had been Anthony's, and though she wept over it, her
tears were perhaps those of envy rather than of sorrow, for she was sure
that it had found Anthony.

More and more Barbara threw out her soul towards Anthony. Across the
void of Nothingness she sent it travelling, nor did it return with
empty hands. Something of Anthony had greeted it, though she could
not remember the greeting, had spoken with it, though she could not
interpret the words. Of this at least she was sure, she had been near to
Anthony.

Once she seemed to see him. In the infinite, infinite distance, millions
of miles away, the sky opened as it were. There in the opening was
Anthony talking with one whom she knew for their daughter, the baby that
had died, talking of her. In a minute they were gone, but she had seen
them, she was sure that she had seen them, and the knowledge warmed her
heart.

So there was no error, the Bible was true, more or less; Faith was not
built on running water or on sand. Life was not a mere hellish mockery,
where tiaras turned to crowns of thorn and joy was but an inch rule by
which to measure the alps of human pain. Life was a door, a gateway.
The door dreadful, the gate perilous, if you will, but beyond it lay no
dream, no empty blackness. Beyond it stretched the Promised Land peopled
with the lost who soon would be the found.

Barbara's last illness was rapid. When she began to go she went swiftly.

"Can't you save her?" asked her son of one of the doctors.

"The disease has gone too far," he answered. "Moreover, it is impossible
to save one who seeks to die."

"Why does she seek to die?" blurted Anthony, glaring at him.

"Perhaps, young gentleman, you are in a better position to answer that
question than I am," replied the doctor, who knew of Anthony's cruel
conduct to his mother and had reproached him with it, not once but on
several occasions.

"You mean that I have killed her," said Anthony savagely.

"No," replied the doctor, "she is dying of tuberculosis of the lungs.
What were the primary causes which induced that disease I cannot be
sure. All I said was that she appears to welcome it, or rather its
issue. And I will add this on my own account, that when she does die the
world will lose one of the sweetest women that ever walked upon it. Good
morning."

"I know what he means," said Anthony to himself, as he watched the
retreating form. "He means that I have murdered her, and perhaps I
have. She i