Babie confided her feelings to Jock when he escorted her to Church in the evening, and had detected a melancholy sound in her voice which made him ask if she thought Armine's attack of the worst sort.

"Not particularly, except that he talks so beautifully."

Jock gave a small sympathetic whistle at this dreadful symptom, and wondered to hear that he had been able to talk.

"I didn't mean only to-day, but this is only what he had made up his mind to. He never expects to leave Belforest, and he thinks--oh, Jock!--he thinks it is meant to do Bobus good."

"He doesn't go the way to edify Bobus."

"No, but don't you see? That is what is so dreadful. He only just reads with Bobus because mother ordered him; and he hates it because he thinks it is of no use, for he will never be well enough to go to college.

Why, he had this cold coming yesterday, and I believe he is glad, for it would be like a book for him to be very bad indeed, bad enough to be able to speak out to Bobus without being laughed at."

"Does he always go on in this way?"

"Not to mother; but to hear him and Miss Parsons is enough to drive one wild. They went on such a dreadful way yesterday that I was furious, and so glad to get away to Kenminster; only after I had set off, he came running after me, and I knew what that would be."

"What does she do? Does she blarney him?"

"Yes, I suppose so. She means it, I believe; but she does natter him so that it would make me sick, if it didn't make me so wretched! You see he likes it, because he fancies her goodness itself; and so I suppose she is, only there is such a lot of clerical shop"--then, as Jock made a sound as if he did not like the slang in her mouth--"Ay, it sounds like Bobus; but if this goes on much longer, I shall turn to Bobus's way. He has all the sense on his side!"

"No, Babie," said Jock very gravely. "That's a much worse sort of folly!"

"And he will be gone before long," said Barbara, much struck by a tone entirely unwonted from her brother. "O Jock, I thought reverses would be rather nice and help one to be heroic, and perhaps they would, if they would only come faster, and Armine could be out of Miss Parsons's way; but I don't believe he will ever be better while he is here. I think!--I think!" and she began to sob, "that Miss Parsons will really be the death of him if she is not hindered!"

"Can't he go on board the Petrel with Allen?"

"Mother did think of that," said Babie, "but Allen said he wasn't in spirits for the charge, and that cabin No. 2 wasn't comfortable enough."

Jock was not the least surprised at this selfishness, but he said--

"We _will_ get him away somehow, Infanta, never fear! And when you have left this place, you'll be all right. You'll have the Friar, and he is a host in himself."

"Yes," said Babie, ruefully, "but he is not a brother after all. Oh, Jock! mother says it is very wrong in me, but I can't help it."

"What is wrong, little one?"

"To feel it so dreadful that you and Bobus are going! I know it is honour and glory, and promotion, and chivalry, and Victoria crosses, and all that Sydney and I used to care for; but, oh! we never thought of those that stayed at home."

"You were a famous Spartan till the time came," said Jock, in an odd husky voice.

"I wouldn't mind so much but for mother," said poor Barbara, in an apologetic tone; "nor if there were any stuff in Allen; nor if dear Armie were well and like himself; but, oh dear! I feel as if all the manhood and comfort of the family would be gone to the other end of the world."

"What did you say about mother?"

"I beg your pardon, Jock, I didn't mean to worry you. I know it is a grand thing for you. But mother was so merry and happy when we thought we should all be snug with you in the old house, and she made such nice plans. But now she is so f.a.gged and worn, and she can't sleep. She began to read as soon as it was light all those long summer mornings to keep from thinking; and she is teasing herself over her accounts. There were shoals of great horrid bills of things Allen ordered coming in at Midsummer, just as she thought she saw her way! Do you know, she thinks she may have to let our own house and go into lodgings."

"Is that you, Barbara?" said a voice at the Parsonage wicket. "How is our dear patient?"

"Rather better to-night, we think."

"Tell him I hope to come and see him to-morrow. And say the vases are come. I thought your mother would wish us to have the large ones, so I put them in the Church. They are 3."

Babie thought Jock's face was dazed when he came among the lights in Church, and that he moved and responded like an automaton, and she could hardly get a word out of him all the way home. There, they were sent for to Armine, who was sufficiently better to want to hear all about the services, the procession, the wheat-sheaf, the hymns, and the sermons.

Jock stood the examination well till it came to evensong, when, as his sister had conjectured, he knew nothing, except one sentence, which he said had come over and over again in the sermon, and he wanted to know whence it came. It was, "Seekest thou great things for thyself."

Even Armine only knew that it was in a note in the "Christian Year," and Babie looked out the reference, and found that it was Jeremiah's rebuke to Baruch for self-seeking amid the general ruin.

"I liked Baruch," she said. "I am sorry he was selfish."

"n.o.ble selfishness, perhaps," said Armine. "He may have aimed at saving his country and coming out a glorious hero, like Gideon or Jephthah."

"And would that have been self-seeking too, as well as the commoner thing?" said Babie.

"It is like a bit of New Testament in the midst of the Old," said Armine. "They that are great are called Benefactors--a good sort of greatness, but still not the true Christian greatness."

"And that?" said Babie.

"To be content to be faithful servant as well as faithful soldier," said Armine, thoughtfully. "But what had it to do with the harvest?"

He got no satisfaction, Babie could remember nothing but Jock's face, and Jock had taken the Bible, and was looking at the pa.s.sages referred to He sat for a long time resting his head on his hand, and when at last he was roused to bid Armine goodnight, he bent over him, kissed him, and said, "In spite of all, you're the wise one of us, Armie boy. Thank you."

CHAPTER x.x.xII. -- THE COST.

O well for him who breaks his dream With the blow that ends the strife, And waking knows the peace that flows Around the noise of life.

G. MacDonald.

"Jock! say this is not true!"

The wedding had been celebrated with all the splendour befitting a marriage in high life. Bridesmaids and bridesmen were wandering about the gardens waiting for the summons to the breakfast, when one of the former thus addressed one of the latter, who was standing, gazing without much speculation in his eyes, at the gold fish disporting themselves round a fountain.

"Sydney!" he exclaimed, "are not your mother and Fordham here? I can't find them."

"Did you not hear, Duke has one of his bad colds, and mamma could not leave him? But, Jock, while we have time, set my mind at rest."

"What is affecting your mind?" said Jock, knowing only too well.

"What Cecil says, that you mean to disappoint all our best hopes."

"There's no help for it, Sydney," said Jock, too heavy-hearted for fencing.

"No help. I don't understand. Why, there's going to be war, real war, out there."

"Frontier tribes!"