They hear the birds of paradise singing in the bowers of Eden, while he hears only the croaking of the raven.

They got back to realities presently. Bob's new-found joy had led him to the realisation of the future.

"I'm going to speak to your father to-night, Nancy. I know he'll be angry, but that I don't mind a bit."

"No, Bob, you must not speak to him—at least not yet."

"Why?"

"Because he'll refuse, and you mustn't speak to him until you can make him consent."

"I don't understand, Nancy."

"You see, he has exactly the same feeling that I have about men. He would never consent to my being the wife of a book-worm."

"Oh, I've thought that all out while I've been here," replied Bob confidently. "Yes, I know I've been unpractical—a dreamer, in fact. But I'm going to alter all that. Now you've told me—that—that you love me, I feel I must become a man of action. You've wakened something in me that I didn't know existed. I haven't been half alive. I've imagined that only thoughts, ideas mattered; now I know differently. I've lived only half-life. Mark you, I don't altogether go back upon my faith—I only add a new element to it. I've always said that we owe everything to thought. I've said that thoughts covered the seas with floating cities, and converted the world into a whispering-gallery. That thoughts have belted the globe with electric currents, and given us untold blessings. Now I know that I've stated only half a truth. The man who is simply a man of ideas, is like a bird trying to fly with one wing. There must be action to put the ideas into use. Oh, yes, I see it all."

"Yes, yes, Bob; and what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to study for the Bar. I'm going to set about it right away. And then I'm going into Parliament. I've big ideas, Nancy—big ideas about governments, and about reforms in our laws. There are great things that want doing, and I'm going to do them. I'm going to get at the helm of government, and destroy abuses. I am not going to be content by writing books about what is needed; I'm going to see that my ideas take shape in the laws of the country, and effect the betterment of the world."

Please do not smile at Robert Nancarrow's somewhat highfalutin talk, and set him down as a conceited prig. Every young fellow who has ever done or been anything in the world, has at some time in his life had such thoughts. Sad will it be for England as a nation when our boys do not dream impossible dreams, and think thoughts which wiseacres call foolishness.

"That's splendid, Bob!" cried Nancy, her eyes sparkling. "I should love you to go into Parliament—love to hear you speak in the House of Commons. Why, you might be elected for St. Ia! Dad has at great deal of influence there too, and could get you nominated. But what things would you advocate?"

"I know," cried Bob. "I am going to create a peace party in England. Yes, I know some of your people have been soldiers, while my mother glories in the fact that many of the Trelawneys have been and are in the Army. But think of the horrors of war. Even now Europe is said to be sitting on a powder-barrel. Every nation in Europe is being bled to death, in order to pay war taxes, even although at present there isn't a shadow of war in the sky. Money that might be spent, and should be spent, on the betterment of the lives of the people and destroying, the possibility of poverty and want, is spent in Dreadnoughts and weapons to kill. Hundreds of millions are being spent on the Army and Navy, while paltry sums are grudged for education and all those things which go to make up the manhood of the nation."

"Yes, I know war is terrible, ghastly. But how can you stop it? You wouldn't advocate the destruction of our Army and Navy. It would be madness, it would——"

"Not yet," interrupted Bob eagerly. "I would labour for a great European movement. Take Germany for example. The Germans are worse taxed than we are to pay for armaments, but the people don't want war. They are a peace-loving people. The Kaiser doesn't want war. He's said so a hundred times. The Czar of Russia doesn't want war. And yet hundreds upon hundreds of millions of money are being spent on war implements, while the people want bread. Besides, a ghastly, warlike, unchristian spirit is kept alive by this eternal talk about the possibilities of war. What is wanted is an agreement among the Governments of nations that there shall be no war. We want to create an anti-war spirit in the hearts of the people, and so kill the terrible thing at the fountain-head."

"Yes, yes," cried the girl, "if all the nations could be persuaded to disarm, it would be splendid! But, but——"

"It can be done," cried Bob. "I will give my life to it. Everybody hates war in the abstract, but no one seems to throw himself heart and soul into a great peace crusade. Even the Peace Society is half-hearted. The cause of Peace hasn't been voiced of late years. That's it," and Bob rose to his feet excitedly; "I see my work, Nancy. Neither your father nor any one else shall say that I'm unpractical, or that I sit still and do nothing. Think of the glory of such a cause! Think of destroying for ever the ghastly horrors of war, of helping to bring about universal peace."

"Yes," replied Nancy, "it would be glorious, simply glorious. I was only very little when the Boer War broke out, and when my eldest brother Roger went away to it, father gave a dinner, and all our friends came to bid him good-bye. Although I was only a kiddie, I was allowed to sit up to it, and I remember some of the speeches that were made. They promised him that he should be made a colonel and all that sort of thing, and there was such laughing and shouting. Every one imagined it would be over in a few weeks; it seemed such a little thing to crush a few Boer farmers. After that I used to watch dad's face as he read his newspaper, and wondered what he was so sad about. Then one day some one brought him a letter which almost killed him. I shall never forget it. He staggered as though some one had struck him a blow, and groaned as if he were in agony. Roger was killed. It added years to dad's life, and he's never been the same since."

"War is that kind of thing multiplied thousands of times," said Bob. "There were unnumbered homes in England, yes, and in South Africa too, desolated by that war, when—when it ought to have been avoided. Yes, my mind's made up. I'm going into Parliament, and I'm going to make war against war. The holiest and most Christlike work a man can undertake. Shan't I tell your father to-night, Nancy?"

"No, no, not yet. I'm afraid he might—— I'll prepare him little by little, and then, when the proper time comes, I'll tell you. But, Bob," and the girl laughed gaily, "I had almost to propose to you, hadn't I?"

"No," replied Bob. "I did the proposing, and you did the lecturing. That's what it'll be all our lives, I expect; but what do I care, as long as I have you?"

"I—I was afraid you were going to be a coward, though."

"And you don't like cowards?"

She became serious in a moment. "If there's anything I hate and despise, it's cowardice," she cried. "I think I could forgive anything but that. It's—it's beneath even contempt. Hark, what's that?"

They heard a rustling sound behind them, and saw, close by, a newspaper blown towards them by the light summer breeze.

Bob put out his hand and caught it. "It's to-day's paper," he said.
"I haven't looked at mine to-day."

He read it almost mechanically. Neither dreamed that this