IV
One night the Church Hospital lay sleeping. Very softly Janet crept to the organ loft—softer still she played to the moonlight.
He was rapidly improving. His wounds had not been serious. Something—very soft, faint—woke him. For a minute he could not recall his surroundings—and he rose up—but a sharp pain in his shoulder brought back the memory of the trenches, of the horror—
I must be dying—I hear faint music——
The moon shone on something white—
An angel—
Fully awakening to his surroundings Hugh Brandon realized that it was not death—not an angel—
He would go and find out for himself—
Janet barely touched the keys. Softer and softer grew the tones. He came nearer—fascinated as if by a magic presence.
Their eyes met—in the moonlight. They knew that no matter what happened to the rest of the world—no matter what happened to their own bodies—their souls were met for all Eternity.
It was a flash from the unconscious—one of those strange illuminations which occur perhaps once in a hundred lifetimes.
Play on, he whispered. Play for me—for England—whose son I am
At noon when they had eaten—Hugh and Janet slipped away. She played for him. The tones were richer than before. Into the sadness had been poured the burning heat of pure love.