g through. So far
from blaming her for it, he knew that it could not be otherwise, for her
blood called to her, even as his to him, while somewhere in the onrush
of those advancing and devouring waves was her brother, with whom, so it
had often seemed to him, she was one soul. Thus, while in that his whole
sympathy and whole comprehension of her love was with him, there was as
well all that deep, silent English patriotism of which till now he had
scarcely been conscious, praying with mute entreaty that disaster and
destruction and defeat might overwhelm those advancing hordes. Once,
when the anxiety and peril were at their height, he made up his mind not
to see her that day, and spent the evening by himself. But later, when
he was actually on his way to bed, he knew he could not keep away from
her, and though it was already midnight, he drove down to Chelsea, and
found her sitting up, waiting for the chance of his coming.

For a moment, as she greeted him and he kissed her silently, they
escaped from the encompassing horror.

"Ah, you have come," she said. "I thought perhaps you might. I have
wanted you dreadfully."

The roar of artillery, the internecine strife were still. Just for a
few seconds there was nothing in the world for him but her, nor for her
anything but him.

"I couldn't go to bed without just seeing you," he said. "I won't keep
you up."

They stood with hands clasped.

"But if you hadn't come, Michael," she said, "I should have understood."

And then the roar and the horror began again. Her words were the
simplest, the most directly spoken to him, yet could not but evoke the
spectres that for the moment had vanished. She had meant to let her
love for him speak; it had spoken, and instantly through the momentary
sunlight of it, there loomed the fierce and enormous shadow. It could
not be banished from their most secret hearts; even when the doors
were shut and they were alone together thus, it made its entrance,
ghost-like, terrible, and all love's bolts and bars could not keep it
out. Here was the tragedy of it, that they could not stand embraced with
clasped hands and look at it together and so rob it of its terrors, for,
at the sight of it, their hands were loosened from each other's, and in
its presence they were forced to stand apart. In his heart, as surely
as he knew her love, Michael knew that this great shadow under which
England lay was shot with sunlight for Sylvia, that the anxiety, th