border of the grave I will open my
heart. You shall see all; and then you will understand, and deliver a
message which I must leave in your hands. Give my grateful remembrance
to Miss Gordon. Make her happy; and ask her to pray for me, that I may
be patient. Now leave me, for I can bear no more."

She put aside his hand, and hid her face once more. He stooped, laid
his lips on the shining hair, and walked away. At the door he paused.
The long corridor was very dim and gloomy, and the deep-toned bell in
the tower was ringing slowly. Looking back into the cell, he saw that
Beryl had risen, and against the sullen red glow on the western window,
her face and figure outlined a silhouette of hopeless desolation.

CHAPTER XXIV

Each human soul is dowered with an inherent adaptability to its
environment, with an innate energy which properly directed, grapples
successfully with all assailing ills; and Time, the tireless
reconciler, flies always low at our side, hardening the fibre of
endurance, stealthily administering that supreme and infallible
anaesthetic whereby the torturing throes of human woe are surely
stilled. Existence involves strife; mental and moral growth depend upon
the vigor with which it is waged, and scorning cowardice, Nature
provides the weapons essential to victory. The evils that afflict
humanity are meted out with a marvellously accurate reference to the
idiosyncrasies of character; and no weight is imposed which cannot by
heroic effort be sustained. The Socratic belief that if all misfortunes
were laid in a heap, whence every man and woman must draw an equal
portion, each would select the burden temporarily laid down and walk
away comforted, was merely an adumbration of the sublimer truth, "As
thy day, so shall thy strength be."

Very slowly physical health and spiritual patience came back to Beryl;
but by degrees she bravely lifted the stained and mutilated wreck of
life, and staggered on her lonely way, finding that repose which means
the death of hope.

At one time death had smilingly pushed ajar the door that opened into
eternal peace, and beckoned her bruised soul to follow; then mockingly
barred escape, and left her to renew the battle. From that double
window in the second story of the prison, she watched the silver of
full moons shining on the spectral white columns that crowned "Elm
Bluff", the fire of setting suns that blazed ruby-red as Gubbio wine,
along the line of casements tha