d of a German name grew almost
unbearable. People were calling for Sir Joseph's arrest. Others
scoffed at the cruelty and cowardice of such hysteria.

A once-loved prince of German blood had been frozen out of the navy,
and the internment camps were growing like boom towns. Yet other
Germans somehow were granted an almost untrammeled freedom, and
thousands who had avoided evil activity were tolerated throughout the
war.

Sir Joseph kept retorting to suspicion with subscription. He took
enormous quantities of the government loans. His contributions to the
Red Cross and the multitudinous charities were more like endowments
than gifts. How could Marie Louise be vile enough to suspect him?

Yet in spite of herself she resolved at last to refuse further
messenger service. Then she learned that Nicky had left England and
gone to America on most important financial business of a most
confidential nature.

Marie Louise was too glad of her release to ask questions. She
rejoiced that she had not insulted her foster-parents with mutiny, and
she drudged at whatever war work the committees found for her. They
found nothing very picturesque, but the more toilsome her labor was
the more it served for absolution of any evil she might have done.

And now that the dilemma of loyalty was taken from her soul, her body
surrendered weakly. She had time to fall ill. It was enough that she
got her feet wet. Her convalescence was slow even in the high hills of
Matlock.

The winter had passed, and the summer of 1916 had come before Marie
Louise was herself. The Weblings had moved out to the country again;
the flowers were back in the gardens; the deer and the birds were in
their summer garb and mood. But now the house guests were all wounded
soldiers and nurses. Sir Joseph had turned over his estate for a war
hospital.

Lady Webling went among her visitors like a queen making her rounds.
Sir Joseph squandered money on his distinguished company. Marie Louise
joined them and took what comfort she could in such diminution of pain
and such contributions of war power as were permitted her. Those were
the only legitimate happinesses in the world.

The tennis-courts were peopled now with players glad of one arm or one
eye or even a demodeled face. On the golf-links crutched men hobbled.
The horses in the stables bore only partial riders. The card-parties
were squared by players using hands made by hand. The music-room
resounded with five-fin