Rilla of Ingleside

It seems as if gladness were killed in me--shot down by the same bullet that pierced Walter's heart

the first Christmas since Courcelette

Una took the letter and when Rilla had gone she pressed it against her lonely lips. Una knew that love would never come into her life now--it was buried for ever under the blood-stained soil "Somewhere in France." No one but herself--and perhaps Rilla--knew it--would ever know it. She had no right in the eyes of her world to grieve. She must hide and bear her long pain as best she could--alone. But she, too, would keep faith