Some women's hearts are so wonderfully constituted that the greater the
demands upon them the more they are prepared to give. At times they give
and give beyond the bounds of reason, and yet amazingly retain their
faith and hope in the recipients of their gifts.
But that has nothing to do with our story. Except this--that these
various demands on Nance's fortitude, incurred by her love for Stephen
Gard, far from weakening her love only made it the stronger. As that
love came more and more between her and her old surroundings, and
exacted from her sacrifice after sacrifice, the more she clung to it,
and looked to it, and let the past go. The partial ostracism brought
upon her by Gard's outspoken declaration of their mutual feeling--even
this final offering of her dearly-loved brother--these only bound her
heart to him the tighter.
"Nance dear!" he said at last, when she had got control of herself
again. "Is it not possible to hope? He was so good a swimmer. Maybe he
found the Race too strong and was carried away by it. He may have been
picked up, and will come back as soon as he is able.
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