Part 27

“You don’t care for him?” he asked quickly.

“Oh no,” said Rosamund.

“Then may I try to make you care for me?”

“Ludovic, I’ll try and explain,” said Rosamund, speaking with difficulty, and using his name for the first time. “It has seemed to me that there is only one way for anyone to learn anything--and that is through caring. Francie’s love for God, whether one thinks it a mistaken sort or not, made her give up everything and go to the convent--as you know. And it nearly broke my heart, because it took her away from me, and I wanted her to be happy in my way and with me. When I went to see her after she’d actually entered I knew that in some way she’d grown up, while I hadn’t--I was still muddling about in chaos, while she’d found a definite anchor. I couldn’t understand, and I felt further away from her than ever before. Then, when I went to the convent when she was ill, and they wouldn’t let me go to her, I understood all she’d given up. You see, for _Francie_ to do or say anything that would hurt _me_ was the greatest sacrifice that she could ever have offered. When I was in the chapel then, I prayed that she might die....

“It was all such pain and despair as I can’t describe--but afterwards, very slowly, I think I’ve understood a little. There is only one thing which counts, and that’s loving--and loving is giving.

“Frances gave one way--her way--and taught me a very little of what it meant.

“But my way is not the same as hers.”

“You are giving the things of the spirit,” said Ludovic.

“I don’t know,” said Rosamund with a sort of sob. “But it’s the only way of feeling that Francie and I are not so very far apart after all.”

From the garden below came the voices of Hazel’s children, Dickie calling in a shrill, sweet treble.

Rosamund gave a sudden smile, and then it died from her eyes in a rush of overwhelming loneliness.

Ludovic’s need was urgent, and he took his advantage.

“Rosamund,” he said entreatingly.

Her gaze did not leave the far line of the horizon, but very slowly, without turning her head, she gave him her hand.

EXETER, _June, 1916_. LONDON, _June, 1917_.

THE END

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.