So it came to be that it was not Grace
Conner alone, that kept Miss Farwell in Corinth, but the feeling that Dan
Matthews, also, depended upon her--the feeling that she could not desert
her comrade in the fight, or--as they had both come to feel--their fight.
Hope Farwell was not a schoolgirl. She was a strong full-blooded,
perfectly developed, workwoman, matured in body and mind. She realized
what the continued friendship of this man might mean to her--realized
it fully and was glad. Dimly, too, she saw how this that was growing
in her heart might bring great pain and suffering--life-long suffering,
perhaps. For--save this--their present, common fight, the life of the
nurse and the life of the churchman held nothing in common. His deepest
convictions had led him into a ministry that was, to her, the sheerest
folly.
Hope Farwell's profession had trained her to almost perfect self-control.
There was no danger that she would let herself go. Her strong, passionate
heart would never be given its freedom by her, to the wrecking of the
life upon which it fixed its affections. She would suffer the more deeply
for that very reason. There is no pain so poignant as that which is borne
in secret. But still--still she was glad! Such a strange thing is a
woman's heart!
And Dan! Dan was not given to self-analysis; few really strong men are.
He felt: he did not reason. Neither did he look ahead to see whither he
was bound. Such a strange thing is the heart of a man!
CHAPTER XXVII.
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