"Do you care?"
She turned quickly. "No," she said.
"Do you realize that Chuck is gone? That you'll never see him any more?"
"Yes." She passed her hands slowly over her eyes. "But that all seems so vague and far away."
"Vague and far away," he repeated; and then: "And are you afraid of me now?"
"Not any longer," she said, and she added frankly, "now that you're going away."
He moved toward the door. He seemed particularly weary to-night, as though he could hardly move about at all.
"The household here is in your keeping," he said in a tired whisper. "If there is any light and warmth in it, it will be your light and warmth; if it is happy, it will be because you've made it so. Happy things may come to you in life, but you must never go seeking them any more. It is your turn to make the fire."
"Won't you sit down a moment longer?" Luella ventured.
"There isn't time." His voice was so low now that she could scarcely hear the words. "But remember that whatever suffering comes to you, I can always help you—if it is something that can be helped. I promise nothing."