?" queried Rivers.

"The face? Not particularly--why?"

"He has two deep lines between the eyes, and crossing them two lateral
furrows on the forehead. In Sicily they call it the 'cross of
misfortune.'"

"Then it has yet to come," said Blake.

"Late or early," said Rivers, "they assure you it will come. Some men
find their calamities when young, some when they are old, which is
better."

"Let us be thankful that we have no choice," said Blake.

"May God spare you now and always," said Rivers. The habitual melancholy
he dreaded took possession of his face as he rose, adding, "Come, Tom, we
must go."

"And I," said Blake.

"Happy Christmas to you all--and a happier New Year than 1864." They left
John to the letters Josiah placed on the table.

The night was now clear and the stars brilliant, as Penhallow saw Blake
mount his horse and Rivers and McGregor walk away to find the hospital
ambulance. "There at least is peace," said John, as he watched the
Pleiades and the North Star, symbol of unfailing duty. "Well, it is as
good as a sermon, and as it belongs there on eternal guard so do I
belong here for my little day; but I trust the spring will bring us
peace, for--oh, my God!--I want it--and Westways." He went in to his hut
and stirred the fire into roaring companionship.

Meanwhile Rivers, walking with McGregor, said, "Did the figure of that
doomed wretch haunt you as we talked to John?"

"It did indeed! I had never before been ordered to certify to a death
like that, and I hated it even before I bent down and knew who it was."

"How far was he accountable, Tom?"

"Don't ask me riddles like that, Mr. Rivers. It is a subject I have often
thought about. It turns up in many forms--most terribly in the cases of
the sins of the fathers being loaded on the sons. How far is a man
accountable who inherits a family tendency to insanity? Should he marry?
If he falls in love, what ought he to do or not do? It is a pretty grim
proposition, Mr. Rivers."

"He should not marry," replied the clergyman, and both moved on in silent
thought.

"Oh, here is our ambulance," said Tom. They got in, Rivers reflecting how
war, parent of good and evil, had made of this rough country-bred lad a
dutiful, thoughtful man.

Presently McGregor said, "When we were talking of our unpleasant duties,
I meant to tell you that one of them is to tattoo a D--for deserter--on
the breast of some poor homesick fellow. After that his head is sha