"Yes, but oh, my dear husband—you must let me weep for one moment—to know that we may never meet again, that you may be going to death—even torture!" She lifted her lovely, agonized eyes to his.
"It is very, very hard to bear, my dearest; the only thing that makes it possible is the love of Christ; but, Christine," he said, hopefully, "I believe we shall meet again in this world; if not, my darling wife, you will know that I shall be with Christ, and be the first to welcome you to the City of the King. All the paths lead there in the end, do they not?"
"Yes, yes, my beloved husband, we shall meet again in glory, even if we may not here. Good-bye, good-bye! Cicely and Rachel, come with me, darlings."
Rachel had been wondering what it was all about; why her mother was crying, and why they were saying good-bye; but she prepared to follow Mrs. St. John, to whom she was very devoted. Cicely still clung to her father.
"Let me stay with you, father, father darling." The little white face raised to his, the gray eyes, so like his wife's, all touched him infinitely; but he loosened her arms gently from about his neck.
"My sweet child, it could not be: you must let me judge, darling. I should love to have you, but it is quite impossible."
"Oh father, do—do let me stay."
"Cicely," said her father, tenderly, "I know you do not wish to unnerve me. I am sure you do not wish to make it harder for me, and, my dear little girl, it would increase my pain and anxiety in a ten-fold degree if I knew you were not in safety. Be my own sweet, brave child. Kiss me and then run up to your mother. I know you will do all you can for her."
"Yes, yes; good-bye, good-bye, father darling."
"Good-bye, my own dear child, my precious Cicely. Please God, we shall meet very soon again."