Not enjoyment and not sorrow
Is our destined end or way;
But to act that each to-morrow
Finds us further than to-day
In the world’s broad field of battle
In the bivouac of life
Be not like dumb driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife.
Longfellow.
As Fern finished her little speech, Crystal hid her face in her hands, but there was no answer—only the sound of a deep-drawn sob was distinctly audible. A few minutes afterward she raised it, and in the moonlight Fern could see it was streaming with tears.