peace of the world? To destroy the ghastly nightmare of war, to
fight against the War-god, to put an end to this eternal making of
implements of death. I have your consent, and your blessing, haven't
I?"

Yes, he was sure his father was smiling on him, and giving him his
blessing. There was something sacred, holy, in the thought.

He turned out the lights, but the beams of the moon streamed through
the window, and rested on the picture.

"Good night, father," he said. "I'll try to be a true man," and then
he left the room, feeling as if indeed he had been talking to his
father.

"Is that you, Bob?"

He was passing his mother's bedroom door, as the words reached his ears.

"Yes, mother. I thought you would have been asleep hours ago."

"No, I couldn't sleep till I heard you come in. Come in, and kiss me
good night."

Bob entered his mother's room, and went towards the bed. Mrs.
Nancarrow was still a young woman, and looked almost like a girl as she
lay on the snowy pillows.

"Whom was that you were talking to?"

"I--I was thinking, mother."

"Thinking? Thinking aloud?"

"I suppose so."

"What about?"

"About father."

There was a silence for a few seconds. Both felt they were on sacred
ground.

"Mother," said Bob, remembering what Nancy had said to him, "I want to
tell you something. But you won't breathe a word, will you? It's a
profound secret. I mean that you must not mention it to _any one_,
must not speak about it to any one, under any circumstances."

"Of course I won't, if you don't wish it. What is it?"

"I'm engaged to Nancy Tresize."

"What!"

Bob repeated the news.

"Aren't you pleased, mother?"

She lifted herself up in the bed and threw her arms around his neck.

"You don't mean it really, Bob? Why, I never dreamed that such a thing
was possible."

"Neither did I until to-day. I--I--mother, what are you crying about?
Aren't you pleased?"

"Of course I am; but oh, my dear boy! Oh, if only your father had
lived!"

"He knows. I've been telling him," said Bob, who had a strain of the
mystic in his nature. "I'm sure I have his blessing."

"Nancy is the finest, sweetest girl in Cornwall," she cried; "I
couldn't have wished for anything better. I've always loved her. But
I never thought that----"

"Neither did I," interrupted Bob. "It seems too good to be true, but
it is true. I motored Nancy over to Gurnard's Head this afternoon,
and--and it is all se