One night in the darkness it did this,
then left her and broke into a joyous whimpering, such as it used to
make when its master was going to take it out. She even heard it jumping
up as though to paw at him, and wondered dreamily what it could mean.
When she woke in the morning she saw the poor beast lying stiff and cold
upon the bed that had been Anthony's, and though she wept over it, her
tears were perhaps those of envy rather than of sorrow, for she was sure
that it had found Anthony.
More and more Barbara threw out her soul towards Anthony. Across the
void of Nothingness she sent it travelling, nor did it return with
empty hands. Something of Anthony had greeted it, though she could
not remember the greeting, had spoken with it, though she could not
interpret the words. Of this at least she was sure, she had been near to
Anthony.
Once she seemed to see him. In the infinite, infinite distance, millions
of miles away, the sky opened as it were. There in the opening was
Anthony talking with one whom she knew for their daughter, the baby that
had died, talking of her. In a minute they were gone, but she had seen
them, she was sure that she had seen them, and the knowledge warmed her
heart.
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