and,
gripping me by the arm, said piteously, "Oh, go to her! for Heaven's
sake, go to her!" I next remember standing in her path and seeing her
holding out her hands full of red lilies, crying out, "Are they not
lovely? Lewis is so fond of them!" With the promise of much finer ones I
turned her down a path toward the river, talking I know not what folly,
till her great eyes grew grave, then anxious, and my tongue stammered
and became silent. Then, laying her hand upon my arm, she said with
gentle sweetness, "Tell me your trouble, Mr. Craig," and I knew my agony
had come, and I burst out, "Oh, if it were only mine!" She turned quite
white, and with her deep eyes--you've noticed her eyes--drawing the
truth out of mine, she said, "Is it mine, Mr. Craig, and my baby's?"
I waited, thinking with what words to begin. She put one hand to her
heart, and with the other caught a little poplar-tree that shivered
under her grasp, and said with white lips, but even more gently, "Tell
me." I wondered at my voice being so steady as I said, "Mrs. Mavor, God
will help you and your baby. There has been an accident--and it is all
over."

'She was a miner's wife, and there was no need for more. I could see
the pattern of the sunlight falling through the trees upon the grass. I
could hear the murmur of the river, and the cry of the cat-bird in the
bushes, but we seemed to be in a strange and unreal world. Suddenly she
stretched out her hands to me, and with a little moan said, "Take me to
him."

'"Sit down for a moment or two," I entreated.

'"No, no! I am quite ready. See," she added quietly, "I am quite
strong."

'I set off by a short cut leading to her home, hoping the men would be
there before us; but, passing me, she walked swiftly through the trees,
and I followed in fear. As we came near the main path I heard the sound
of feet, and I tried to stop her, but she, too, had heard and knew. "Oh,
let me go!" she said piteously; "you need not fear." And I had not
the heart to stop her. In a little opening among the pines we met the
bearers. When the men saw her, they laid their burden gently down upon
the carpet of yellow pine-needles, and then, for they had the hearts of
true men in them, they went away into the bushes and left her alone
with her dead. She went swiftly to his side, making no cry, but kneeling
beside him she stroked his face and hands, and touched his curls with
her fingers, murmuring all the time soft words of love. "