"I can hardly bear it," she said, almost in a whisper. "You don't know what she is to me, how I've loved her and loved her and loved her. And yet I've accepted her as a matter of course, a thing that couldn't be taken from me, like the world itself. How could I think she might be like--like those others? Oh, I never dreamed I could lose my dearest--my dearest!" He waited a moment, and at last said gently, "You won't lose your dearest--we won't lose her." "Oh, but she's going, before our eyes." "Listen to me, listen now! She's going to get well. She'll be strong again--I know it. I say she can't die; but you must be sure of it--as sure as I am--do you hear?--as sure as I am." "Yes, yes--I will be sure." She tried to look at him through her tear-wet lashes. He smiled at her confidently. "If we're both sure, we can have your sister crying in a month because Ben won't let her work in the garden." "Oh, if you only--" She broke off to look at him in wondering gratitude. "And I'll go in and tell her so now," he added, rising. "Yes, yes, make her feel sure, too," she implored. She turned quickly to the car window, where twilight was blurring the fields to a far, dreamy horizon, level and vast. He stood a moment, tracing with mental point the line of her profile under the boyish cap pinned to her yellow hair. Mrs. Laithe lay on a narrow sofa in the stateroom. She had moved from that only to the berth at night since their start, and had betrayed a preference for being alone in the little compartment. Ewing had felt, however, that she liked to talk with him as evening drew on. She had sent for him at this hour the day before and they had sat together in the dusk. He was reassured by the cheerfulness of her tone as she greeted him now. "We're flying so fast," she said joyously. "To make you well the sooner. I've just been telling Virginia what we'll do for you even in a month. You'll be riding and climbing, and you'll cry because you can't fell trees or rive out shakes, or something." "I'm not worrying about that. It will come right very soon." "We'll make it come right. No one ever dies a natural death there, you know. I was just reading your sister a letter from Ben. Lee Jennings killed breaking a horse, Elmer Watts shot by Chester Lynch. Of course, in a way, that was a natural death for Elmer. He was bound to go that way sooner or later, but you're not going to ride a bucker, and you're not a gunfighter. Oh, you'll thrive, with a little stall feeding." "And there's so much room out there." She smiled. "So much room to--to live. And life is so full. I like to hear it, through Virgie and through you. You are shells that give me the roar of it."