I want to go on living HERE. I'm so young, Anne. I haven't had my life. I've fought so hard to live -- and it isn't any use -- I have to die -- and leave EVERYTHING I care for." Anne sat in a pain that was almost intolerable. She could not tell comforting falsehoods; and all that Ruby said was so horribly true. She WAS leaving everything she cared for. She had laid up her treasures on earth only; she had lived solely for the little things of life -- the things that pass -- forgetting the great things that go onward into eternity, bridging the gulf between the two lives and making of death a mere passing from one dwelling to the other -- from twilight to unclouded day. God would take care of her there -- Anne believed -- she would learn -- but now it was no wonder her soul clung, in blind helplessness, to the only things she knew and loved.
Ruby raised herself on her arm and lifted up her bright, beautiful blue eyes to the moonlit skies.
"I want to live," she said, in a trembling voice. "I want to live like other girls. I -- I want to be married, Anne -- and --and -- have little children. You know I always loved babies, Anne.
I couldn't say this to any one but you. I know you understand.
And then poor Herb -- he -- he loves me and I love him, Anne.
The others meant nothing to me, but HE does -- and if I could live I would be his wife and be so happy. Oh, Anne, it's hard."Ruby sank back on her pillows and sobbed convulsively. Anne pressed her hand in an agony of sympathy -- silent sympathy, which perhaps helped Ruby more than broken, imperfect words could have done; for presently she grew calmer and her sobs ceased.
"I'm glad I've told you this, Anne," she whispered. "It has helped me just to say it all out. I've wanted to all summer --every time you came. I wanted to talk it over with you -- but I COULDN'T. It seemed as if it would make death so SURE if ISAID I was going to die, or if any one else said it or hinted it.
I wouldn't say it, or even think it. In the daytime, when people were around me and everything was cheerful, it wasn't so hard to keep from thinking of it. But in the night, when I couldn't sleep -- it was so dreadful, Anne. I couldn't get away from it then.
Death just came and stared me in the face, until I got so frightened I could have screamed.
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"I'll try. I'll think over what you have said, and try to believe it.
And you'll come up as often as you can, won't you, Anne?""Yes, dear."
"It -- it won't be very long now, Anne. I feel sure of that.
And I'd rather have you than any one else. I always liked you best of all the girls I went to school with. You were never jealous, or mean, like some of them were. Poor Em White was up to see me yesterday. You remember Em and I were such chums for three years when we went to school? And then we quarrelled the time of the school concert. We've never spoken to each other since. Wasn't it silly? Anything like that seems silly NOW.
But Em and I made up the old quarrel yesterday. She said she'd have spoken years ago, only she thought I wouldn't. And I never spoke to her because I was sure she wouldn't speak to me. Isn't it strange how people misunderstand each other, Anne?""Most of the trouble in life comes from misunderstanding, I think,"said Anne. "I must go now, Ruby. It's getting late -- and you shouldn't be out in the damp.""You'll come up soon again."
"Yes, very soon. And if there's anything I can do to help you I'll be so glad.""I know. You HAVE helped me already. Nothing seems quite so dreadful now. Good night, Anne.""Good night, dear."
