Part 55 (1/2)

”Will you marry me the first leave I get, if I live to get any?”

”I'll think about that.”

He gave her the ring she had refused before. Such an absurd little ring, with its one big sapphire set with diamonds, and ”no backing to it,”

Miles said.

And he gave her a very heavy bra.s.s-studded collar for William, and on the plate was engraved her name and address.

”You see,” he explained, ”Miss Ross would never really have him, and I'd like to think he was your dog. And here's his licence.”

Then Miles took her right up in his arms and hugged her close, and set her gently down and left her.

That night he asked his uncle and a brother-officer to witness his will.

He had left most of his money among his relations, but twenty thousand pounds he had left to Meg absolutely, in the event of his being killed before they were married.

His uncle pointed out that there was nothing said about her possible marriage. ”She'll be all the better for a little money of her own if she does marry,” Miles said simply. ”I don't want her to go mourning all her days, but I do want the capital tied up on her so that he couldn't waste it ... if he was an unfortunate sort of chap over money.”

The Squire blew his nose.

”You see,” Miles went on, ”she's a queer little thing. If I left her too much, she'd refuse it altogether. Now I trust to you, Uncle Edward, to see that she takes this.”

”I'll do my best, my boy, I'll do my best,” said the Squire; ”but I hope with all my soul you'll make settlements on her yourself before long.”

”So do I, but you never can tell in war, you know. And we must always remember,” Miles added with his broad, cheerful smile, ”there's a good deal of target about me.”

Miles wrote to the little Major, a very manly, straightforward letter, telling him what he had done, but swearing him to secrecy as regarded Meg.

He also wrote to Jan, and at the end, he said, ”I am glad she is to be with you, because you really apreciate her.”

The one ”p” in ”appreciate” fairly broke Jan down. It was so like Miles.

Meg, white-faced and taciturn, went back to Wren's End on Tuesday night.

The Squire and Lady Mary remained in town.

In answer to Jan's affectionate inquiries, Meg was brief and business-like. Yes; she had seen Miles several times. He was very busy.

No, she did not expect to see him again before ... he left. Yes; he was going with the First Army.

Jan asked no more questions, but was quietly, consistently kind. Meg was adorable with her children and surpa.s.sed herself in the telling of stories.

The First Army left England for Flanders with the silence of a shadow.

But Meg knew when it left.

That night, Jan woke about one o'clock, conscious of a queer sound that she could neither define nor locate.

She sat up in bed to listen, and arrived at the conclusion that it came from the day-nursery, which was below her room.