"You wouldn't," she said. "You'd think of ME—and you'd remember that I love you—and that I have given you up—and all the rest, so I could be his wife—and rule him…. And you wouldn't make it all futile by killing him…. Then I'd be helpless. I've got to have him to—to do the rest."
She went to him, and stroked his black, waving hair—so gently.
"Go now, my dear," she said. "You've got to rise to this with me. You've got to sustain me…. Go now…. My mind is made up. I see my way…." Her voice trembled pitifully. "Oh, I see my way—and it is hard, HARD…."
"No," he cried, struggling to his feet.
"Yes," she said, softly. "Good-by…. This is our good-by. I—oh, my dear, don't forget—never forget—Oh, go, GO!"
In that moment it seemed to her that her heart was bursting for him, that she loved him to the very roots of her soul. She was sure at last, very sure. She was certain she was not blinded by glamour, not fascinated by the man and his part in the world…. If there had been, in a secret recess of her heart, a shadow of uncertainty, it was gone in this moment.
"Good-by," she said.
He arose and walked toward the door. He did not look at her. His hand was on the knob, and the door was opening, yet he did not turn or look…. "Good-by…. Good-by," she sobbed—and he was GONE…
She was alone, and through all the rest of her years she must be alone. She had mounted the altar, a sacrifice, a willing sacrifice, but never till this minute had she experienced the full horror and bitterness and woe that were required of her…. She was ALONE.
The world has seen many minor passions in the Garden. It sees and passes on, embodying none of them in deathless epic as His passion was embodied…. Men and women have cried out to listening Heaven that the cup might pass from their lips, and it has not been permitted to pass, as His was not permitted to pass. In the souls of men and of women is something of the divine, something high and marvelous—a gift from Heaven to hold the human race above the mire which threatens to engulf it…. Every day it asserts itself somewhere; in sacrifice, in devotion, in simple courage, in lofty renunciation. It is common; wonderfully, beautifully common… yet there are men who do not see it, or, seeing, do not comprehend, and so despair of humanity…. Ruth, crouching on the floor of her little parlor, might have numbered countless brothers and sisters, had she known…. She was uplifting man, not because of the thing she might accomplish, but because she was willing to seek its accomplishment….