of night, they seemed to leave behind
them tracks of fire that lingered on the dazzled retina long after
they had disappeared. The explosion of the incendiary shells was
even more spectacular; the burning matter of the chemical charge
fell from them in showers of clear blue and golden stars, dropping
slowly toward the unseen river below.

He could distinguish the majestic thunder of the huge mortars from
the roar of the Parrotts; the irregular volleys of musketry had a
resonant clang of metal in them like thousands of iron balls
dropped on a sheet of tin.

For an hour the distant display of fireworks continued, then the
thunder rolled away, deadened to a dull rumour, and died out; and
the last lingering spark of Greek fire faded in mid-heaven. A
wavering crimson light brightened on the horizon, increasing,
deepening. But what it was that had been set on fire he could not
guess. Paigecourt lay in that direction.

He extended his booted legs, propped his back against a pillar, and
continued smoking carefully and economically to save his fragments
of Virginia leaf, deeply absorbed in retrospection.

For the first time he was now certain of the change which time,
circumstance, and environment had wrought in himself; he was
curiously conscious of the silent growth of a germ which, one day,
must become a dictatorial and arbitrary habit--the habit of right
thinking. The habit of duty, independent of circumstances, had
slowly grown with his military training; mind and body had learned
automatically to obey; mind and body now definitely recognised the
importance of obedience, were learning to desire it, had begun to
take an obscure sort of pride in it. Mind and body were already
subservient to discipline. How was it with his other self.

In the human soul there is seldom any real perplexity. Only the
body reasons; the soul knows. He knew this now. He knew, too,
that there is a greater drill-master than that which was now
disciplining his mind and body--the spiritual will--that there is a
higher sentiment than the awakened instinct of mental and physical
obedience--the occult loyalty of the spirit. And, within him,
something was now awaking out of night, slowly changing him, soul
and body.

As he sat there, tranquil, pondering, there came a shadowy figure,
moving leisurely under the lighted windows of the hospital,
directly toward him--a man swinging a lantern low above the
grass--and halted beside him in a