't think I could do that." She spoke uncertainly, and yet even he could see that she was startled, surprised, and yes, pleased.

"Oh, yes, you can!" Rose came forward with the poor lady's hat and black lace cloak. Very gently, but with the husband's strong arm gripping the wife's rather tightly, they between them led her out of the front door into the Close.

"I think," said Sir John mildly, "that you had better run back and get your hat, Rose."

She left them, and Sir John Blake, letting go of his wife's arm looked down into her poor blurred face for a moment. "That girl," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "sets us both an example, Janey."

"That's true," she whispered, "But John?"

"Yes."