Her white, still face with its stricken look, went to his heart. He knew how strangely nervous she was on wild, windy nights. He knew it would be hard for her to let him go, but she had shown herself his brave, true Monica, as he knew she would do, and now the kindest thing he could do was to shorten the parting, and return to her as quickly as his errand would allow him.
He held her a moment in his strong arms.
“Good-bye, my Monica, my own sweet wife. Keep up a brave heart. Kiss me once and let me go. Whatever happens, we are in God’s hands. Remember that always.”
She lifted her pale face, there was something strangely pathetic in its haunting beauty.
“Let me see you smile before I go. Tell me again that you bid me do my duty.”
Suddenly the old serenity and peace came back to the upturned face. The smile he asked for shone in her sweet eyes.
“Good-bye, my Randolph—my husband—good-bye. Yes, I do bid you do your duty. May God bless and keep you always.”
For a moment they stood together, heart pressed to heart, their lips meeting in one long, lingering kiss; for one moment a strange shadow as of farewell seemed to hang upon them, and they clung together as if no power on earth could separate them.
The next moment he was gone, and Monica, left alone, stretched out her hands in the darkness.