nd
me which should get that ring at an antique shop, when we both heard of
its history. He could afford to bid higher, so he secured it. Not that
he was selfish! But he said he wanted the ring in case he met his ideal
and got engaged to her. If he'd lost the bet the ring would have been
mine. If he didn't give it to you, I wonder what's become of the thing?
Perhaps his mother knows. Did she ever speak to you about Jim bringing
home a quaint old ring from France, that time after his fever--a ring
supposed to have belonged to the most beautiful woman of her day, the
Italian Countess Castiglione, whom Louis Napoleon loved?"

"No," I said. "He can't have given the ring to his mother, or she would
have told me about it, I'm sure. She's always talking of him."

"Perhaps it was stolen or lost," Curtis reflected. "Yet I don't feel as
if that had happened, somehow! I trust my feelings a good
deal--especially since this war, that's made us all a bit psychic--don't
you?"

"I have too many feelings to trust half of them!" I tried to laugh.

"Have you ever had one, I wonder, like mine, about Jim? Dare I speak to
you of this?"

"Why not?"

"Well--I wouldn't dare to his mother. Or even to the old man."

"You _must_ speak now, please, Mr. Curtis, to me!"

"It's this; have you ever had the feeling that Jim may be alive?"

We were standing. I caught at the back of a chair. Things whirled for an
instant. Then I gathered my wits together. "I haven't let myself feel
it," I said. "And yet, in a way, I _always_ feel it. I mean, I seem to
feel--his thoughts round us. But that's because we speak and think of
him almost every moment of the day, his father and mother and I. There
can be no doubt--can there?"

"Others have come back from the dead since this war. Why not Jim
Beckett?"

"They said they had--found his body."

"Oh, they _said_! Germans say a lot of things. But for the Lord's sake,
Miss O'Malley, don't let's upset those poor old people with any such
hope. I've only my feeling--and other people's stories of escape--to go
upon. I spoke to you, because I guess you've got a strong soul, and can
stand shocks. Besides, you told me I must speak. I had to obey."

"Thank you for obeying," I said. And just then someone came into the
room.

* * * * *

Now, Padre, I have told you the _great thing_. What does it matter what
happens to me, if only Jack Curtis's "feeling" comes true?

CHAPTER