'Yes, father, always--always!' 'Catherine, life is harder, the narrow way narrower than ever.

I die'-- and memory caught still the piteous, long-drawn breath by which the voice was broken--'in much--much perplexity about many things.

You have a clear soul, an iron will.

Strengthen the others.
Bring them safe to the Day of account.' 'Yes, father, with God's help.
Oh, with God's help!' That long-past dialogue is clear and sharp to her now, as though it were spoken afresh in her ears.

And how has she kept her pledge?
She looks back humbly on her life of incessant devotion, on the tie of long dependence which has bound to her her weak and widowed mother, on her relations to her sisters, the efforts she has made to train them in the spirit of her father's life and beliefs.
Have those efforts reached their term?
Can it be said in any sense that her work is done, her promise kept?
Oh, no--no--she cries to herself, with vehemence.