“You chose a cool time for it!” and Mr. Hildreth laughed.

Geoffrey Chittenden shrugged his shoulders.  “When Geoffrey Chittenden, Senior, makes up his mind to do anything, he has the most sublime indifference for the thermometer of any one I ever had the honor of knowing.  But the ship only brought a small detachment, I believe; she will carry away a larger one.  The garrison here is to be reduced, you know.”

“Yes, it is a mistake I think.  Will Drewson have to go?  He has been on this Station longer than any of the others.”

“Yes, his company has marching orders for Malta.  He told me last night he was coming to take leave of you next week.”

“Our nice Captain Drewson going away!” Evadne exclaimed, aghast.  “Why, dearest, he is one of our oldest friends!”

“The law of progression, Vad darling.”

“How I hate it!” she cried, while her lips trembled.  “Why can’t we just live on in the old happy way?  You will be going next, Geoff, and the Hamiltons and the Vandervoorts.  Does nothing last?”

Her voice hushed itself into silence and again Lenox Hildreth heard the soft waves singing,—­

“Forever!  Forever!  Forever!”

“Oh yes, Evadne,” Geoffrey said with a laugh:  “we are very lasting.  It is only the unfortunate people under military rule who prove unreliable.  Let me sing you my latest song to cheer your spirits.  I only learned it last week.”

He struck a few chords and was beginning his song when a low groan made him spring to his feet.  Evadne passed him like a flash of light and flew to her father’s side.  He was leaning heavily against a pillar with his handkerchief, already showing crimson stains, pressed tightly against his lips.

They laid him gently down and summoned help.  After that all was like a horrible dream to Evadne.  She was dimly conscious that friends came with ready offers of assistance, and that Barbadoes’ best physicians were unremitting in their efforts to stop the hemorrhage; while she stood like a statue beside her father’s bed.  She was absolutely still.  When at last the hemorrhage was checked the exhaustion was terrible.  Evadne longed to throw herself beside him and pillow the dear head upon her bosom, but Dr. Danvers had whispered,—­

“A sudden sound may start the hemorrhage again,—­the slightest shock is sure to.”  After that, not for worlds would she have moved a finger.

The day passed and another night drew on.  One of the physicians was constantly in attendance, for the hemorrhage returned at intervals.  Just as the rose-tinted dawn looked shyly through the windows, her father spoke, and Evadne bent her head to catch the faint tone of the voice which sounded so far away.

“Vad, darling, I have made an awful mistake!  I thought everything a sham.  I know better now.  Make it the business of your life, little Vad, to find Jesus Christ.”

Again the red stream stained his lips, and Dr. Danvers came swiftly forward, but Lenox Hildreth was forever beyond all need of human care.