rom the handwriting in the
dust to these others and they faded away. She was alone with the
kneeling figure and, as she looked, it too vanished in the chill air.

She bent over the pavement. There was nothing there, yet she had
received a message. After a last glance she turned away, new courage,
new life, new hope in her heart.

She mounted the steps, she laid her hand upon the knob of the church
door, she turned it and went bravely within.




VI

The Burden Bearer

"HE, BEARING HIS CROSS, WENT FORTH"




VI

The Burden Bearer


The sound of the running feet of the man smashing through the burned
stubble ceased abruptly. He stopped at the threshold of the door. No
friendly bark of dog welcomed him. From the barn there came no gentle
lowing of cattle, no homely clucking of chickens. Like the house the
byre too had been ruined, gutted with flame.

The soldier whose march had brought him back to his own village that
night stood in the entrance of what had been his home and stared at the
smoking walls, the charred roof gaping to the sky, the empty casements.
The enemy had been there. He whispered his young wife's name, he called
softly to the baby, as if they might be sleeping somewhere within the
devastated house. He listened for a reply but none came. Perhaps he
would have been thankful even for a groan or a cry of agony, anything
that meant life. But all was silence within, without.

Yonder on the winding road at the foot of the hill he could hear the
trampling of men, the groaning of wheels, the clank of iron cavalrymen,
the jingling of bits and swords, sharp words of command. The army was
advancing. He could delay no longer. He must get back to his place in
the ranks. Summoning his courage he crossed the threshold and stepped
into the vacant emptiness of the house. Everything was gone but the four
stone walls. There were unrecognizable heaps of ashes here and there. He
bent over them fearfully in the twilight wondering whether the
shapeless, formless masses we

William Babington Maxwell (18661938) was a British novelist. He was a son of novelist Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Though nearly 50 years old at the outbreak of the First World War, he was accepted as a lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers and served in France until 1917.

Cyrus Townsend Brady (December 20, 1861 January 24, 1920) was a journalist, historian and adventure writer. His most well-known work is Indian Fights and Fighters. He was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1883. He was also a deacon in the Episcopal church. His first wife was Clarissa Guthrie, who died in 1890. His second wife was Mary Barrett.

Rebecca Sophia Clarke (1833-1906), also known as Sophie May, was an American author of childrens fiction. Using her nieces and nephews as inspiration, she wrote realistic stories about children. She wrote 45 books between 1860 and 1903. The most popular being the Little Prudy books. She lived most of her life in her native town of Norridgewock, Maine, where she lived out her life with her sister, who was also a successful author.