It was bravely spoken, and though Sara was inwardly conscious that in the last words the spirit, for the moment, outdistanced the flesh, it served to dissipate the rather strained atmosphere which had prevailed at Sunnyside since the rupture of her engagement had become common knowledge.

So, figuratively speaking, the blinds were drawn up and life resumed its normal aspect once again.

It had fallen to the lot of Audrey Maynard to carry the ill-tidings to Rose Cottage.  Sara had asked her to acquaint their little circle with the altered condition of affairs, and Audrey had readily undertaken to perform this service, eager to do anything that might spare Sara some of the inevitable pinpricks which attend even the big tragedies of life.

“The whole affair is incomprehensible to me,” said Audrey at last, as she rose preparatory to taking her departure.  There seemed no object in lingering to discuss so painful a topic.  “It’s—­oh!  It’s heart-breaking.”

Miss Livinia departed hastily to do a little weep in the seclusion of her room upstairs.  She hardly concerned herself with the enormity of Garth’s offence.  She was old, and she saw only romance shattered into fragments, youth despoiled of its heritage, love crucified.  Moreover, the Lavender Lady had never been censorious.

“What is your opinion, Miles?” asked Audrey, when she had left the room.

Herrick had been rather silent, his brown eyes meditative.  Now he looked up quickly.

“About the funking part of it?  As I wasn’t on the spot when the affair took place, I haven’t the least right to venture an opinion.”

Audrey looked puzzled.

“I don’t see why not.  You can’t get behind the verdict of the court-martial.”

“Trials have been known where justice went awry,” said Miles quietly.  “There was a trial where Pilate was judge.”

“Do you mean to say you doubt the verdict?”—­eagerly.

“No, I was not meaning quite that in this case.  But, because the law says a man is a blackguard, when I’d stake my life he’s nothing of the kind, it doesn’t alter my opinion one hair’s-breadth.  The verdict may have been—­probably, almost certainly, was—­the only verdict that could be given to meet the facts of the case.  But still, it is possible that it was not a just verdict—­labelling as a coward for all time a man who may have had one bad moment when his nerves played him false.  There are other men who have had their moment of funk, but, as the matter never came under the official eyes, they have made good since—­ended up as V.C.’s, some of ’em.  Facts are often very foolish things, to my mind.  Motives, and circumstances, even conditions of physical health, are bound to play as big a part as facts, if you’re going to administer pure justice.  But the army can’t consider the super-administration of justice”—­smiling.  “Discipline must be maintained and examples made.  Only—­sometimes—­it’s damn bad luck on the example.”