s arm with her hand.

"And I, too, I love you, with all my heart and soul," she said. "And if
you will tell me what has happened, I will do what I can--if it were my
life that were needed. I know I can help you, for God will help me."

He raised his head a little and again stood still, gazing into her eyes
with an odd sort of childish wonder.

"What makes you so strong, Vjera? You used to be a weak little thing."

"Love," she answered.

It was strange to see such a man, outwardly lean, tough-looking, well put
together and active, though not, indeed, powerful, looking at the poor
white-faced girl and asking the secret of her strength, as though he
envied it. But at that moment, the natural situation was reversed. His
eyes were lustreless, tired, without energy. Hers were suddenly bright and
flashing with determination, and with the expression of her new-found
will. Vjera felt that all at once a change had come over her, the weak
strings of her heart grew strong, the dreamy hopelessness of her thoughts
fell away, leaving one clearly defined resolution in its place. The man
she loved was going mad, and she would save him, cost what it might.

That Faith, no larger than the tiniest mustard seed, but able to toss the
mountains, as pebbles, from their foundations into the sea, is the
determination to do the thing chosen to be done or to die--literally, to
die--in the trying to do it. Death is farther from most of us than we
fancy, and if we would but risk all, to win or lose all, we could almost
always do the deed which looks so grimly impossible. Those who have faced
great physical dangers, or who have been matched by fate against
overwhelming odds of anxiety and trouble, alone know what great things are
done when men stand at bay and face the world, and fate, and life, and
death and misfortune, all banded together against them, and say in their
hearts, "We will win this fight or die." Then, at that word, when it is
spoken earnestly, in sincerity and truth, the iron will rises up and takes
possession of the feeble body, the doubting soul shakes off its hesitating
weakness, is drawn back upon itself like a strong bow bent double, is
compressed and full of a terrible latent power, like the handful of deadly
explosive which, buried in the bosom of the rock, will presently shake the
mighty cliff to its roots, as no thunderbolt could shake it.

Vjera had made up her mind that she would save the man she loved from the
destru