Book the Third - The Track of a Storm
15. XV. The Footsteps Die Out For Ever
(continued)
"I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I
love very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in
a farmer's house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she
knows nothing of my fate--for I cannot write--and if I could, how
should I tell her! It is better as it is."
"Yes, yes: better as it is."
"What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still
thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so
much support, is this:--If the Republic really does good to the poor,
and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she
may live a long time: she may even live to be old."
"What then, my gentle sister?"
"Do you think:" the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much
endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and
tremble: "that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the
better land where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?"
"It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble
there."
"You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now?
Is the moment come?"
"Yes."
She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other.
The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than
a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next
before him--is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two.
"I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord:
he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."
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