ap of information?"

"I don't know," she said, quietly; "I only saw him making maps.
Listen! there are two secrets that my father possesses, and they
are both in writing. I do not know where he keeps them, but I
know what they are. Shall I tell you? Then listen--I shall
whisper. One is the chemical formula for the silvery dust, the
gas of which can fill a balloon in five seconds. The other
is--you will be astonished--the plan for a navigable balloon!"

"Has he tried it?"

"A dozen times. I went up twice. It steers like a ship."

"Do people know this, too?"

"Germany does. Once we sailed, papa and I, up over our forest and
across the country to the German frontier. We were not very high;
we could see the soldiers at the custom-house, and they saw us,
and--would you believe it?--they fired their horrid guns at
us--pop! pop! pop! But we were too quick; we simply sailed back
again against the very air-currents that brought us. One bullet
made a hole in the silk, but we didn't come down. Papa says a
dozen bullets cannot bring a balloon down, even when they pierce
the silk, because the air-pressure is great enough to keep the
gas in. But he says that if they fire a shell, that is what is to
be dreaded, for the gas, once aflame!--that ends all. Dear me! we
talk a great deal of war--you and I. It is time for me to go."

They rose in the moonlight; he gave her back her fan. For a full
minute they stood silent, facing each other. She broke a lily
from its stem, and drew it out of the cluster at her breast. She
did not offer it, but he knew it was his, and he took it.

"Symbol of France," she whispered.

"Symbol of Lorraine," he said, aloud.

A deep boom, sullen as summer thunder, shook the echoes awake
among the shrouded hills, rolling, reverberating, resounding,
until the echoes carried it on from valley to valley, off into
the world of shadows.

The utter silence that followed was broken by a call, a gallop of
hoofs on the gravel drive, the clink of stirrups, the snorting of
hard-run horses.

Somebody cried, "A telegram for you, Ricky!" There was a patter
of feet on the terrace, a chorus of voices: "What is it, Ricky?"
"Must you go at once?" "Whatever is the matter?"

The young German soldier, very pale, turned to the circle of
lamp-lit faces.

"France and Germany--I--I--"

"What?" cried Sir Thorald, violently.

"War was declared at noon to-day!"

Lorraine gave a gasp and reached out one hand. Jack Marche