Gone--gone forever--for in the long months that followed how often did I
recall that joyful toast, and now, a year later, as I write these lines,
I know for certain that none of them will ever make that "safe return."

Elizabeth Gauthier bore up wonderfully under the strain. She was the
first to admit that after all it would have been too trying to say
good-bye to her husband. H. and I then decided that it was best for her
to bring her children and maid and come over to the chateau where we
would share our lot in common. There was no time for lamenting--for the
sudden disappearance of cook, butler, and the three most important
farm-hands, left a very large breach which had to be filled at once.
There was nothing to do but to "double up," and the girls and women
willingly offered to do their best.

Julie, the only person over thirty, offered to take over the kitchen. To
George and Leon fell the gardens, the stables, the horses, dogs, pigs
and cattle. Yvonne, aged seventeen, offered to milk the cows, make
butter and cheese, look after the chickens and my duck farm, while
Berthe and Nini, aged fourteen and ten, were left to take care of the
chateau! Not a very brilliant equipment to run as large an
establishment as ours, but all so willing and so full of good humour
that things were less neglected than one might imagine.

The excitement of the day had been such that after a very hasty meal we
retired exhausted at an early hour. The night was still--so still that
though four miles from the station we could hear the roar of the trains
as they passed along the river front.

"Hark!" said H. "How close together they are running!"