You must not talk much, you know, else we shall be
having you getting feverish again."
So saying, she left the room.
Claire had stopped timidly near the door. The change which four days had
made in Walter's appearance shocked her, and she scarcely recognized, in
the pale drawn face, the youth who had burst in, sword in hand, to her
rescue on that terrible evening. The tears were running fast down her
cheeks, as she approached the couch.
"Why, what is the matter, Claire?" he asked. "You must not cry. I am all
right again now, and in a week shall be on horseback, I hope."
"Oh, Walter, what can I say?" she said. "To think that you should have
suffered so, for us!"
"There is nothing dreadful about it," he said, smiling. "A soldier must
expect to get wounded, sometimes, and a slash from a German sword is not
a serious matter. I am only too glad that I got it in your cause,
Claire--only too glad that I was able to be of service to you--and your
mother," he added in afterthought. "It makes me very happy, to think I
have been useful to you, only I would rather that you didn't say anything
more about it. I am quite content and happy, as it is, and, if it had
been my life, I would have gladly given it.
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