THE TWILIGHT GUESTS
in his dim memory. But there sat in the shadow a man.
Threads of grey were in his hair and lines around his firm mouth. But in his eyes shone yet a sweet strength, and he held his head high as he spoke.
"Do you know where I have been?" he said.
The old man shook his head.
"Think!" said the other.
Then while he looked into the stranger's eyes, there stole across his heart the wind that blows through the orchard when the fruit is ripe. He drew in great breaths of it, in doubt, and at last he said in a whisper so low that he hardly heard himself, "You have been to his grave—his little grave!"
"Yes," said the man, "I have. His mother goes there alone—not even I go with her. She goes alone."
"No," said the old man solemnly, "no. God goes with her. I thought that she would have died—why did she live?"
"Because," said the other, "because you would
230
