on of Honor "_for conspicuous public
service_." What a day it was, to be sure, when Madam Coquenil first caught
sight of that precious red badge on her son's coat!

So we leave Paul Coquenil resting and recuperating in the Vosges Mountains,
taking long drives with his mother and planning the rebuilding of their
mountain home.

"You did your work, Paul, and I'm proud of you," the old lady said when she
heard the tragic tale, "but don't forget, my boy, it was the hand of God
that saved you."

"Yes, mother," he said fondly, and added with a mischievous smile, "don't
forget that you had a little to do with it, too."

As for the lovers, there is only this to be said: that they were
ridiculously, indescribably happy. The mystery of Alice's strange dreams
and clairvoyant glimpses (it should be Mary) was in great part accounted
for, so Dr. Duprat declared, by certain psychological abnormalities
connected with her loss of memory; these would quickly disappear, he
thought, with a little care and a certain electrical treatment that he
recommended. Lloyd was positive kisses would do the thing just as well; at
any rate, he proposed to give this theory a complete test.

The young American had one grievance.

"It's playing it low on a fellow," he said, "when he's just squared himself
to hustle for a poor candle seller to change her into a howling
millionaire. I'd like to know how the devil I'm going to be a hero now?"

"Silly boy," she laughed, her radiant eyes burning on him, at which he
threatened to begin the treatment forthwith.

"You darling!" he cried. "My little Alice! Hanged if I can _ever_ call you
anything but Alice!"

She looked up at him archly and nestled close.

"Lloyd, dear, I know a nicer name than Alice."

"Yes?"

"A nicer name than Mary."

"Yes?"

"A nicer name than _any_ name."

"What is it, you little beauty?" he murmured, drawing her closer still and
pressing his lips to hers.

"How can I--tell you--unless you--let me--speak?" she panted.

Then, with wonderful dancing lights in those deep, strange windows of her
soul, she whispered: "The nicest name in the world _for me_ is--_Mrs. Lloyd
Kittredge!_"

THE END

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Through the Wall, by Cleveland Moffett

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