r happiness,
but not my love."

She only heard the last words of his answer, and with brightening eyes
flung herself on his breast.

"Then scold me as you like, you martinet! I will put up with anything
patiently, if only I know that you still love me, and that you will be
mine, all mine, as soon as this terrible war no longer stands between us
like a frightful spectre."

He did not return her caresses, and gently pushed her from him.

"Forgive me, if I must leave you now," he said in a singularly depressed
voice, "but I must be in Antwerp by daybreak."

"Is it really so urgent? May I not go with you?"

"No, that is impossible, for I shall have to travel on an engine."

"And when will you return?"

Heideck turned away his face.

"I don't know. Perhaps I shall be sent on further, so that I shall have
no opportunity of saying good-bye to you."

"In other words, you don't mean to see me again? You are silent. You
cannot have the heart to deceive me. Must I remind you that you have
sworn to belong to me, if you survive this war?"

"If I survive it--yes!"

The tone of his reply struck her like a blow. She had no need to look at
him again, to know what was passing in his mind. Now for the first
time she understood that there was no further hope for her. Heideck had
spoken the truth, when he said he still loved her, and the horror which
he felt at her conduct did not, according to his conscience, release him
from his word. But as he at the same time felt absolutely certain that
he could never make a traitress to her country his wife, his idea of
the honour of a man and officer drove him to the only course which could
extricate him from this fearful conflict of duties.

He had sworn to marry her, if he survived the war. And since he could no
more keep his oath than break it, he had at this moment decided to put
an end to the struggle by seeking death, which his calling made it so
easy for him to find. With the keen insight of a woman in love Edith
read his mind like an open book. She knew him so well that she never for
a moment cherished the illusion that she could alter his mind by prayers
or tears. She knew that this man was ready to sacrifice everything for
her--everything save honour. Her mind had never been fuller of humble
admiration than at the moment when the knowledge that she had lost him
for ever spread a dark veil over all her sunny hopes of the future.

She did not say a word; and when her silence