again for a moment. Still there seemed
nothing now for him to do, nothing but that constant watching and
constant praying; and he had only lately come to realize how much these
two things meant. Presently, sitting there in the silence, he bethought
himself of Winny in her desolation.

"Pliny," he said, suddenly, "shall not you and I go down and try to help
poor Winny endure her loneliness? Do you know she is utterly alone?
Rick's wife is in her room with the child, and Rick and Jim just went
down the walk together."

Pliny seemed nothing loth, and the two descended to the dear little
parlor where so many happy hours had been passed. Winny had turned down
the gas to its lowest ebb, and was curled into a corner of the sofa,
giving up to the form of grief in which she most indulged--utter, white
silence. She sat erect as the two young men entered, and Theodore turned
on the gas; Pliny took the other corner of the sofa, and Theodore the
chair opposite them. He looked from one to the other of the white worn
faces. What utter misery was expressed on both! A great longing came
over him to comfort them. But what comfort could he offer for such
troubles as theirs, save the one thing that both rejected? He gave voice
to his thoughts almost without intending it, with no other feeling than
that his great pity and desire for them were beyond his control.

"How much, _how very much_, you two people need the same help! What
utter nothingness any other aid is. I have not the heart to offer either
of you the mockery of human sympathy," he spoke in gentle, sad tones,
and straight way was startled with himself for speaking at all. Winny
turned her great gray solemn eyes on her companion in the other corner.

"Do _you_ feel the need of help?" she asked, gravely. "Heaven knows I
_do_ feel the need of something I don't possess. I am utterly
shipwrecked. I don't know which way to turn. I do, if I only would turn
that way. Mother had help all her life long--help that you and I know
nothing about. Do you doubt that?"

"No, I _don't_," answered Pliny, solemnly.

"Then why can't we have it if we both need it, and can get it for the
asking? Mother prayed for you as well as for me. The very last night of
her life I heard her. I know what she prayed for is so. I'm tired of
struggling. I've been at it, Theodore knows, for a great many years. If
mother were here to-night I would say to her: 'Mother, I'm not going to
struggle any more; I'm going