“Then my brain cleared. I realized that I had been groping in a great darkness, but that a wonderful light had come, and I knew God was in His Heaven. That smile had brought revelation. It had told me that we were no better than Christ, and He had suffered,—He, an innocent soul. And as He had agonized on the cross, and God had suffered with Him, so every moan, sob, and cry had reached His ears in this great wail from humanity. It told me that this bruising of bodies, this rending of women’s hearts, this wringing of men’s souls, had wrung _His_ heart with a suffering greater than men could know. “It told me that it was all the working-out of God’s great plan for the good of mankind. It told me that the men, women, and children, who had passed through these seas of blood were to come forth with white garments, to be a great host led by the Angel of His Presence, and that their deeds were to live after them, to bring light into the dark places in men’s souls. It told me that these blood-soaked battlefields were to become gardens, where flowers would spring, the glorious flowers of freedom, and that every tear shed was to become great waters, to flow like a river of peace to all nations.” As Philip ceased speaking, the faces of his young listeners became very grave, and for a moment there was an impressive stillness, as if each one had been hushed to a reverent silence. “Well, after that, I was strangely happy,” continued the young man slowly. “I think I must have fallen asleep, for I was suddenly aroused by the cold snout of a dog nosing into my face. He was a little beast, not much bigger than Tige here,” softly stroking the refugee’s yellow dog as he spoke, at which Jean’s eyes grew soft and bright, for with the lad it was “Love me, love my dog.” “Yes, it was a Red Cross dog, whose beautiful eyes seemed almost human as they told me that help was near, and—” Philip stopped abruptly. He had had a weary, tired look for some time, but now a sudden pallor overspread his face, and Janet, who had been watching him nervously, stepped quickly to his side, crying, “And now you _must_ stop talking, Mr. de Brie, for you are overdoing.” Philip smiled into her blue eyes, but waved her aside as he cried, sitting up with sudden resolution, “But no, you must let me finish my story.” “Oh, yes, do let him finish his story!” came a chorus of eager voices. But at this moment Nathalie, whose face had suddenly brightened, cried, “Oh, no; let’s wait, for a big idea has suddenly come to me, and,” the girl’s eyes sparkled, “if it turns out all right it will add to our enjoyment if we wait to hear Mr. de Brie’s story some other time.” “A big idea,” cried Nita, all aquiver with curiosity. “Oh, Nathalie, do tell us what it is!” “No, not now,” answered the girl. “It will keep; but in the meantime let us have a story from Mr. Darrell. You know he promised to tell us about Lovewell, the Ranger, and now is his chance, and we are not going to let him off.”