"We will talk no more about it." "And you will go on being kind?" "Of course." Before they reached the hospital door in Park Lane Mrs. Ardayre had been instructed to send an immediate telegram the moment the baby was born, and to comfort and take care of Amaryllis, and tell her son every little detail as to her welfare and about the child. "I will try not to form any opinion, Denzil; and some day perhaps things will be made plain, for it would break my heart to believe that you are a dishonourable man." "You need not worry, Mum dearest. Indeed, I am not that. It is just a tragic story, but I cannot say more. Only take care of Amaryllis, and send me news as often as you can." * * * * * The telegram to say that Amaryllis had a little son came to John Ardayre on the night before he went into the trenches again at the second battle of Ypres on May 9th, 1915. He had been waiting in feverish impatience and expectancy all the day, and, in fact, for three days for news. His whole inner life since that New Year's night had been strangely serene, in spite of its frightful outward turmoil and stress. He had taken the tumult of Neuve Chapelle calmly, and had come through it and all the beginning of the Ypres battle without a scratch. He had felt that he was looking upon it all from some detached standpoint, and that it in no way personally concerned him. He had seen Denzil do the splendid thing and he had felt a distinct distress when he had seen him fall wounded. Denzil was just back now and in the trenches again with the rest of the dismounted cavalry. They might meet in the attack at dawn. When John read the telegram from his aunt, Lady de la Paule, his emotion was so great that he staggered a little, and a friend standing by in the billet took out his flask and gave him some brandy, thinking that he must have received bad news. Then it seemed as though he went mad! The repression of his life appeared to fall from him, he became as a new man. All his comrades were astonished at him, and a Scotch Corporal was heard to remark that it was "na canny--the Captain was fey." The Ardayres were saved! The family would carry on! Fondest love welled up in his heart for Amaryllis. If he only came through he would devote his life to showing her his gratitude and showering everything upon her that her heart could desire--and perhaps--perhaps the joy of the baby would make up for the absence of Denzil. This thought stayed with him and comforted him. Lady de la Paule had wired: "A splendid little son born 11:45 A.M. seventh May--Amaryllis well--all love." And an hour or two before this Denzil had also received the news from his Mother. He, too, had grown exalted and thanked God. So the day that the Germans were to fail at Ypres, and destiny was to accomplish itself for these two men--dawned. * * * * *