Smilingly, her father answered, "I think I shall not live much longer, and I feel as if your mother were looking down upon us from that sky." But before long her father had grown pale again and all the glow in the sky had faded. When he rose, Dora had to follow, quite depressed that the beautiful glow had paled so soon. But her father spoke these words of comfort, "It will glow again some day and much more splendidly than today, when your mother, you and I will be all together again. It won't ever fade then."
When the pair came up the stairs to greet Dora's uncle and aunt, the latter stood upstairs at the open door showing visible signs of agitation, and as her visitors entered her living room, she gave free vent to her excitement.
"How can you frighten me so, dear brother!" she wailed. "Oh, I imagined such terrible things! What can have kept you so long? How can you be so forgetful, and not remember that you must not be out after sunset. Just think what dreadful things might happen if you caught cold."
"Calm yourself, dear Ninette," said the Major as soon as he had a chance to speak. "The air is so mild and warm today that it could do me no harm and the evening was simply glorious. Please let me enjoy the few lovely evenings that are still left to me on earth. They neither hasten nor hinder what is sure to happen very soon."
These words spoken so quietly brought forth new outbursts of despair.
"How can you speak that way? How can you frighten me so? Why do you say such awful things?" cried the excited woman. "It cannot happen and it must not happen! What is to be done then with—yes, tell me—you know whom I mean." Here the aunt threw an expressive glance at Dora. "No, Charles, a terrible misfortune like that must not break in upon us—no, it would be too much. I would not even know what to do. What is to happen then, for we shall never get along."
"But, my dear Ninette," the brother retorted, "don't forget these words:"
"'Though sad afflictions prove us
And none his fate can tell,
Yet God keeps watch above us
And doeth all things well.'"
"Oh, yes, I know, and I know it is true," agreed the sister. "But where one sees no help anywhere, one feels like dying from fright, while you talk of such dreadful things as if they were quite natural."
"We'll have to say good-night now, and please try not to complain any more, dear Ninette," said the Major, stretching out his hand. "We must remember the lines:"