And then, as if hurrying to complete the old memory, Mary-Clare seemed to be following, following in the darkness.
Northrup’s lips closed grimly. He squared his shoulders to his task.
He must go on, keeping his mind fixed upon the brighter 283 hope that Mary-Clare could not, now, see; must not now see. For her, there must be the dark stretch; for him the glory of keeping the brightness undimmed––it must be a safe place for her to rest in, by and by. “She has kept the faith with life,” Northrup thought. “She will keep it with death––but love must keep faith with her.”
THE END