tell you all this, but now, if you
want to be a true friend, just go away and forget me. You don't want to
have anything to do with me. Wait! I'll tell you something more. I'm
called Berna Wilovich. That's my grandfather's name. My mother ran away
from home. Two years later she came back--with me. Soon after she died
of consumption. She would never tell my father's name, but said he was a
Christian, and of good family. My grandfather tried to find out. He
would have killed the man. So, you see, I am nameless, a child of shame
and sorrow. And you are a gentleman, and proud of your family. Now, see
the kind of friend you've made. You don't want to make friends with such
as I."

"I want to make friends with such as need my friendship. What is going
to happen to you, Berna?"

"Happen! God knows! It doesn't matter. Oh, I've always been in trouble.
I'm used to it. I never had a really happy day in my life. I never
expect to. I'll just go on to the end, enduring patiently, and getting
what comfort I can out of things. It's what I was made for, I suppose."

She shrugged her shoulders and shivered a little.

"Let me go now, my friend. It's cold up here; I'm chilled. Don't look so
terribly downcast. I expect I'll come out all right. Something may
happen. Cheer up! Maybe you'll see me a Klondike queen yet."

I could see that her sudden brightness but hid a black abyss of
bitterness and apprehension. What she had told me had somehow stricken
me dumb. There seemed a stark sordidness in the situation that repelled
me. She had arisen and was about to step over the fluke of the great
anchor, when I aroused myself.

"Berna," I said, "what you have told me wrings my heart. I can't tell
you how terribly sorry I feel. Is there nothing I can do for you,
nothing to show I am not a mere friend of words and phrases? Oh, I hate
to let you go like this."

The moon had gone behind a cloud. We were in a great shadow. She halted,
so that, as we stood, we were touching each other. Her voice was full of
pathetic resignation.

"What can you do? If we were going in together it might be different.
When I met you at first I hoped, oh, I hoped--well, it doesn't matter
what I hoped. But, believe me, I'll be all right. You won't forget me,
will you?"

"Forget you! No, Berna, I'll never forget you. It cuts me to the heart I
can do nothing now, but we'll meet up there. We can't be divided for
long. And you'll be all right, believe me too, little gi