“It was in the twilight. You said that it seemed to you as if Hermes were taking the child away, partly because of us.”
Her voice broke.
“I—I disliked your saying that. I told you I couldn’t feel that.”
“I remember.”
“And then you explained exactly what you meant. And we spoke of the human fear that comes to those who look at a child they love and think, ‘what is life going to do to the child?’ This evening I want to tell you that in a strange way I am able to be glad that Robin has gone, glad with some part of me that is more mother than anything else in me, I think. Robin is—is so safe now.”
The tears came thickly and fell upon her face. She put out a hand to Dion. He clasped it closely.
“God took him away, and perhaps because of us. I think it may have been to teach us, you and me. Perhaps we needed a great sorrow. Perhaps nothing else could have taught us something we had to learn.”
“It may be so,” he almost whispered.
She got up and leaned against his shoulder.
“Whatever happens to me in the future,” she said, “I don’t think I shall ever distrust God again.”