nscrupulousness and rapacity, and the tales of the
terrific fighting with the English and French vanguards reached their
ears and made them long to be doing something, however small, to aid the
great cause. Max, in addition, had a constant sense of irritation at the
thought that his father's great works were running night and day in the
interests of the Germans and to the vast injury of his own countrymen.
He could not get away from the feeling that he had a responsibility
towards the Durend works--a responsibility which he seemed in honour
bound to discharge. This feeling grew and grew until it became so
intolerable that he was impelled to announce to his mother that he must,
without delay, return to his post in the stricken city.

"But surely you have done enough, Max?" cried Madame Durend, almost in
consternation. "You are not yet of man's age, and ought not to think of
taking upon yourself such fearful tasks. It is no fault of yours that
our property is being used by the Germans. Many other factories and
workshops besides ours have been seized, and who can fairly put the
blame upon the owners?"

"I know, Mother," replied Max in a quiet voice, and with a far-away look
in his eyes. "I know it is no fault of ours. But our workmen--the
faithful and real Belgian workmen--are there bearing alone in silence
the pain and misery of seeing the great business they helped to create
worked to the destruction of their own liberties. They feel nothing so
much as the thought that their masters have deserted them, and left them
to fight the battle for their land and liberties alone. I must go back
and join them, if only to let them know we are with them, hand and foot,
heart and soul. I feel, Mother, that so long as one workman still holds
out against tyranny and oppression, the owners of the Durend workshops
must be by his side to give him both countenance and aid."

Max's voice grew stronger, and thrilled with a deeper and deeper
earnestness, as he went on. It was clear to each of his hearers that the
guardianship of his father's works had become the one great object and
aim of his existence. With such a burning, passionate desire in his
heart, it was almost impossible that he could be persuaded to abandon
his project if he were not to be rendered miserable for life, and Madame
Durend realized almost at once that she dare not attempt it. But the
thought of the desperate character of the undertaking made her mother's
heart sink w