it was a hopeless case, and that she--Violet--was as
good as dead. After that--after that----"

Nick waited. "After that?" he said.

She turned to him, her face anguished, piteous, appealing. "I can't get
any further than that, Nick. It's just a dreadful darkness that makes me
afraid. I think I begged him not to go to her. But I know he went,
because--when he came down again"--her voice faltered; bewilderment
showed through her distress--"when he came down again--" she repeated
the words like a child conning a lesson, then stopped, staring widely.
"Ah, I don't remember," she cried hopelessly. "I don't remember--except
that I think--when he came down again--it was all over. And he seemed to
be angry with me. Why was he angry with me, Nick? Why? Why?"

She began to tremble violently; but Nick's arm, strong and steadfast,
drew her on.

"He wasn't angry," said Nick. "Up to that point you are all right, but
there your imagination runs away with you. It's not surprising. He looks
grim enough when he's on the job. But that's his way. We know too much
of him, you and I, to take him over seriously."

"Then he really wasn't angry?" Olga said, relief struggling with doubt
in her voice.

Nick began to smile. "He really wasn't," he said.

She gave a sharp sigh. "I've been so afraid sometimes. But why--why did
he look so strange?"

"Doctors don't like being beaten," said Nick.

"But then, he knew it was hopeless--he said so. Was he angry because of
his arm? Was he angry with her, do you think? Oh, Nick, my brain--my
brain! It does whirl so! It won't let me think quietly."

"There is no need to make it think any more," said Nick, with quick
decision. "Give it a rest! You've got hold of the main points, and
that's enough for anyone. You mustn't fret either, dear. Remember, we
are all going the same way. God knows why we take these things so hard.
I suppose it's our silly little minds that won't let us look ahead."

"If we only could look ahead!" murmured Olga. "If we could only know!"

Nick's eyes sent a single flashing glance over the cypresses. His arm
clasped her closely and very tenderly. "That's just where the trick of
believing comes in," he said. "I don't see how those who honestly
believe in the love of God can help believing that all is well with
those who have gone on. To my mind it follows as the inevitable
sequence. Those who doubt it are putting a limit to the Illimitable and
placing a lower estimate on the