With a dash and a great rocking swing the vessel came up to her appointed place, and was safely moored.  Philip sat still, almost as if he had no part in the cries of welcome, the bustling care, the loud directions that cut the air around him, and pierced his nerves through and through.  But one in authority gave the order; and Philip, disciplined to obedience, rose to find his knapsack and leave the ship.  Passive as he seemed to be, he had his likings for particular comrades; there was one especially, a man as different from Philip as well could be, to whom the latter had always attached himself; a merry fellow from Somersetshire, who was almost always cheerful and bright, though Philip had overheard the doctors say he would never be the man he was before he had that shot through the side.  This marine would often sit making his fellows laugh, and laughing himself at his own good-humoured jokes, till so terrible a fit of coughing came on that those around him feared he would die in the paroxysm.  After one of these fits he had gasped out some words, which led Philip to question him a little; and it turned out that in the quiet little village of Potterne, far inland, nestled beneath the high stretches of Salisbury Plain, he had a wife and a child, a little girl, just the same age even to a week as Philip’s own little Bella.  It was this that drew Philip towards the man; and this that made Philip wait and go ashore along with the poor consumptive marine.

The litters had moved off towards the hospital, the sergeant in charge had given his words of command to the remaining invalids, who tried to obey them to the best of their power, falling into something like military order for their march; but soon, very soon, the weakest broke step, and lagged behind; and felt as if the rough welcomes and rude expressions of sympathy from the crowd around were almost too much for them.  Philip and his companion were about midway, when suddenly a young woman with a child in her arms forced herself through the people, between the soldiers who kept pressing on either side, and threw herself on the neck of Philip’s friend.

‘Oh, Jem!’ she sobbed, ’I’ve walked all the road from Potterne.  I’ve never stopped but for food and rest for Nelly, and now I’ve got you once again, I’ve got you once again, bless God for it!’

She did not seem to see the deadly change that had come over her husband since she parted with him a ruddy young labourer; she had got him once again, as she phrased it, and that was enough for her; she kissed his face, his hands, his very coat, nor would she be repulsed from walking beside him and holding his hand, while her little girl ran along scared by the voices and the strange faces, and clinging to her mammy’s gown.

Jem coughed, poor fellow! he coughed his churchyard cough; and Philip bitterly envied him—­envied his life, envied his approaching death; for was he not wrapped round with that woman’s tender love, and is not such love stronger than death?  Philip had felt as if his own heart was grown numb, and as though it had changed to a cold heavy stone.  But at the contrast of this man’s lot to his own, he felt that he had yet the power of suffering left to him.