Chapter 5

A HERO

Four years had passed, and Lillian was fast blooming into a lovely
woman: proud and willful as ever, but very charming, and already a belle
in the little world where she still reigned a queen. Owing to her
mother's ill health, she was allowed more freedom than is usually
permitted to an English girl of her age; and, during the season, often
went into company with a friend of Lady Trevlyn's who was chaperoning
two young daughters of her own. To the world Lillian seemed a gay,
free-hearted girl; and no one, not even her mother, knew how well she
remembered and how much she missed the lost Paul. No tidings of him had
ever come, and no trace of him was found after his flight. Nothing was
missed, he went without his wages, and no reason could be divined for
his departure except the foreign letter. Bedford remembered it, but
forgot what postmark it bore, for he had only been able to decipher
"Italy." My lady made many inquiries and often spoke of him; but when
month after month passed and no news came, she gave him up, and on
Lillian's account feigned to forget him. Contrary to Hester's fear, she
did not seem the worse for the nocturnal fright, but evidently connected
the strange visitor with Paul, or, after a day or two of nervous
exhaustion, returned to her usual state of health. Hester had her own
misgivings, but, being forbidden to allude to the subject, she held her
peace, after emphatically declaring that Paul would yet appear to set
her mind at rest.

"Lillian, Lillian, I've such news for you! Come and hear a charming
little romance, and prepare to see the hero of it!" cried Maud
Churchill, rushing into her friend's pretty boudoir one day in the
height of the season.

Lillian lay on a couch, rather languid after a ball, and listlessly
begged Maud to tell her story, for she was dying to be amused.

"Well my, dear, just listen and you'll be as enthusiastic as I am,"
cried Maud. And throwing her bonnet on one chair, her parasol on
another, and her gloves anywhere, she settled herself on the couch and
began: "You remember reading in the papers, some time ago, that fine
account of the young man who took part in the Italian revolution and did
that heroic thing with the bombshell?"

"Yes, what of him?" asked Lillian, sitting up.

"He is my hero, and we are to see him tonight."

"Go on, go on! Tell all, and tell it quickly," she cried.

"You know the officers were sitting somewhere, holding a council, while
the city (I forget the name) was being bombarded, and how a shell came
into the midst of them, how they sat paralyzed, expecting it to burst,
and how this young man caught it up and ran out with