rls back in the homeland--do it, then we who don't come back will
know that you have not 'broken faith' with us.

"I meant to write to Una tonight, too, but I won't have time now. Read
this letter to her and tell her it's really meant for you both--you two
dear, fine loyal girls. Tomorrow, when we go over the top--I'll think
of you both--of your laughter, Rilla-my-Rilla, and the steadfastness in
Una's blue eyes--somehow I see those eyes very plainly tonight, too.
Yes, you'll both keep faith--I'm sure of that--you and Una. And
so--goodnight. We go over the top at dawn."

Rilla read her letter over many times. There was a new light on her
pale young face when she finally stood up, amid the asters Walter had
loved, with the sunshine of autumn around her. For the moment at least,
she was lifted above pain and loneliness.

"I will keep faith, Walter," she said steadily. "I will work--and
teach--and learn--and laugh, yes, I will even laugh--through all my
years, because of you and because of what you gave when you followed
the call."

Rilla meant to keep Walter's letter as a a sacred treasure. But, seeing
the look on Una Meredith's face when Una had read it and held it back
to her, she thought of something. Could she do it? Oh, no, she could
not give up Walter's letter--his last letter. Surely it was not
selfishness to keep it. A copy would be such a soulless thing. But
Una--Una had so little--and her eyes were the eyes of a woman stricken
to the heart, who yet must not cry out or ask for sympathy.

"Una, would you like to have this letter--to keep?" she asked slowly.

"Yes--if you can give it to me," Una said dully.

"Then--you may have it," said Rilla hurriedly.

"Thank you," said Una. It was all she said, but there was something in
her voice which repaid Rilla for her bit of sacrifice.

Una took the letter and when Rilla had gone she pressed it against her
lonely lips. Una knew that love would never come into her life now--it
was buried for ever under the blood-stained soil "Somewhere in France."
No one but herself--and perhaps Rilla--knew it--would ever know it. She
had no right in the eyes of her world to grieve. She must hide and bear
her long pain as best she could--alone. But she, too, would keep faith.

CHAPTER XXIV

MARY IS JUST IN TIME

The autumn of 1916 was a bitter season for Ingleside. Mrs. Blythe's
return to health was slow, and sorrow and loneliness were in all
hearts. Every one tried to hid