ALONEinherroomoncemore,memoriesofthepastcrowdeduponher.ThelastyearsfledfromhermindandBerthasawvividlyagainthefirstdaysofherlove,thevisittoEdwardathisfarm,thenightatthegateofCourtLeyswhenheaskedhertomarryhim.Sherecalledtherapturewithwhichshehadflungherselfintohisarms.ForgettingtherealEdwardwhohadjustdied,sherememberedthetallstrongyouthwhohadmadeherfaintwithloveandherpassionreturned,overwhelming.Onthechimney-piecestoodaphotographofEdwardashewasthenithadbeenbeforeherforyears,butshehadnevernoticedit.Shetookitandpressedittoherheart,andkissedit.Athousandthingscamebackandshesawhimagainstandingbeforeherashewas,manly,strong,sothatshefelthisloveaprotectionagainstalltheworld.
Butwhatwastheusenow?
“IshouldbemadifIbegantolovehimagainwhenitistoolate.”
Berthawasappalledbytheregretwhichshefeltrisingwithinher,adevilthatwrungherheartinanirongrip.Oh,shecouldnotriskthepossibilityofgrief,shehadsufferedtoomuchandshemustkillinherselfthespringsofpain.Shedarednotleavethingswhichinfutureyearsmightbethefoundationsofanewidolatry.Heronlychanceofpeacewastodestroyeverythingthatmightrecallhim.
Sheseizedthephotographandwithoutdaringtolookagain,withdrewitfromtheframeandrapidlytoreitinpieces.Shelookedroundtheroom.
“Imusn’tleaveanything,”shemuttered.
ShesawonatableanalbumcontainingpicturesofEdwardatallages,thechildwithlongcurls,theurchininknickerbockers,theschoolboy,theloverofherheart.ShehadpersuadedhimtobephotographedinLondonduringtheirhoneymoon,andhewasthereinhalf-a-dozendifferentpositions.Berthathoughtherheartwouldbreakasshedestroyedthemonebyone,anditneededallthestrengthshehadtopreventherfromcoveringthemwithpassionatekisses.Herfingersachedwiththetearing,butinalittlewhiletheyw