feated, ultimately,--and we shall deserve to be defeated. But I
rather think that neither of these alternatives will be the result. I
rather think that the test of war will show that there are elements in
German civilization which are better than ours, and elements in our
civilization which are better than theirs, and that the good elements
will survive and form the basis of a new civilization better than
either."

"If that is so," Dave replied, "if this war is but the working out of
immutable law which proposes to put all the elements of civilization to
the supreme test and retain only those which are justifiable by that
test, why should I--or any one else--fight? And," he added as an
after-thought, "what about that principle of forgiveness?"

"We must fight," she answered, "because it is the law that we must
fight; because it is only by fighting that we can justify the
principles for which we fight. If we hold our principles as being not
worth fighting for the new civilization will throw those principles in
the discard. And that, too, covers the question of forgiveness.
Forgiveness, in fact, does not enter into the consideration at all. We
must fight, not because we hate Germany, but because we love certain
principles which Germany is endeavouring to overthrow. The impulse
must be love, not hate."

She had turned and faced him while she spoke, and he felt himself
strangely carried away by the earnestness and fervour of her argument.
What a wonderful woman she was! How she had stripped the issue of the
detail and circumstance which was confusing even statesmen, and laid it
before him in positive terms which he could find no argument to
dispute! And how in his hour of distress, when he stood on the verge
of utter recklessness and indifference, she had infused into him a
strange and new ambition--an ambition which deepened and enriched every
phase of life, and yet which held life itself less worthy than its own
attainment! And as he looked at her he again thought of Irene, and
suddenly he felt himself engulfed in a great tenderness, and he knew
that even yet----

"What am I to do?" he said. "I am willing to accept your philosophy.
I admit that mine has broken down, and I am willing to try yours. What
am I to do?"

In the darkness of her own shadow she set her teeth for that answer.
It was to be the crowning act of her self-renunciation, and it strained
every fibre of her resolution. She could not allow