"If we had been born sixty years ago, Denzil, what different thoughts this view would be creating in our minds. We would have no speculation—no uncertainty—we should feel just happy that it is ours and would be ours for ever! The world was asleep then!"
"Stépan would say that it was resting before the throes of struggle must begin. Now we are going to face something much greater than the actual war in France, but if we are strong we ought to come through. We have always been saner than other peoples, so perhaps our upheaval will be saner too."
"Whatever there is to face, we shall be together, Denzil, and nothing can really matter then—and we must make our little Benedict armed for the future, so that he will be fitted to cope with the conditions of his day."
"Look there at the blue distance, darling, could anything be more peaceful? How can anyone in the country realise that not two hundred miles away this awful war is grinding on?"
Denzil put an arm round her and drew her close to him and clasped her fondly.
"But just for a little we must try to forget about it. I never dreamed of such perfect happiness as we are having, Sweetheart,—my own!"
"Nor I, Denzil,—I am almost afraid—"
But he kissed her passionately and bade this thought begone. Afraid of what? Nothing mattered since they would always be together. February would soon come, and then they would never part again.
So the vague foreboding passed from Amaryllis' heart, and in fond visionings they whispered plans for the spring and the summer and the growing years. And so at last they returned to the house and found the after-noon post waiting for them. Filson had just brought it in and Amaryllis' letters lay in a pile on her writing table.
There happened to be none for Denzil and he went over to the fireplace and was stroking the head of Mercury, the greatest of the big tawny dogs, when he was startled by a little ominous cry from his Beloved, and on looking up he saw that she had sunk into a chair, her face deadly pale, while there had fluttered to the floor at her feet a torn envelope and a foreign looking postcard.