, putting her arms about him, supported his
head on her shoulder, and held it there with her hand. At least that
once her love demanded of her that she should draw near. _She_ should
not die; perhaps there was a long life before her; perhaps this might be
the only moment she might have to look back to, when she had consoled
and satisfied her unheeded heart.

"Have you so soon forgotten hope?" she said as she withdrew her arms.

"I thought I had."

"They always say she is not worse; not to be worse is to be better."

"They never say that, and I shall not forgive myself."

"No?" she exclaimed, and sighed. There was, indeed, so little hope, and
if the child died, what might not be feared for the father? "That is
because, though you seem a reverent and sincere Christian, you do not
believe with enough reality that the coming life is so much sweeter,
happier, better, than this. Few of us can. If you did, this tragedy
could not fold itself down so darkly over your head. You could not bring
yourself almost to the point of dying of pity and self-blame, because
your child is perhaps to taste immortal happiness the sooner for your
deplored mistake. Oh! men and women are different."

"You do not think you could have outlived a misfortune so irreparable?"

"I do think so. And yet this is sad; sometimes I cannot bear to think of
it. Often I can find in my heart to wish that I might have handed that
glass in your stead. Even if it had broken my heart, I stand alone; no
other lives depend on me for well-being, and perhaps for well-doing.
Cannot you think of this, dear John, and try to bear it and overlive it
for their sakes? Look, day begins to dawn, and the morning star
flickers. Come in; cannot you rise?"

"I suppose not; I have tried. You will not go?"

"Yes; I may be wanted."

"You have no resentments, Emily?"

"Oh no," she answered, understanding him.

"Then give me one kiss."

"Yes." She stooped again toward him and gave it. "You are going to live,
John, and serve and love God, and even thank Him in the end, whatever
happens."

"You are helping me to live," he answered.

It seemed impossible to him to say a single word more, and she went back
towards the house again, moving more quickly as she drew near, because
the sound of wheels was audible. As for him, he watched in the solemn
dawn her retiring figure with unutterable regret. His other despair, who
had talked to him of hope and consoled him with a simple di