Personally--and as your commanding officer--I wish you
to understand that I am gratified by your conduct. I have said so
in my official reports."
Berkley's sunken eyes had reverted to the man beside him. After a
moment his lips moved again in soundless inquiry.
Colonel Arran replied: "The Zouaves were very badly cut up; Major
Lent was wounded by a sabre cut. He is nearly well now. Colonel
Craig and his son were not hurt. The Zouaves are in cantonment
about a mile to the rear. Both Colonel Craig and his son have been
here to see you--" he hesitated, rose, stood a moment undecided.
"Mrs. Craig--the wife of Colonel Craig--has been here. Her
plantation, Paigecourt, is in this vicinity I believe. She has
requested the medical authorities to send you to her house for your
convalescence. Do you wish to go?"
The hollow-eyed, heavily bandaged face looked up at him from the
straw; and Colonel Arran looked down at it, lips aquiver.
"Berkley--if you go there, I shall not see you again until you
return to the regiment. I--" suddenly his gray face began to
twitch again--and he set his jaw savagely to control it.
"Good-bye," he said. . . "I wish--some day--you could try to think
less harshly of me.
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