"It's what you would wish me to do, father, isn't it?" he still continued aloud. "To go into Parliament, and then work and fight for the peace of the world? To destroy the ghastly nightmare of war, to fight against the War-god, to put an end to this eternal making of implements of death. I have your consent, and your blessing, haven't I?" Yes, he was sure his father was smiling on him, and giving him his blessing. There was something sacred, holy, in the thought. He turned out the lights, but the beams of the moon streamed through the window, and rested on the picture. "Good night, father," he said. "I'll try to be a true man," and then he left the room, feeling as if indeed he had been talking to his father. "Is that you, Bob?" He was passing his mother's bedroom door, as the words reached his ears. "Yes, mother. I thought you would have been asleep hours ago." "No, I couldn't sleep till I heard you come in. Come in, and kiss me good night." Bob entered his mother's room, and went towards the bed. Mrs. Nancarrow was still a young woman, and looked almost like a girl as she lay on the snowy pillows. "Whom was that you were talking to?" "I--I was thinking, mother." "Thinking? Thinking aloud?" "I suppose so." "What about?" "About father." There was a silence for a few seconds. Both felt they were on sacred ground. "Mother," said Bob, remembering what Nancy had said to him, "I want to tell you something. But you won't breathe a word, will you? It's a profound secret. I mean that you must not mention it to _any one_, must not speak about it to any one, under any circumstances." "Of course I won't, if you don't wish it. What is it?" "I'm engaged to Nancy Tresize." "What!" Bob repeated the news. "Aren't you pleased, mother?" She lifted herself up in the bed and threw her arms around his neck. "You don't mean it really, Bob? Why, I never dreamed that such a thing was possible." "Neither did I until to-day. I--I--mother, what are you crying about? Aren't you pleased?" "Of course I am; but oh, my dear boy! Oh, if only your father had lived!" "He knows. I've been telling him," said Bob, who had a strain of the mystic in his nature. "I'm sure I have his blessing." "Nancy is the finest, sweetest girl in Cornwall," she cried; "I couldn't have wished for anything better. I've always loved her. But I never thought that----" "Neither did I," interrupted Bob. "It seems too good to be true, but it is true. I motored Nancy over to Gurnard's Head this afternoon, and--and it is all settled. She's the dearest girl in the world, mother." "Of course she is," sobbed Mrs. Nancarrow. "There, wait a minute until I dry my eyes. I never expected such a thing, and--and oh, Bob, my dear, dear boy!" "You mustn't imagine that you aren't still dear to me, mother, or that I love you one whit the less. I don't, you know, and Nancy loves you too."