ringing, she felt so happy. For Dion's return had not made any
difference; or, if it had made a difference, she did not actively regret
it. The child's new adoration of his father had made her care more for
Dion, and even more for Robin; for she felt that Robin was unconsciously
loving in his father a strength and a nobility which were new in Dion,
which had been born far away across the sea. War destroys, and all the
time war is destroying it is creating. Robin was holding a little bit of
what the South African War had created as he held his father's hand. For
are not the profound truths of the soul conveyed through all its temple?

"Happiness is a mystery," thought Rosamund.

And then she silently thanked God that this mystery was within herself,
and that she felt it in Robin and in Dion.

She looked down at her little son, and as she met his soft and yet
ardent eyes,--full of innocent anxiety, and almost of awe, about Mr.
Thrush,--she blessed the day when she had decided to marry Dion, when
she had renounced certain dreams, when she had taken the advice of the
man who was now her friend and had resolved to tread that path of life
in which she could have a companion.

Her companion had given her another companion. In the old gray
Cathedral, full of the silent voices of men who had prayed and been
gathered to their rest long since, Rosamund looked down the way of
happiness, and she could not see its end.

The five minutes' bell stopped and Robin sat up very straight in the
pew. The Bishop's wife proceeded to her stall with a friend. Robin
stared reverently, alert for the tribute to Mr. Thrush. Miss Piper
glided in sideways, holding her head down as if she were searching for
a dropped pin on the pavement. She, too, was an acquaintance of Robin's,
and he whispered to his mother:

"Miss Piper's come to see Mr. Thrush."

"Yes, darling."

What a darling he was in his anxiety for his old friend! She looked at
the freckles on the bridge of his little nose and longed to kiss them.
This was without doubt the most wonderful day in Robin's life so far.
She looked ahead and saw how many wonderful days for Robin! And over his
fair hair she glanced at Dion, and she felt Dion's thought hand in hand
with hers.

A long sigh came from the organ, and then Mr. Dickinson was at work
preluding Mr. Thrush. Distant steps sounded on the pavement behind
the choir screen coming from some hidden place at the east end of the
Cathedral.