"And you will go on being kind?"
"Of course."
Before they reached the hospital door in Park Lane Mrs. Ardayre had been instructed to send an immediate telegram the moment the baby was born, and to comfort and take care of Amaryllis, and tell her son every little detail as to her welfare and about the child.
"I will try not to form any opinion, Denzil; and some day perhaps things will be made plain, for it would break my heart to believe that you are a dishonourable man."
"You need not worry, Mum dearest. Indeed, I am not that. It is just a tragic story, but I cannot say more. Only take care of Amaryllis, and send me news as often as you can."
* * * * *
The telegram to say that Amaryllis had a little son came to John Ardayre on the night before he went into the trenches again at the second battle of Ypres on May 9th, 1915. He had been waiting in feverish impatience and expectancy all the day, and, in fact, for three days for news.
His whole inner life since that New Year's night had been strangely serene, in spite of its frightful outward turmoil and stress. He had taken the tumult of Neuve Chapelle calmly, and had come through it and all the beginning of the Ypres battle without a scratch. He had felt that he was looking upon it all from some detached standpoint, and that it in no way personally concerned him.
He had seen Denzil do the splendid thing and he had felt a distinct distress when he had seen him fall wounded.
Denzil was just back now and in the trenches again with the rest of the dismounted cavalry. They might meet in the attack at dawn.