Interlude

She could not bear to let them leave her and stood with them in the open
door-way for a moment. Elly rubbed her soft cheek against her mother's
hand. Paul, seeing his mother shiver in the keen March air, said,
"Mother, if Father were here he'd make you go in. That's a thin dress.
And your teeth are just chattering."

"Yes, you're right, Paul," she agreed; "it's foolish of me!"

The children gave her a hearty round of good-bye hugs and kisses,
briskly and energetically performed, and went down the stone-flagged
path to the road. They were chattering to each other as they went. Their
voices sounded at first loud and gay in their mother's ears. Then they
sank to a murmur, as the children ran along the road. The dog bounded
about them in circles, barking joyfully, but this sound too grew fainter
and fainter.

When the murmur died away to silence, there seemed no sound left in the
stark gray valley, empty and motionless between the steep dark walls of
pine-covered mountains.

* * * * *

Marise stood for a long time looking after the children. They were
climbing up the long hilly road now, growing smaller and smaller. How
far away they were, already! And that very strength and vigor of which
she was so proud, which she had so cherished and fostered, how rapidly
it carried them along the road that led away from her!