s
not very strong, but----"

"If I don't tell, it won't be because of her. It will be for
you--always, everything, for you! But I haven't decided yet. I don't
know what I shall do yet. I must think. You'll have to make the best of
that compromise unless you change your mind."

"I shall not change my mind," I said.

CHAPTER XXIX

Later, Padre, when I'd broken away from Julian, I wondered if he had
made up the whole story. The cruel trick would be impishly
characteristic! But I went straight to the concierge to ask about
Muller. He said that a man of that name had called the night before,
inquiring for me, and had talked with "the Monsieur who looked like an
Italian." This practically convinced me that Julian hadn't lied.

If only I could get direct advice from you! Do try to send me an
inspiration of what to do for the best.

My first impulse was to give Mother Beckett a faint hint of hope. But I
dared not run the risk. If Paul Herter proved to be mistaken, it would
be for her like losing her son a second time, and the dear one's
strength might not be equal to the strain. After thinking and unthinking
all night, I decided to keep silent until our two men returned from the
British front. Then, perhaps, I might tell Brian of the message from
Doctor Paul, and ask his opinion about speaking to Father Beckett. As
for myself, I resolved not to make any confession, unless it were
certain that Jim lived. And I'm not sure, Padre, whether that decision
was based on sheer, selfish cowardice, or whether I founded it partly on
the arguments I presented to myself. I said in my mind: "If it's true
that everything you did in the beginning was for Brian's good, why undo
it all at the most critical hour of his life, when perhaps there may
never be any reason to speak?" Also I said: "Why make it impossible for
yourself to give Mother Beckett the care she needs, and can hardly do
without yet? Every day counts with her now. Why not wait unless you hear
again more definitely?"

The annoying part of a specious argument is that there's always some
truth in it, and it seems like kind advice from wise friends!

Anyhow, I _did_ wait. Julian made no further appeal to me, and I felt
sure that he said nothing to Dierdre. If he had taken her into his
confidence, I should have known by her manner; because, from the
shut-up, night-flower of a girl that she was, she has rather
pathetically opened out for me into a daylight flower. All t