She was proud and serene, a heightening of the color in her cheeks being the only sign of unusual feeling.

Harry came to her for a moment, held her hand tightly in his, took the bud from his bosom, touched it significantly with his lips, and sprang upon the train which was beginning to move away.
The days that followed were halcyon for her.

While the other women of Sardis, whose loved ones were gone, were bewailing the dangers they would encounter, her proud spirit only contemplated the chances that Harry would have for winning fame.

Battles meant bright laurels for him in which she would have a rightful share.
Her mental food became the poetry of love, chivalry and glorious war.
The lyric had a vivid personal interest.

Tales of romantic daring and achievement were suggestions of possibilities in Harry's career.