ay optimism they had given him a
month or two of absence from the regiment. But even in a month or
two--where would the regiment be? Far, far away from Frelus. Would
she ever see Doggie again?

To distract herself she went down the village street, bareheaded, and
up the lane that led to the little church. The church was empty, cool,
and smelt of the hill-side. Before the tinsel-crowned, mild-faced
image of the Virgin were spread the poor votive offerings of the
village. And Jeanne sank on her knees, and bowed her head, and,
without special prayer or formula of devotion, gave herself into the
hands of the Mother of Sorrows.

She walked back comforted, vaguely conscious of a strengthening of
soul. In the vast cataclysm of things her own hopes and fears and
destiny mattered very little. If she never saw Doggie again, if Doggie
recovered and returned to the war and was killed, her own grief
mattered very little. She was but a stray straw, and mattered very
little. But what mattered infinitely, what shone with an immortal
flame, though it were never so tiny, was the Wonderful Spiritual
Something that had guided Doggie through the jaws of death.

* * * * *

That evening she had a long talk in the kitchen with Phineas. The news
of Doggie's safety had been given out by Willoughby, without any
details. Mo Shendish had leaped about her like a fox-terrier, and she
had laughed, with difficulty restraining her tears. But to Phineas
alone she told her whole story. He listened in bewilderment. And the
greater the bewilderment, the worse his crude translations of English
into French. She wound up a long, eager speech by saying:

"He has done this for me. Why?"

"Love," replied Phineas bluntly.

"It is more than love," said Jeanne, thinking of the Wonderful
Spiritual Something.

"If you could understand English," said Phineas, "I would enter into
the metaphysics of the subject with pleasure, but in French it is
beyond me."

Jeanne smiled, and turned to the matter-of-fact.

"He will go to England now that he is wounded?"

"He's on the way now," said Phineas.

"Has he many friends there? I ask, because he talks so little of
himself. He is so modest."

"Oh, many friends. You see, mademoiselle," said Phineas, with a view
to setting her mind at rest, "Doggie's an important person in his part
of the country. He was brought up in luxury. I know, because I lived
with him as his tutor for seven ye