"John, if you had explained the whole thing to me--I do not know, perhaps I should have agreed with you, for I, too, have much of this family pride, and I cannot bear to think of Ferdinand--or his children which may be, at Ardayre. I might have voluntarily consented--I cannot be sure. But somehow just lately I have been thinking very much about spiritual things, things I mean beyond the material, those great forces which must be all around us, and I have wondered if we are not perhaps too ignorant yet to upset any laws. Perhaps I am stupid--I don't know really. I have only been wondering--but perhaps there are powerful currents connected with laws, whether they are just or unjust, simply because of the force of people's thoughts for hundreds of years around them." They went to the sofa then and sat down. It made John happier to hear her talk. His strong will was now conquering the outward show of his emotion at last. "It may be so--" "You see, supposing anything should happen to Ferdinand," she went on, "then Denzil would have been naturally the next heir--and now--if the child is a boy--" John started. "We neither of us thought of that." "But nothing is likely to happen to Ferdinand; he won't enlist--it is only you, dear John, who are in danger, and Denzil, too--but surely the war cannot go on long now?" John wondered if he should tell her what he really felt about this, or whether it were wiser to keep her quietly in this hopeful dream of a speedy end. He decided to say nothing; it was better for her health not to agitate her mind--events would speak for themselves, alas, presently. He talked quietly then of Ardayre and of his boyhood and of its sorrows; he was determined to break down his own reserve, and Amaryllis listened interestedly, and gradually some kind of peace and calm seemed to come to them both, and they resolutely banished the thought of the future, and sought only to think of the present. And then at last John rose and took her hand: "Go to bed now, dear girl,--and to-morrow I shall have quite conquered all the feelings which could disturb you, and just remember always that I am indeed your friend." She understood at last the greatness of his sacrifice and the fineness of his soul, and she fell into a passion of weeping and ran from the room. But John, left alone, sank down into the same chair as he had done once before on the night he was waiting for Denzil, and, as then, he buried his face in his hands. CHAPTER XVII The next day they met at breakfast. John had not slept at all and was very pale and Amaryllis's eyes still showed the deepened violet shadows from much weeping. But they were both quite calm. She came over to John and kissed his forehead with gentle tenderness and then gave him his tea. They tried to talk in a friendly way as of old before any new emotions had come into their lives. And gradually the strain became lessened.