Page:Pratt portraits - sketched in a New England suburb (IA prattportraitssk00full).pdf/239

 brought face to face with a personal heroism that rose above the commonplace of every day. It appealed to all her enthusiasm—all her idealism. It touched her as nothing else could have done, it made a woman of her. And yet she was still so much a child that her mood changed from moment to moment, her thoughts flew from great things to small, and all the while she never dreamed whither she was tending.

He had been in the war. He had stood his ground when the bullets whistled about him, when men fell dead on every side. He had been wounded, crippled, and then he had gone back and faced the bullets again. And Hazeldean had dared to call him "a muff." And she! And she! Oh! What had she been thinking of to treat him so! And she might never see him again. If he had avoided her for three months it was not likely that he would do any differently in the little time remaining. But she must ask his forgiveness. She could not let him go away forever with those contemptuous words to remember. He had offered her the devotion of a brave man, and like a petulant child she had flung back the proffered gift with scorn and contumely.

Then, as asudden anti-climax, came the memory of certain foolish words she had once spoken. Oh! dreadful thought! She had said his shoes were too tight for him! That smote her conscience more cruelly than all the rest, and without knowing when she had turned, she found herself