“If granny were not really very unwell I should have come straight off to soften the blow to you, but I send the letters which I have just received, and I have asked Mrs. Hawthorn to explain them to you.  You must be comforted by knowing that our dear Rob has proved himself a hero and died a hero’s death.  I know you would like to see the nurse’s letter written from the hospital, and I also send you one from the major of his regiment who used to know me years ago.  I know you will be a brave boy and bear this trouble like a man.  Tell Dudley to write to me by the first post to tell me you have got the letters safely.

   “Your loving aunt,

   “Julia Bertram.”

The letter dropped from Roy’s grasp, and he flung himself down on the beach face foremost.

Dudley sat staring out at the sea without speaking.  The blow had fallen so heavily, and so unexpectedly, that speech was not forthcoming.

At last Roy looked up.

“You read the other letters to me, Dudley,” he said, in a choked voice.

And Dudley, with a good deal of hesitation and effort interrupted by tears, read out as follows: 

   “Dear madam: 

“I have been asked to write to you about Robert White who I am sorry to say was brought into the military hospital the other day dangerously wounded.  He lingered three days and was perfectly conscious up to the last.  I never saw a braver or more patient lad.  He told me all about your goodness to him, and his devotion to a little nephew of yours was most touching.  His name was always on his lips.  He asked me to tell you the circumstances of his death, and added, ’She will tell Master Roy, I have tried to do my duty.  And I will be waiting now in heaven to welcome him.  I would have liked to be his servant, but God wants me, and God comes first.’  I heard from his sergeant the details of the engagement.  A small party of them—­White among them—­had been ordered to go and take a certain mountain pass, and their officer in command was shot just before they reached it.  I wish I could give you the account in the sergeant’s own words as he told it me.  I will try.  ’We were marching up in single file, for the pass was a very narrow one.  Through the clefts round it, we saw projecting the enemy’s bayonets and spears, and we knew it was certain death for the first one in our ranks.  I led the men, and I tell you, Mum, it was a cold-blooded way of meeting one’s death, worse than in the fiercest battle fighting shoulder to shoulder!  I pulled myself together, tried to say a prayer and marched on, wondering where I should be the next minute, when suddenly before I knew where I was, Corporal White had placed himself in front of me.  “You are not ready, sergeant,” he said; “I am, let me take your place.”  It wasn’t time to stand arguing, but I tell you I felt queer when I saw the lad stretched for dead under my feet.  We had a sharp skirmish,