he cable reached Monksmead. And in Lucille's largest
trunk was an article the like of which is rarely to be found in the
baggage of a young lady--nothing more nor less than an ancient rapier
of Italian pattern!...

To Lucille, who knew her lover so well, it seemed that the sight and
feel of the worshipped Sword of his Ancestors must bring him comfort,
self-respect, memories, thoughts of the joint youth and happiness of
himself and her.

She knew what the Sword had been to him, how he had felt a different
person when he held its inspiring hilt, how it had moved him to the
telling of his wondrous dream and stories of its stirring past, how he
had revered and loved it ...surely it must do him good to have it? If
he were stretched upon a bed of sickness, and it were hung where he
could see it, it _must_ help him. It would bring diversion of thought,
cheer him, suggest bright memories--perhaps give him brave dreams
that would usurp the place of bad ones.

If he were well or convalescent it might be even more needful as a
tonic to self-respect, a reminder of high tradition, a message from
dead sires. Yes, surely it must do him good where she could not. If
there were any really insurmountable obstacle to their--their
--union--the Sword could still be with him always, and say
unceasingly: "Do not be world-beaten, son of the de Warrennes and
Stukeleys. Do not despair. Do not be fate-conquered. Fight! Fight!
Look upon me not as merely the symbol of struggle but as the actual
Sword of your actual Fathers. Fight Fate! Die fighting--but do not
live defeated"--but of course her hero Dam needed no such
exhortations. Still--the Sword must be a comfort, a pleasure, a hope,
an inspiration, a symbol. When she brought it him he would understand.
Swords were to sever, but _the_ Sword should be a link--a visible bond
between them, and between them again and their common past.

To her fellow-passengers Lucille was a puzzling enigma. What could be
the story of the beautiful, and obviously wealthy, girl with the
anxious, preoccupied look, whose thoughts were always far away, who
took no interest in the pursuits and pastimes usual to her sex and age
on a long sea voyage; who gave no glance at the wares of local vendors
that came aboard at Port Said and Aden; who occupied her leisure with
no book, no writing, no conversation, no deck-games; and who
constantly consulted her watch as though impatient of the slow flight
of time or the slow prog