by feebleness.  His will became like an invalid who is fretful upon the pillows.  Soon his strong resolutions, cherished and never to be parted from till out of them the deeds had blossomed, lost blood and fell upon the evil day of anemia.  He had a sensation of going out.  When the midnight came he could not sleep, and with it came a thought feeble but persistent:  “If she loves me it’s because I’ve given her Robin.”  And in the creaking darkness, encompassed by the restlessness of the sea, again and again he repeated to himself the words—­“it’s because I’ve given her Robin.”  That was the plain truth.  If he was loved, he was loved because of something he had done, not because of something that he was.  Towards dawn he felt so weak that his hold on life seemed relaxing, and at last he almost wished to let it go.  He understood why dying people do not usually fear death.

Three days later he was quite well and at work, but the memory of his illness stayed with him all through the South African campaign.  Often at night he returned to that night on shipboard, and said to himself, “The doctor’s needle helped me to think clearly.”

The voyage slipped away with the unnoticed swiftness that is the child of monotony.  The Southern Cross shone above the ship.  When the great heat set in the men were allowed to sleep on deck, and Dion lay all night long under the wheeling stars, and often thought of the stars above Drouva, and heard Rosamund’s voice saying, “I can see the Pleiades.”

The ship crossed the line.  Early in February the moon began to show a benign face to the crowd of men.  One night there was a concert which was followed by boxing.  Dion boxed and won his bout easily on points.

This little success had upon him a bracing effect, and gave him a certain prestige among his comrades.  He did well also at revolver and musketry practice—­better than many men who, though good enough shots at Bisley, found sectional practice with the service rifle a difficult job, were adepts at missing a mark with the revolver, and knew nothing of fire discipline.  Because he had set an aim before him on which he knew that his future happiness depended, he was able to put his whole heart into everything he did.  In the simplest duty he saw a means to an end which he desired intensely.  Everything that lay to hand in the life of the soldier was building material which he must use to the best advantage.  He knew fully, for the first time, the joy of work.

On a day in the middle of February the “Ariosto” passed the mail-boat from the Cape bound for England, sighted Table Mountain, and came to anchor between Robben Island and the docks.  On the following morning the men of the C.I.V. felt the earth with eager feet as they marched to Green Point Camp.

CHAPTER III

“Robin,” said Rosamund, “would you like to go and live in the country?”

Robin looked very serious and, after a moment of silent consideration, remarked: