God was merciful to her;" the soft voice broke into a sob; "for me, there is no mercy." "Beth, don't say that! Little woman, don't say that! The future is long; it may yet lead to happiness.

A true love can outlast even the memory of this night." She shook her head wearily, sinking back into the saddle.
"Yes," she said soberly, "love may, and I believe will, outlast all.
It is immortal.

But even love cannot change the deed; nothing ever can, nothing--no power of God or man." He did not attempt to answer, knowing in the depths of his own heart that her words were true.

For an instant she continued gazing at him, as though trustful he might speak, might chance to utter some word of hope that had not come to her.

Then the uplifted head drooped wearily, the searching eyes turning away to stare once again straight ahead.
His very silence was acknowledgment of the truth, the utter hopelessness of the future.