It was the picture of Buck's young face, full of strength and confidence. Somehow the picture was always one of hope. It caught no reflection of her own trouble, but lived in her memory undiminished by any despair, however black.
Once or twice she found herself wondering at it. Sometimes she felt it to be merely a trick of memory to taunt her with that which could never be, and so she tried to shut out the vague hopes it aroused. But, as time went on, and the hour for her aunt's return drew near, the recurrence of the picture became so persistent that it was rarely out of her mental vision. It was a wonderful thought. She saw him as she had seen him when first he laughed her threat of disaster and death to scorn. She could never forget that moment. She could hear his laugh now, that laugh, so full of youthful courage, which had rung through the old barn.
Pondering thus her mind suddenly traveled back to something which, in the midst of all her tribulations, had completely passed out of her recollection. She was startled. She was startled so that she gasped with the sudden feeling it inspired. What was it? Something her aunt had said. Yes, she remembered now. And with memory the very words came back to her, full of portentous meaning. And as they rushed pell-mell through her straining brain a great uplifting bore her toward that hope which she suddenly realized was not yet dead.
"Go you and find a love so strong that no disaster can kill it. And maybe life may still have some compensations for you, maybe it will lift the curse from your suffering shoulders. It--it is the only thing in the world that is stronger than disaster. It is the only thing in the world that is stronger than--death."
They were her aunt's words spoken in the vehemence of her prophetic passion. It was the one thing, she had warned her, that could save her.
Was this the love she had found? Was this the love to lead her to salvation--this wonderful love of Buck's? Was this that which was to leave life some compensations? Was this that which was stronger than disaster--than death? Yes, yes! Her love was her life. And now without it she must die. Yes, yes! Buck--young, glorious in his courage and strength. He was stronger than disaster, and their love--was it not stronger than death?
From the moment of this wonderful recollection, a gentle calm gradually possessed her. The straining of those two long wakeful nights, the nightmare of dread which had pursued her into the daylight hours, left her with a sudden ease of thought she had never hoped to find again. It all came back to her. Her aunt had told her whither she must seek the key that would unlock the prison gates of fate, and all inadvertently she had found it.