When at last she rose to leave him he said slowly, "I cannot understand it yet—I must have time—but it comforts me to know that while so much is lost, you are still here, and you are still the same."
She fought back the tears that were blinding her. "I am always the same—remember that—and I am here when you want me. Good-night, dear Francis."
"Good-night, dear friend."
CHAPTER XXIII
CONTENT
"The dead are glad in heaven, the living 'tis who weep."—K. Y. HINKSON.
Philippa followed Isabella down-stairs like one walking in her sleep, without feeling, without consciousness, save of a dreadful numbness which seemed to envelop her, body and heart alike.
She walked to the door and opened it, and then she became aware that her companion was speaking. The words came as if from a great distance through a mighty void.
"He will need you," Isabella was saying through her tears. "Go back to him. He must not feel he is alone. See if your love can help him——" Then her sobs choked her, and she walked quickly away into the gathering darkness.