e towards the end.

". . . And when love comes to you, never forget that it is the biggest
thing in the world, the one altogether good and perfect gift. Don't let
any twopenny-halfpenny considerations of worldly advantage influence
you, or the tittle-tattle of other folks, and even if it seems that
something unsurmountable lies between you and the fulfillment of love,
go over it, or round it, or through it! If it's real love, your faith
must be big enough to remove the mountains in the way--or to go over
them."

Had Patrick foreseen the exact circumstances in which his "little old
pal" would one day find herself, he could not have written anything more
strangely applicable.

Sara sat still, every nerve of her taut and strung. She felt as though
she had laid bare the whole of her trouble, revealed her inmost soul in
all its anguished perplexity, to those shrewd blue eyes which had been
wont to see so clearly through externals, piercing infallibly to the
very heart of things.

Patrick had always possessed that supreme gift of being able to separate
the grain from the chaff--to distinguish unerringly between essentials
and non-essentials, and now, in the quiet, wise counsel of an old
letter, Sara found an answer to all the questionings that had made so
bitter a thing of life.

It was almost as if some one had torn down a curtain from before her
eyes, rent asunder a veil which had been distorting and obscuring the
values of things.

Mountains! There were mountains indeed betwixt her and Garth--and there
was no way round them or through them! But now--now she would go over
them--go straight ahead, unregarding of the mountains between, to where
Garth and love awaited her.

No man is all angel--or all devil. Supposing Garth _had_ been guilty of
cowardice, had had his one moment of weakness? She no longer cared! He
was hers, her lover, alike in his weakness and in his strength. She had
known men in France shrink in terror at the evil droning of a shell, and
then die selflessly that others might live.

"Your faith must be big enough to remove the mountains in the way--or to
go over them," Patrick had written.

And Sara, hiding her face in her hands, thanked God that now, at last,
her faith was big enough, and that love--"the one altogether good and
perfect gift"--was still hers if she would only go over the mountains.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE

"GARTH TRENT, COWARD."

The words, in staring white c