“You had a big thought when you brought me here, guinea-girl,” he added, presently. “We are going to win out here”—he set the child down—“you and I and this lucky sixpence.” He took up his short fur coat. “Yes, we’ll win, honey.” Then, with a brooding look in his face, he added:
| “‘The end comes as came the beginning, And shadows fail into the past; And the goal, is it not worth the winning, If it brings us but home at the last? While far through the pain of waste places We tread, ’tis a blossoming rod That drives us to grace from disgraces, From the fens to the gardens of God!’” |
He paused reflectively. “It’s strange that this life up here makes you feel that you must live a bigger life still, that this is only the wide porch to the great labor-house—it makes you want to do things. Well, we’ve got to win the stake first,” he added, with a laugh.
“The stake is a big one, Jim—bigger than you think.”
“You and her and me—me that was in the gutter.”
“What is the gutter, dadsie?” asked Nancy.
“The gutter—the gutter is where the dish-water goes, midget,” he answered, with a dry laugh.
“Oh, I don’t think you’d like to be in the gutter,” Nancy said, solemnly.
“You have to get used to it first, miss,” answered Jim. Suddenly Sally laid both hands on Jim’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “You must win the stake, Jim. Think—now!”
She laid a hand on the head of the child. He did not know that he was playing for a certain five millions, perhaps fifty millions, of dollars. She had never told him of his father’s offer. He was fighting only for salvation, for those he loved, for freedom. As they stood there, the conviction had come upon her that they had come to the last battle-field, that this journey which Jim now must take would decide all, would give them perfect peace or lifelong pain. The shadow of battle was over them, but he had no foreboding, no premonition; he had never been so full of spirits and life.