"Amaryllis,"—his voice was husky still, "yes—I will be your friend, darling—and I will love your child. I was very wrong to marry you, but it was not quite hopeless then, and you were so young and splendid and living—and I was growing to love you, and for these reasons I hoped against hope—and then when I knew that everything was impossible—I felt that I must make it up to you in every other way I could. I don't know how to put things into words, I always was dull, but I thought if I gratified all your wishes perhaps—Ah!—I see it was very cruel. Darling, I would have told you the truth—presently—but then the war came, and the thought of Ferdinand here drove me mad and it forced my hand."
She looked up at him with her sweet true eyes—her one idea was now to comfort him since she need no longer fear.
"John, if you had explained the whole thing to me—I do not know, perhaps I should have agreed with you, for I, too, have much of this family pride, and I cannot bear to think of Ferdinand—or his children which may be, at Ardayre. I might have voluntarily consented—I cannot be sure. But somehow just lately I have been thinking very much about spiritual things, things I mean beyond the material, those great forces which must be all around us, and I have wondered if we are not perhaps too ignorant yet to upset any laws. Perhaps I am stupid—I don't know really. I have only been wondering—but perhaps there are powerful currents connected with laws, whether they are just or unjust, simply because of the force of people's thoughts for hundreds of years around them."
They went to the sofa then and sat down. It made John happier to hear her talk. His strong will was now conquering the outward show of his emotion at last.
"It may be so—"
"You see, supposing anything should happen to Ferdinand," she went on, "then Denzil would have been naturally the next heir—and now—if the child is a boy—"
John started.
"We neither of us thought of that."
"But nothing is likely to happen to Ferdinand; he won't enlist—it is only you, dear John, who are in danger, and Denzil, too—but surely the war cannot go on long now?"
John wondered if he should tell her what he really felt about this, or whether it were wiser to keep her quietly in this hopeful dream of a speedy end. He decided to say nothing; it was better for her health not to agitate her mind—events would speak for themselves, alas, presently.