“The sergeant told me this with a sob in his voice; he added that for months he had ridiculed White for his religion and tried to drive it out of him.  But he came every morning to the hospital, and I saw him on his knees by White’s bedside, offering up a prayer that he might be made a different man.

“And now I must try to give you more details about White himself.  I asked him if I could do anything for him the last day he was alive and then he asked me to write to you.  He kept the photo of your little nephew under his pillow, and more than once he murmured—­’God first, the Queen next, and then Master Roy—­I’ll be a faithful servant if I can!’ Toward evening I saw he was sinking.  I said ‘Are you comfortable, corporal?’ and he looked up with such a radiant smile:  ’Safe in the arms of Jesus,’ he murmured, and those were his last words.  From what I have heard from those who knew him out here, I gather that his life was a singularly pure and upright one, and that young as he was he had influenced more than one careless drinking man to turn over a new leaf, and be the same as he was.  I am forwarding his Bible and small belongings by this mail.

   “Believe me, dear madam,

   “Yours faithfully,

   “Rose Smith—­Sister in Charge.”

Roy listened to this with breathless interest, his eyes shining through his tears.

“Oh, Dudley, how splendid! oh, Rob, you have been a brave soldier, but I shall never, never see you again!”

Down went the little head and a torrent of tears burst forth; whilst Dudley laying his curly head against his cousin’s joined him in his weeping.  One more letter remained to be read and this was the major’s—­

   “Dear miss Bertram: 

“Having heard from you that one of my men was a protege of yours, I take the opportunity of saying a word for the poor young fellow.  He has been an exemplary character since he came into the regiment, and has, I hear, been a general favorite from his extreme good nature, in spite of being a religious lad.  His influence was felt by all his comrades who came in contact with him, and I feel we have lost a smart and promising soldier.  The sister in the hospital tells me she is writing particulars of his death.  My sergeant is very much cut up over it.

   “With kind regards,

   “Believe me, yours truly,

   “W.A.  Aldridge—­Major.”

“And that’s all,” said Dudley, mournfully; “why, I can’t believe Rob is dead—­we never knew he was ill.”

Roy took up the letter, and read through Rob’s again.  Then he looked across the blue ocean in front of him.

“Just read me that bit of the nurse’s letter of the fight, Dudley.  Can’t you think of him marching up to the enemy?”