"The husband is gone over there, and yonder the son. Both sons from that place are gone. And over there they have lost a son-in-law--you know, the one who had just got married. At the farm yonder the husband came home a cripple last Christmas; and the son in that one is blind." His hushed and mournful words spoke of nothing but death and grief. There was scarcely a farm or a house the door of which was not marked with the cross of death, or in which mourning or disablement had not a home.... IX--"MY FIANCEE--SHE ONLY WEPT" My _fiancée_ was standing in the middle of the yard. Her face had not the same bright gentleness as before. About her features and on her lips there were the same sad and mournful lines that I had seen on the faces of the women in the hospital. She, too, was stamped with the daily silent longing and uncertainty, the nightly dread and heart-ache. She seemed to me to look old. And she was not yet twenty-two. She threw her arms round my neck, almost before I had reached the ground. She said nothing. She only cried, clinging closely to me and hiding her face on my shoulder. "Well, _you_ can recognise him, it seems," said my father. "It was all I could do--just at first...." She looked at me, and then turned to my father as she said: "I _knew_ that he would look like that--that was how I always saw him. In my thoughts by day and my dreams at night." Then we went into the sitting-room. X--"MY MOTHER--SHE BROKE DOWN AND SOBBED" My mother was standing by the table. She was pale and there was a frightened and despairing look in her eyes. She gazed at me for a moment as if in terror. Then she sank down upon a chair and hid her face in her hands. "Is that _my_ boy--is that _my_ boy?..." It sounded like a heart-broken wailing. I saw that she was sobbing. I perceived that my face had frightened her; the empty sleeve too. I went over and knelt down beside her, putting my arm round her waist and my head in her lap. I had always done that as a boy when she was grieved about anything. Then I felt her hand gently, stroking my head. How soft that hand was! What a blissfulness there was in that quiet, gentle stroking! Is there anybody who knows how to caress like a mother? Is there anything in the world that holds such rapturous joy?... After a little while she took my chin in her hands and raised my head. Our eyes met. Hers were soft and shining--a fathomless deep of love to gaze into. Her face was grey and there was a quivering about her firmly-closed lips. But I could see that she was happy--silently, speechlessly happy. I felt her lips on my forehead. It was like a great solemnity to me. And then she said in a soft whisper: "My own big boy--my own big boy--thank God for ever that I have you back again!" A sad little smile passed over her face, and, as if she felt a desire to say something showing a little of her warm-hearted and charming humour, she added between smiles and tears: