authorities.

In spite of Nona's insistence that her patient was not well enough to be
moved, Sonya agreed to go with them at once.

And only at the moment of parting did she bestow any confidence upon the
younger girl.

Then she looked deep into Nona's golden brown eyes with her own
strangely glowing blue ones, and whispered:

"I have done nothing of which I am ashamed, Nona, or I should never have
asked for your friendship. It may be that I can make the Russian people
understand, but I do not feel sure. This war has made men blinder than
ever. I have only tried to be a follower of the 'Prince of Peace.'"

Then after she had walked away a few steps she came back again.

"Go back to your United States as soon as you can, Nona," she urged.
"Russia is no place for you or your friends."

Because Nona Davis dared not trust herself to speak, Sonya afterwards
went away without a word of faith or farewell from her.

CHAPTER VII

_A Russian Church_

One afternoon, after Nona had been nursing her friend, Sonya Valesky,
for some time, Mildred Thornton went alone into a little Russian church.

The church was situated behind the line of the fortifications at Grovno.
Many years before it had been erected, and now it did not occur to the
Russian officers that it stood in especial peril. Yet the church had the
golden dome of all Russian churches, glittering like a ball of fire in
the sun. Certainly it afforded an easy target for the enemy's guns, and
more than this would aid German aeroplanists in making observations of
the geography of the surrounding neighborhood. But since Grovno was
deemed invincible, apparently no one considered the possibility of the
other side to this question.

High cement walls guarded and mounted with cannon encircled the
countryside for many miles, while running out from the fortress itself
were numerous secret passages and cells, at present stored with
ammunition.

On this afternoon of Mildred's visit to the church she stood outside
for a few moments looking upward. At first she was merely admiring the
beauty of the little church. The gold of the dome seemed to be the one
appealing spot of color in all the surrounding landscape. Then she
opened the bronze doors and stole quietly inside.

Always the church was left open for prayer, but today on entering
Mildred Thornton found it empty.

A Russian church is unlike all others except the Greek, for it is filled
with brilliant colors