She followed the children to the door, wondering at her heavy heart.  What could it come from?  There was nothing in life for her to fear of course, except for the children, and it was absurd to fear for them.  They were all safe; safe and strong and rooted deep in health, and little Mark was stepping off gallantly into his own life as the others had done.  But she felt afraid.  What could she be afraid of?  As she opened the door, their advance was halted by the rush upon them of Paul’s dog, frantic with delight to see the children ready to be off, springing up on Paul, bounding down the path, racing back to the door, all quivering eager exultation.  “Ah, he’s going with the children!” thought Marise wistfully.

She could not bear to let them leave her and stood with them in the open door-way for a moment.  Elly rubbed her soft cheek against her mother’s hand.  Paul, seeing his mother shiver in the keen March air, said, “Mother, if Father were here he’d make you go in.  That’s a thin dress.  And your teeth are just chattering.”

“Yes, you’re right, Paul,” she agreed; “it’s foolish of me!”

The children gave her a hearty round of good-bye hugs and kisses, briskly and energetically performed, and went down the stone-flagged path to the road.  They were chattering to each other as they went.  Their voices sounded at first loud and gay in their mother’s ears.  Then they sank to a murmur, as the children ran along the road.  The dog bounded about them in circles, barking joyfully, but this sound too grew fainter and fainter.

When the murmur died away to silence, there seemed no sound left in the stark gray valley, empty and motionless between the steep dark walls of pine-covered mountains.

* * * * *

Marise stood for a long time looking after the children.  They were climbing up the long hilly road now, growing smaller and smaller.  How far away they were, already!  And that very strength and vigor of which she was so proud, which she had so cherished and fostered, how rapidly it carried them along the road that led away from her!

They were almost at the top of the hill now.  Perhaps they would turn there and wave to her.

No, of course now, she was foolish to think of such a thing.  Children never remembered the people they left behind.  And she was now only somebody whom they were leaving behind.  She felt the cold penetrate deeper and deeper into her heart, and knew she ought to go back into the house.  But she could not take her eyes from the children.  She thought to herself bitterly, “This is the beginning of the end.  I’ve been feeling how, in their hearts, they want to escape from me when I try to hold them, or when I try to make them let me into their lives.  I’ve given everything to them, but they never think of that. I think of it!  Every time I look at them I see all those endless hours of sacred sacrifice.  But when they look at me, do they see any of that?  No!  Never!  They only see the Obstacle in the way of their getting what they want.  And so they want to run away from it.  Just as they’re doing now.”