ave I will have to impart to your father as
well as to you. So it will have to keep until I see him . . . but just
now, Crystal, while we are alone . . . I have other things to say to
you."

But it is doubtful if Crystal heard more than just the first words which
he had spoken, for she broke in quite irrelevantly:

"You don't know about the British troops, Maurice? Oh! but you must
know! . . . Don't you know what British regiments were engaged? . . ."

"I know that none of our own people were in British regiments, Crystal,"
he retorted somewhat drily, "whereas the Brunswickers and Nassauers were
as much French as German . . . they fought gallantly all day . . . you
do not ask so much about them."

"But . . ." she stammered while a hot flush spread over her cheeks, "I
thought . . . you said . . ."

"Are you not content for the moment, Crystal," he called out with tender
reproach, "to know that victory has crowned our King and his allies and
that I have come back to you safely out of that raging hell at Waterloo?
Are you not glad that I am here?"

He spoke more vehemently now, for there was something in Crystal's calm
attitude which had begun to chill him. Had he not been in deadly danger
all the day? Had she not heard that distant cannon's roar which had
threatened his life throughout all these hours? Had he not come back out
of the very jaws of Death?

And yet here she stood white as a lily and as unruffled; except for that
one first exclamation of joy not a single cry from the heart had forced
itself through her pale, slightly trembling lips: yet she was sweet and
girlish and tender as of old and even now at the implied reproach her
eyes had quickly filled with tears.

"How can you ask, Maurice?" she protested gently. "I have thought of you
and prayed for you all day."

It was her quiet serenity that disconcerted him--the kindly tone of her
voice--her calm, unembarrassed manner checked his passionate impulse and
caused him to bite his underlip with vexation until it bled.

The shadows of evening were closing in around them: from the windows of
the houses close by dim, yellow lights began to blink like eyes.
Overhead, the exquisite towers of Ste. Gudule stood out against the
stormy sky like perfect, delicate lace-work turned to stone, whilst the
glass of the west window glittered like a sheet of sapphires and
emeralds and rubies, as it caught the last rays of the sinking sun.
Crystal's graceful figure stood