have grown such a beautiful forest on this land which won't grow anything else—You've gone ahead and paid no attention to their jeers: you had the dream and a wealth of hope—They say yet—you can never pay out—But I don't believe them—They are so ignorant. I hope it all comes right for Foraker's Folly—I hope they see the wisdom in it.
"Oh, this graveyard! this graveyard of hopes! a cottage—and peace—and enough—It wasn't wealth we wanted—only peace—peace—"
For an interval the others waited, watching the rise and fall of her chest. "Peace," she whispered again and her lips formed other soundless words and then were still. "Asleep," whispered Helen and Thad nodded, brushing his eyes.
Carefully she laid the hand she held back on the covers, rose and stepped from the room. Parker remained there, taking the chair Helen had left, bending over his wife, hands clasped on his knees so tightly that the knuckle bones seemed to threaten the skin.
In the kitchen Taylor rose when Helen tiptoed across the bare floor. She motioned him back to his seat and took a rocker which was near the stove, where the firelight playing through the cracks fell upon her face. Her lips were still set, brows drawn, but with the sympathy and pain in her eyes was something else, a light, a determination which John Taylor had never before beheld in the face of a woman. It was something tremendous, something beyond his experience; he was not equipped to analyze it, though three hours before he had thought he knew women—Now he could only sense the power of this girl!
