"Tell me what?" he managed to say, though a terrible fear was
stiffening his lips and throat.

She said dully: "They get shot sometimes. You remember yo'se'f
what that Sister of Charity said last night. I heard Ailsa
cautioning Letty--the little nurse, Miss Lynden----"

"Yes, I know. What else?"

Celia's underlip quivered: "Nothing, only Ailsa told me that she
was ordered to the field hospital fo' duty befo' she went aboard
the commission boat--and she never came back--and there was a
battle all that day----"

"Is that all?" he demanded, rising on one elbow. "Is there
anything else you are concealing?"

"No, Phil. I'd tell you if there was. Perhaps I'm foolish to be
so nervous--but I don't know--that Sister of Charity struck by a
bullet--and to think of Ailsa out there under fire--" She closed
her eyes and sat shivering in the gray chill of the dawn, the tears
silently stealing over her pale cheeks. Berkley stared out of the
window at a confused and indistinct mass of waggons and tents and
moving men, but the light was still too dim to distinguish
uniforms; and presently Celia leaned forward and drew the curtains.

Then she turned and took Berkley's hands in hers.

"Phil, dear," she said softly, "I suspect how it is with you and
Ailsa. Am I indiscreet to speak befo' you give me any warrant?"

He said nothing.

"The child certainly is in love with you. A blind woman could
divine that," continued Celia wistfully. "I am glad, Phil, because
I believe you are as truly devoted to her as she is to you. And
when the time comes--if God spares you both----"

"You are mistaken," he said quietly, "there is no future before us."

She coloured in consternation. "Wh--why I certainly
supposed--believed----"

"Celia!"

"W-what, dear?"

"Don't you _know_ I cannot marry?"

"Why not, Philip?"

"Could I marry Ailsa Craig unless I first told her that my father
and my mother were never married?" he said steadily.

"Oh, Philip!" she cried, tears starting to her eyes again, "do you
think that would weigh with a girl who is so truly and unselfishly
in love with you?"

"You don't understand," he said wearily. "I'd take _that_ chance
now. But do you think me disloyal enough to confess to any woman
on earth what my mother, if she were living, would sacrifice her
very life to conceal?"

He bent his head, supporting it in his hands, speaking as though to
himself:

"I believe that the brain is the vehicle, n