God was good.

Surely her husband must kneel there again: a son on each side as he had said; George just here, Jim just there.

By long watching the spot as she worshipped it became as if she saw the three returned ones there kneeling; the two slim outlines of her boys, the more bulky form between them; their hands clasped, their heads shaped against the eastern wall.
The fancy grew almost to an hallucination: she could never turn her worn eyes to the step without seeing them there.
Nevertheless they did not come.

Heaven was merciful, but it was not yet pleased to relieve her soul.

This was her purgation for the sin of making them the slaves of her ambition.