e got the sadness of the whole world
in them. They seem as if they were begging for help, and didn't know
where on earth it was coming from. Was that a true impression? I waited
to ask you this, even more than to see you again."

"It is true," I confessed. "There's only this difference between my
feelings and your impression of them. I _know_ there's no help on earth
for me. Such help as there is, I get from another place. Do you remember
how I used to talk about the dear Padre who was our guardian--my
brother's and mine--and how I told him nearly everything good and bad
that I thought or did? Well, he went to the front as a chaplain and he
has been killed. But I go on writing him letters, exactly as if he could
give me advice and comfort, or scold me in the old way."

"What about your brother? The girl--Miss O'Farrell she called herself, I
think--said he was with you on this journey. And to-day I recognized him
at Soeur Julie's, from his likeness to you. I shouldn't have guessed
he was blind. He has a beautiful face. Do you get no comfort from him?"

"Much comfort from his presence and love," I said. "But I try to keep
him happy. I don't bother him with my troubles. I won't even let him
talk of them. They're taboo."

"I wish _I_ could help you!" Herter exclaimed.

"Your wish is a help."

"Ah, but I'd like to give more than that! I'm going away--that's the
third thing I wanted to tell you. A little while ago I was glad to be
going (so far as it's in me, nowadays, to be glad of anything) because
I--I've been given a sort of--mission. Since we've had this talk, I'd
put off going if I could. But I can't. Is your brother's case past
cure?"

"It's not absolutely hopeless. Doctor Paul, this is a confidence! It's
to try and cure him that I'm with the Becketts. He doesn't know--and I
can't explain more to you. But a specialist in Paris ordered Brian a
life in the open air, and as much pleasure and interest as possible. You
see, it's the optic nerve that was paralyzed in a strange way by shell
shock. Some day Brian's sight may--just _possibly_ may--come back all of
a sudden."

"Ah, that's interesting. I'm not an oculist, but I know one or two of
the best men, who have made great reputations since this war. Who was
your specialist in Paris?"

I told him.

"A good man," he pronounced, "but I have a friend who is better. I'll
write you a letter to him. You can send it if you choose. That's one
service I can do for you,