“I do not think so. I shall go for a time, of course. The little son is the heir, you realize that.” “Yes, of course. Then what are your plans?” “I have none as yet. I can have none.” He spoke quite mournfully, dejectedly, and Lucie felt a great wave of compassion sweep over her. Victor, always so joyous and gay, to be like this, like one who had looked into the very depths of misery and horror and who had not crept back yet to a place where he could behold brighter visions! He went away with her uncle soon after, promising to return in the morning. She watched the pair going off down the street, one in horizon blue, the other in khaki, then she returned to her mother and the two talked till the October twilight deepened to dark. Lucie wondered why, now that the sum of her greatest wish was granted, she did not feel more tranquil as she lay that night with wide-open eyes fixed upon a bright star which sent its beams through her little window. She concluded that it was because of her father and Annette, though she had been thinking less of them than of Victor and of _Coin-du-Pres_. Why should it not be a good thing for Victor to marry Annette, not yet of course, but after a while? She considered this possibility for a little time, but somehow did not care to continue the subject. Then she decided that a better plan would be to have her Uncle Philip marry Annette. It would keep him in France, and give Annette a near relationship. But suddenly she remembered her uncle’s look of confusion when she rallied him upon his tarrying at the canteen, and she came to the conclusion that this pretty plan was not to be depended upon. Was he spending the evening with Miss Lowndes, and where was Victor? She had not had any curiosity about this matter before now, but she at once began to wonder why Victor had not returned to spend the evening with his old friends. What was he doing? There were other girls in the town whom he had met in days gone by. Perhaps he was renewing old acquaintances. Victor--her mother--her father--Victor. It was the thought of Victor, after all, which found her dropping off at last to sleep. She awoke in the morning with a new and delightful sense of something unusually pleasant. Her mother! She sat up in bed and looked across to the other side of the room where, upon a cot, her mother was sleeping peacefully. For some moments Lucie sat gazing at her, a flood tide of joy surging through her. It was no dream. She had believed. Odette had believed that this day would come and their faith was justified. Presently her mother opened her eyes and smiled. Lucie sprang out of bed and went over to cuddle down in her embrace. To be sure the cot was narrow but neither minded that. “We shall scarcely have room enough in this little house when papa comes,” said Lucie. “To be sure this is much better than the shed where we lived at first.” “You are very confident that your father will come, dear child.”