It had become, above all for the
Colonel, a part of their lives, a piece of inanimate destiny to which
they felt themselves tied by all the bonds of possession. It was
theirs, and they in turn were possessed by the influence it exercised
over their lives. Their dear ones had died within its walls, and some
intuition, feeling blindly through the lightless passages of the
future, told them that its history was not yet ended.
Colonel Carmichael bent down and looked into Lois' dark face. He had
grown to love her as his own child, and the desire to protect and
guard her from all misfortune was the one strong link that held him in
the world. Life as life had disappointed him, not because he had made
a failure out of it, but because success was not what he had supposed
it to be. It is very likely that his subsequent indifference to
existence, coupled with a far from robust constitution, would have
long since cut short his earthly career had it not been for Lois. She
held him fast. He flattered himself--as what loving soul does
not?--that he was necessary to her, that only his old hand could keep
her path clear from thorns and pitfalls. It was the last duty which
life had given him to perform, and he clung to it gratefully, never
realizing the pathetic truth--the saddest truth of all--that with all
our love, all our heartfelt devotion and self-sacrifice, we can no
more shield our dear ones from the hand of Fate than we can shield
ourselves, and that their salvation, if salvation there be for them,
can only come from their own strength.
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