t, Vanna dear, one needs to be well to be able
even to love. That sounds strange, but it's true; there's no feeling
left. Often and often I've longed all day for Robert to come home, and
after he has been in the room for five minutes, I've longed for him to
go away again. I've been too tired! Of course every woman does not
suffer as I have done; but then how many have a husband like Robert? I
tell him sometimes that my bad health is the price I've had to pay for
having a saint for my husband. If I'd kept well, it would have been too
perfect. One does not get everything... And the children--little pets!
they love me now; I am a sort of god to them; all that I do is right;
but sometimes as I hold them a pang goes through my heart; such a pang!
_I know it won't last_! I shall go on loving them more and more,
_needing_ them more; but they will grow past me. They will make their
own lives, their own friends, and I shall retreat farther and farther
into the background. They will love me still; I shall be the `dear old
mater; but they won't need me any more.' I won't really touch their
lives. I remember how father loved me, and how I left him without a
pang! Is it _possible_ that he felt as I should do, if Lorna or
Joyce... The young are cruel to the old--"

Thus Jean, with many tender, loving words; but Vanna noted with a pang
that she never once expressed the belief which alone could have brought
comfort--the belief that Piers would speedily return home, and remain
faithful until death.

The last day came--a blur of pain and grief. Piers spent his last hour
alone with Vanna in the den, in which the first happy hours of their
engagement had been passed, demanding of her a dozen impossible
promises--that she would stay with Jean until his return, that she would
not tire herself, that she would be happy; and if at times a bitter
reply trembled on her lips, she repressed it valiantly, knowing that by
so doing she was saving herself an added sting. His last words
imprinted themselves in her brain, and were sweet to remember:

"... If I am ever any good in this world or the next, it is your doing.
You have given me faith, you have given me joy, the revelation of
heaven and earth. Everything that I have, that is worth possessing, is
your gift...!"

When the door closed behind him--oh, the knell of that closing door!--
Jean left her friend alone until an hour had passed, and then sent her
children as missioner