"He was a Christian," and Bob's voice was very low. "That was why he hated war, and denounced it. That is why I am not going to fight."

"Then every brave, true Englishman will despise you."

"That's nothing," replied Bob; and his voice sounded as though he were weary.

"And what of Nancy?"

"Yes, what of her?"

"I know what she feels, I know that----"

"Mother," Bob interrupted, "I can't bear any more just now; and it's no use talking, my mind's made up."

He left the room as he spoke, and soon after, left the house. He did not have any dinner that night, but spent hours tramping the wild moors at the back of the house. The next day he was in misery. Again and again he reviewed the situation, but he could not change. He could not offer himself to be a legalised murderer, for that was how his country's call appealed to him. It was a battle between Calvary and Militarism, and he could not take the side of Militarism.

When he reached the house in the evening, after a long, lonely walk, his mother pointed to a letter lying on the table.

"It's from Admiral Tresize," he said, after he had read it. "He wants me to go up there to dinner, or as soon afterwards as possible."

"You'll go, of course," said the mother eagerly.

"Yes, I'll go. Of course it is too late for me to get there in time for dinner, but I'll go directly afterwards."

"That's right."

An hour later Bob got out his car, and drove towards Penwennack, with a sad heart. He dreaded what he felt sure was coming, and his heart beat wildly with the hope that he might perhaps see Nancy, and make her understand.

CHAPTER VII

When Bob knocked at the door of the house, he realised that he was expected. Without delay the servant opened the door, and without question at once ushered him into the room which went by the name of "the library," though there was but little indication that the apartment was used as a storehouse for books. Nautical charts, globes, pictures of Dreadnoughts, and things appertaining to naval warfare practically filled up all the available s.p.a.ce.

As Bob entered, he saw the Admiral seated at a table, with a map of Europe spread before him.

"Ah! Bob," cried the Admiral, "glad to see you. I hoped you would have come in for dinner, but I suppose you were busy. I wanted a chat with you, my boy."

The old man spoke with an obvious endeavour to retain his old friendly footing, but it was evident that he was anxious and somewhat nervous.

"This is a terrible business, my boy," he went on; "who would have thought it a month ago? I, who always believed that the Germans meant war, never imagined it would come upon us like this. But, by gad, they have found us ready this time! Never was the mobilisation of the Army and Navy managed with such speed; everything has gone like clockwork--just clockwork. Of course you know that d.i.c.k and George are gone?"

"I heard they were going," said Bob.

"Yes, the young rascals were just mad to go. Naturally I expected it of d.i.c.k, who had just finished his training at Sandhurst; but George was just as keen. I am proud of them too. Yes, my boy, I have lost one son in war, and G.o.d only knows what it meant to me; but I would rather lose these two as well, than that England should not play her part."

Bob was silent; he knew what the Admiral had in his mind, and what he was leading up to.

"I have been thinking a good deal about you, Bob," went on the old man.

"Of course you have been almost one of the family for years; your mother's people and mine have been friends for centuries. Ah! my lad, let the Radicals say what they will, but it's grand to come of a good family. You have to go a long way back in English history before you come to the time when the Trelawneys and Tresizes were not known. They have fought in a hundred battles for their country, and, thank G.o.d, their descendants are ready to do it again. It is a great thing to have a good name, eh, my boy?"

"Yes, sir," replied Bob.

"You told me some time ago that you were in the O.T.C. while you were at Clifton College, and d.i.c.k says that you quite distinguished yourself. I am very glad of that; I have some influence in military quarters, although I am a naval man, and I can arrange for you to have your commission right away. Of course it will be in a Cornish regiment." He did not refer to the conversation which had pa.s.sed between the young men two days before, although Bob felt sure he knew of it, but was a.s.suming his enlistment as a matter of course.

"I have not made up my mind to join," said Bob.

"Not made up your mind to join! Then it is time you should. Every young fellow should join in these days. Of course it will break in upon your law studies and the other things you have in your mind, but, G.o.d willing, we shall get all this business over in a few months, and then you'll be able to come back to your work. You'll not suffer for it, my boy--you'll not suffer."

"It is not that at all, sir," replied the young fellow.

"What is it, then?"

"You knew my father, sir?"

"Knew him--of course I did! A good fellow and an honest man, but, you will excuse me for saying so, a crank."

Bob was silent; he did not dare let himself speak.

"Your father was a Quaker," went on the Admiral, "but your mother was a Trelawney. She told me only a few days ago that if war came, hard as it would be for her, she would not move a finger to keep you from going, even if it meant your going to your death. Come now, I will do all I can to push things forward for you."

"Thank you, sir," replied Bob, "but--but I have made up my mind that I can't."

"In heaven's name, why?"

"Admiral," said Bob, and his voice became tremulous, "do you think it right for a man to undertake anything which his conscience condemns?"

"No, of course not; what has that to do with it?"

"Everything, sir, to me. War is brutal and devilish, opposed to everything I have been taught to believe."

"Do you mean to say," cried the Admiral, "that you are not convinced of the righteousness of this war? Why, my lad, the thing is as plain as the nose on your face. Have you gone through the papers? Have you read the correspondence between the various amba.s.sadors?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then do you not think that Germany has been planning this war for years, and that she has checked every movement for peace?"

"That is debatable, isn't it, sir?"

"Debatable? No! You are not such a fool as to believe that this war is on account of the Servian a.s.sa.s.sination? That is a mere flimsy pretext--one of the flimsiest ever known. I have read all about it to-day. Austria had practically agreed to live at peace with Servia, to allow Servia to retain her independence. The trouble was, to all intents and purposes, patched up, and then Germany insisted on an impossible ultimatum. Austria would never have declared war on Servia had not Germany given her orders to do so. Here is a letter written by Sir Maurice de Bunsen, on July 26. He states plainly that Germany wanted war, that she had schemes in Asia Minor which she wanted to carry out. She believed that by war with Servia she would be able to accomplish her purposes. She believed that Russia would keep quiet during the time Austria worked her will, and as de Bunsen says, 'Germany knew very well what she was about in backing up Austria-Hungary in this matter.'"

"Yes, sir, that is all very well, but that does not make war right.

Personally, I find it easy to believe that Germany was the aggressor in this case; I believe, too, that Russia decided to stand by Servia not for the sake of the Servians, but for her own interests; that does not justify her in dragging the whole of Europe into war."

"Yes, but are you mad, my boy? The Servian business was only the beginning of it. Of course, when Russia prepared to protect Servia, Germany, knowing that the war she had been trying to bring about must come some time, declared war on Russia. Then, without giving France a chance, she invaded Luxemburg and French territory; don't you see?"

"I do not see how that makes war right, sir."