the role of
prophetess.

"In the first place, the Almighty will not allow it, in the second,
Grand Duke Nicholas, though he may have been a disappointment to us in
some respects, knows how to run away decently and in order, and that is
a very useful knowledge when Germans are chasing you. Norman Douglas
declares he is just luring them on and killing ten of them to one he
loses. But I am of the opinion he cannot help himself and is just doing
the best he can under the circumstances, the same as the rest of us. So
do not go so far afield to borrow trouble, Miss Oliver dear, when there
is plenty of it already camping on our very doorstep."

Walter had gone to Kingsport the first of June. Nan, Di and Faith had
gone also to do Red Cross work in their vacation. In mid-July Walter
came home for a week's leave before going overseas. Rilla had lived
through the days of his absence on the hope of that week, and now that
it had come she drank every minute of it thirstily, hating even the
hours she had to spend in sleep, they seemed such a waste of precious
moments. In spite of its sadness, it was a beautiful week, full of
poignant, unforgettable hours, when she and Walter had long walks and
talks and silences together. He was all her own and she knew that he
found strength and comfort in her sympathy and understanding. It was
very wonderful to know she meant so much to him--the knowledge helped
her through moments that would otherwise have been unendurable, and
gave her power to smile--and even to laugh a little. When Walter had
gone she might indulge in the comfort of tears, but not while he was
here. She would not even let herself cry at night, lest her eyes should
betray her to him in the morning.

On his last evening at home they went together to Rainbow Valley and
sat down on the bank of the brook, under the White Lady, where the gay
revels of olden days had been held in the cloudless years. Rainbow
Valley was roofed over with a sunset of unusual splendour that night; a
wonderful grey dusk just touched with starlight followed it; and then
came moonshine, hinting, hiding, revealing, lighting up little dells
and hollows here, leaving others in dark, velvet shadow.

"When I am 'somewhere in France,'" said Walter, looking around him with
eager eyes on all the beauty his soul loved, "I shall remember these
still, dewy, moon-drenched places. The balsam of the fir-trees; the
peace of those white pools of moonshine; the 'strengt