himself on a crutch, and had his left arm in a
sling. The young lady touched the arm of
the senior, and drew her veil over her face.
The officer looked round, but no preparation
had been made for his conveyance. No
mother was in waiting with easy-hung
coach. "Get a cab there for Major
Donnington!" cried a rough voice from the
paddle-box: but the old lady stepped
forward, and said to the almost fainting soldier,
"'Deed Major Donnington, ye'll hae nae cab,
and gang to nae hotel. Ye'll just come to our
branch o' the Crimean Hospital, and ye'll no
want for nurses or ony care that a mother
could gie ye."

The wounded man considered that this
was a piece of careful sympathy from an
active and paternal administration, and
submitted to his fate with resignation. Accordingly
he was installed in a carriage standing
near the gate, and driven off— and off,
through streets, and out among trees, till he
entered a moderate sized avenue and pulled
up at the door of a pretty looking villa about
two miles from the town upon the shore of
Southampton Water. There he was soon
shown into his apartment by the ladies, who
had followed in another conveyance; and as
medical assistance was kept in waiting, the
extent of his wounds was ascertained and a
speedy recovery promised. A bayonet stab
in the left shoulder, and a bullet in the knee,
were the memorials he carried away of the
"Soldier's Victory." But a grateful country
was ready to pour balm in his wounds.
Wasn't he in a charming hospital, with a
beautiful view from the window, the nicest,
cleanest curtains for his bed, the best doctor
in the county of Hants to attend to his
recovery, and, nurses so kind, so obliging, so
sweet-toned and tender-handed, that it was
a positive gratification to be ill? His servant
arrived a short time after him with his
luggage; his things were put away in convenient
drawers, book-shelves in the neighbouring
chamber, to which he was to be removed
when well enough to sit up, were filled with
pleasant volumes; and in a room beyond, he
occasionally in the absence of the younger
nurse, heard a clear beautiful voice
accompanied by a piano. But in spite of all this
care of a watchful government the young
man felt deprest at the thought that he was
causing so much trouble to two amiable
ladies upon whom individually he had no
claim. He was anxious to make all manner
of inquiries, and was profuse in his
acknowledgment for all their care. And at first,
notwithstanding the doctor's prognostic, their
care seemed of no avail. A fever supervened,
during which fancy played its usual tricks,
and arrayed itself in the lost robes of
memory; and in his wanderings there was a
curious mixing up of Indian recollections and
the scenes he had had in Scotland with his
mother. When he recovered sufficiently to
be read to, the younger attendant sat at the
side of his bed, and it seemed something like
a continuance of his feverish aberration
when her gentle words fell upon his ear, for
the volumes she chose were Orme's History
of Hindostan, and the Life of Warren
Hastings, and the story of the Blackhole.

"Mrs. M'Vicar," said the soldier, after one
of these readings, "will you answer me a
question or two? And first, do you think I
am perfectly recovered from delirium?"

"Ye'll maybe be the best judge o' that,
yersel," was the cautious answer of the
elder nurse.

The young man pavised and seemed engaged
in a minute inspection of the state of his own
brain. "Who is the young lady who hovers
over my bed, and reads in such musical
accents that I sometimes even now doubt
whether she isn't altogether an angel?"

"Her name is Miss Preedy — an English
sister of charity, and I'm a mither o' the
same."

"And does she always wear a veil over
the upper part of her face?"

"Oh, no."

"She doesn't squint, does she?" inquired
the Major, as a horrible suspicion crossed
his mind that this might be the reason of the
concealment of brow and eyes.

"I daursay, ye'll see and judge for yersel in
that too," replied Mrs. M'Vicar; "but I
suppose you'll soon be thinking of leaving
the hospital. You must be anxious to get
home."

The officer sighed sadly. "The fact is," he
said, "I have no home— I lost my mother
nine or ten years ago, and have been in
India ever since, till we were sent out to the
Crimea. I have no home." It seemed so
melancholy a confession that they were both
silent for a time, —" But I hope to get well
again soon," he added, "and go out to join
my regiment. What does the doctor say
now?"

The doctor's report was hopeful. In a week
he sat up, in a fortnight he entered the little
apartment next his bed-room, and in three
weeks he was invited to the drawing-room.
It was gratitude, probably, that made him
think Miss Preedy so wonderfully beautiful.
Light hair and dark blue eyes, a clear
complexion, and the finest carved features with
the sweetest smiling mouth, were enough to
justify his admiration; but when he united
to this amount of loveliness all her kindness,
the care she had bestowed on his comforts,
the hours she had devoted in the half-darkened
room, to his amusement, there is no
wonder that his feelings of gratitude took a
far warmer shape, and, in short, that he was
in love; madly, desperately. Yes, desperately,
for how would it look in the announcement,
that a wounded officer had married the
hospital attendant? and would a real sister
of charity descend from the poetic dignity of
her great and generous work to bestow her
hand upon a patient? Besides, there are