And as she thought of him, her woman's soul, winged by its
passion of patriotism, seemed to pass out into the night across the
sea, till it stood beside the English hosts.
'Forces and Powers of the Universe, be with them!--strengthen the
strong, uphold the weak, comfort the dying!--for in them lies the
hope of the world.'
Her life hung on the prayer. The irresponsive quiet of the night
over the Mannering woods and park, with nothing but the wind for
voice, seemed to her unbearable. And it only answered to the apathy
within doors. Why, the Squire had scarcely mentioned the war since
her return! Neither he nor Mrs. Gaddesden had asked her for an
evening paper, though there had been a bad London raid the night
before. She had seen a letter 'on active service,' and addressed,
she thought, in Desmond's handwriting, lying on the library table;
and it seemed to her there was a French ordnance map near it. But in
answer to her enquiries about the boy, the Squire had vouchsafed
only a few irritable words, 'Well--he's not killed yet! The devil's
business over there seems to be working up to a greater hell than
ever!' Nothing more.
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