Chapter 42

The dream had come back and Robin walked about the moor carrying her
baby in her arms, even though Dowie followed her. She laid him on the
heather and let him listen to the skylarks and there was in her face
such a look, that, in times past if she had seen it, Dowie would have
believed that it could only mean translation from earth.

But when Lord Coombe came for a brief visit he took Dowie to walk alone
with him upon the moor. When they set out together she found herself
involuntarily stealing furtive sidelong glances at him. There was that
in his face which drew her eyes in spite of her. It was a look so
intense and new that once she caught her breath, trembling. It was then
that he turned to look at her and began to talk. He began--and went
on--and as she listened there came to her sudden flooding tears and more
than once a loud startled sob of joy.

"But he begs that she shall not see him until he is less ghastly to
behold. He says the memory of such a face would tell her things she must
never know. His one thought is that she must not know. Things happen to
a man's nerves when he has seen and borne the ultimate horrors. Men have
gone mad under the prolonged torture. He sometimes has moments of
hideous collapse when he cannot shut out certain memories. He is more
afraid of such times than of anything else. He feels he must get hold of
himself."

Dowie's step slackened until it stopped. Her almost awed countenance
told him what she felt she must know or perish. He felt that she had her
rights and one of them was the right to be told. She had been a strong
tower of honest faith and love.

"My lord, might I ask if you have told him--all about it?"

"Yes, Dowie," he answered. "All is well and no one but ourselves will
ever know. The marriage in the dark old church is no longer a marriage.
Only the first one--which he can prove--stands."

The telling of his story to Donal had been a marvellous thing because he
had so controlled its drama that it had even been curiously undramatic.
He had made it a mere catalogued statement of facts. As Donal had lain
listening his heart had seemed to turn over in his breast.

"If I had _known_ you!" he panted low. "If we had known each other! We
did not!"

Later, bit by bit, he told him of Jackson--only of Jackson. He never
spoke of other things. When put together the "bit by bit" amounted to
this:

"He was a queer, simple sort of American. He was full of ideals and a
kind of unbounded belief in his country. He had enlisted in Canada at
the beginning. He always believed America would come in. He was sure the
Germans knew she would and that was why they hated