forest; only sadness and fear and
despair. Sitting in the snow, his head and shoulders in her arms, she
knew a fear and a loneliness undreamed of before, a loss that could
never be atoned for or redeemed.

She too knew the lesson that Bill had learned in his hour of
bitterness,--that one moment of heaven may atone for a whole life of
struggle and sorrow. One clasp of arms, one whispered message, one
mighty impulse of the soul in which eternity is seized and the stars
are gathered might glorify the whole bitter struggle of existence.
One little kiss might pay for it all. Yet for all that Harold still
lived and waited for her in the cabin, she felt that this one little
instant of resurrection was irrevocably lost.

It seemed so strange to her that he should be lying here, impotent
in her arms. Always he had been so strong, he had stood so
straight,--always coming to her aid in a second of need, always
strengthening her with his smile and his eyes. She could hardly believe
that this was he,--never to cheer her again in their hard tramps, to
lend her his mighty strength in a moment of crisis, to laugh with her at
some little tragedy. She sobbed softly, and her tears lay on his face.
"Bill, oh, Bill, won't you wake up and speak to me?" she cried. She
pleaded softly, but he didn't seem to hear.

"Come back to me, Bill--I need you," she told him. He had always been
so quick to come when she needed him before now. "Are you _dead?_-- Oh,
you couldn't be _dead!_ It's so cold--and I'm afraid. Oh, please
open your eyes----"

She kissed him over and over--on the lips, on his closed eyes. She
pressed his head against her soft breast, as if her fluttering heart
would give some of its life to him.

_Dead?_ Was that it? All at once she set to work to win back her
self-control. It might not yet be too late to help. She gripped
herself, dispelling at once all hysteria, all her vagrant thoughts.
He would have been hard at work long since. His face was still
warm--perhaps life had not yet passed.

She put her head to his breast. His heart was beating--slowly, but
steadily and strong.

XXVI

Bill had not been lying long inert in the snow. Otherwise Virginia
would not have heard his heart thumping so steadily in his breast. In
fact, she was almost on the top of the ridge when he had given up. He
had just drifted off to sleep when she reached his side.

And now he thought he was in the midst of some wonder