“But it’s true. And I shall be out of his way. I can’t endure a life like this. I shall die. I hope, for his sake, that I shall die soon. Then he will be free to marry one who will understand him, and sympathize with him, and be a companion to him as well as a wife.”
“Mrs. Farrar! You are beside yourself. You have brooded too much over your troubles. You have been left too much alone. You must come oftener to see me, and I will come oftener to the rectory.”
“Yes. That will please Mr. Farrar. He depends so much upon you. You are his mainstay. He could not have done his work without you. I doubt if he could have lived through all this without you, Miss Tracy.”
This echo of the rector’s words fell upon the girl’s brain like hammer blows on an anvil. She felt herself growing weak, unsteady, at a loss how to reply. With a great effort she pulled herself together, and at last she said, unconscious echo of her own words spoken to the rector:
“I am glad to have been of service to Mr. Farrar.” Then, gathering still greater self-control, she added: “But now I want to do even more for you, because I feel that yours is the greater need.”
And the woman replied:
“The greatest service you can do for me is to be good to my children after I am gone.”
“But, Mrs. Farrar, you are not going to die. It—it’s absurd!”
“Oh, yes. I am going to die. I’ve thought it all out. I’m going to die, and you are going to marry Mr. Farrar.”