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Show THE RELIEF FORCE. i J Aci -s Waterloo Bridge the wind was strong and "" and the Colonel must hold his battered I old 1. ' o:; his head. There was the dark river, the I last : T" if: ' the waste of life, hurrying on its way. I But i'f ; r.u :hat. Little Marie waited his return, I perhaps c ; '.:ig in her loneliness and pain. The J CoIoiil-1 1 his dim eyes to the dark, gray sky I in a rrruio r ppeaL A man crossing the road hurried-I hurried-I ly struck against him and sent him reeling against j the stcne parapet of the bridge. The Colonel's hat fell off. The man was a robust figure and was well dressed. "I beg your pardon," he said, heartily. "I am afraid it was entirely my fault." Then he uttered !an exclamation and, drawing himself up, raised his hand to his hat. "Coldnel Marden," he said, respectfully. re-spectfully. The Colonel recovered his hat and peered at the stranger through the gathering gloom. "You don't know me, Colonel V . ''My eyesight fails me a little. No, I don't know A you." jj ''Webb, sir; George Webb. Captain Singleton's ij troop." i "Aye, I remember you. Very glad to see you, 1 Webb. I hope you are doing well," said the Colonel lO kindly. r Webb looked at his old C. O. with a pitying eye. He could read the marks of famine in the old man's - , face. He knew why the shabby frock coat was so i closely buttoned up. "Yes, sir," he replied; "I am doing very well, indeed, thank you," and on the impulse im-pulse of the. moment he held out hia hand. A faint smile flickered over the Colonel's worn face. "You are an honest man, Webb," he said. "Yon know what they say about me. Can you take my hand V ' ''Take it, Colonel ? God bless you, sir, I'm only ntoo honored," and he gave the Colonel's hand a grip that hurt. "No man of the old regiment that I ever met thought it was your fault, sir. An officer is no match for those city sharks. Your mistake, sir, in having any truck with them. Take my arm, sir, if you don't mind. I see you're tired. My way shall be yours." "Thank you, Webb. I live close by, in a street jut off the road. Fm a little dizzy and faint. Liver troubling me again; the old complaint. Very glad I met you. I think they were rather hard upon m The men knew me better. Webb, the men knew me better." Webb was silent, pondering many things. He w'as a bluff, good-hearted man, sadly lacking the polish of high society, but he was dreadfully afraid 'f hurting the Colonel's feelings. It was evident the poor old man was starving, j-et how was it possible pos-sible to help him? They turned into the narrow, miserable street where the Colonel lived. lt "No. f, Webb," said the Colonel. "The other i A frf', not far up. -My eyesight is bad in the failing Q bfrht." "Jiipht, sir; No. G. Here it is. 'V4 "Thank you. I am at home now. I wish you i:.i nftemoon, Webb, and all good fortune." t 1 Webb lingered at the door. "All alone, sir?" he asked softly. ! "No, no, not alone ; my little granddaughter lives 1 with me." "I don't wish to intrude, sir, but I should very tiiueli like to see her. I remember Mrs. Marsden 'iil Miss Sybil, too. I should like to see Miss Sybil Syb-il s child." "You would?" l ir ' S' fcr am very ond children. I have dozen of my own." 1 he pride of the patrician soldier was high even 1;"v. Colonel Marsden had been born and brought It up under a system of caste almost as rigid as the -astPs of India. There was a gulf between him and tie man who had served as a trooper in his regi-n'it. regi-n'it. But for that, he wavered. Let me, Colonel. It would give me great pleas- 'ire to see her." 1 .1 ? U iare a frood f(?Ilow bb. I am afraid you J ' " t mul(rstand. I am not receiving visitors just I !! a' , y arra"gnent8,' you know" He hesitated and fetaimnered. i "It's a liberty, I know, sir; but you won't refuse an old soldier. You used to say you owed me something some-thing for what I did at Omdurman." "Aye, I remember. Not sure I don't owe you my life, Webb. You ought to have had the V. C. but there were others. Come upstairs; you'll have to mount a good way." They ascended the dark, rickety staircase of the old house. On the third landing the Colonel took out a key and opened the door. It was almost dark in the little room. "Marie," the Colonel called. No answer. "Marie!" he uttered the name again with a strange note of terror in his voice and bent over the child's cot. "Yes, grandpa," said a feeble little voice. "I've been asleep and dreaming of roast beef. Oh, I'm so dreadfully hungry! What have you brought, grandpa ?" ' "I have brought some one to see you, Marie," said the Colonel hoarsely; "a nrave soldier who was with me in India and Egypt. Look up. Come in Webb, and close the door." Webb came in bareheaded. It was almost dark but guite light enough for him to read the story of the room. "How are you, miss?" he said, ap proaching the cot. "I am very glad to see you. T remember your mother, and a beautiful voung lar' she was." He took the little hand in his ane1 kissed it. "What is your name ? I didn't quite hear," asked Marie. "George Webb." "I am pleased to meet you, Webb," said the little lit-tle lady. WeSriifted her l,p and carried ner to the window. win-dow. Why, you'll be a rare beauty one of these days, miss; just like Miss Sybil," he said. Iariauehed up at him and pulled his mous-xrCrt mous-xrCrt V yo,u belon t0 the relieving force, Webb? she asked. "And have you got through with supplies ? We can't hold out anv longer." les, miss," he said huskily, "I belong to the relieving force" He was very glad the room was (lark. He aid the child gently in her cot again, then turned to the Colonel. "Colonel Marden," he said m a low voice, "God knows I don't wish to offend of-fend you; if I do, perhaps you'll forgive me for the sake of old times. I ask you if you will so far hon- or me and my wife as to come home with me now. 1 shall be very proud to show you my house. I live in the Chaplam road; the car will take you up there m a few minutes. I know it's a liberty, but" The bonds of caste were broken. The patrician soldier and the lowly-born man of business could not see each other's faces distinctly. They stood there and clasped hands in silence. The Colonel put on his old hat again and walked to the window. Come along, miss," said Webb cheerilv. "Get up and put on your things. You and your father are coming to my house. It's getting near our tea time, and you shall have a grand time with my little lit-tle girls. The siege is over, the relief column has come up and the enemy is in full retreat." John Cleland in Cassell's Journal. |