How thin were her tiny hands , how pallid her little face ! She looked as if she might slip away from him in a breath -- sweet little Una , of whom Cecilia had begged him to take such special care . Since his wife 's death he had not felt such an agony of dread as when he had hung over his little girl in her unconsciousness . He must do something -- but what ? Should he ask Elizabeth Kirk to marry him ? She was a good woman -- she would be kind to his children . He might bring himself to do it if it were not for his love for Rosemary West . But until he had crushed that out he could not seek another woman in marriage . And he could not crush it out -- he had tried and he could not . Rosemary had been in church that evening , for the first time since her return from Kingsport . He had caught a glimpse of her face in the back of the crowded church , just as he had finished his sermon . His heart had given a fierce throb . He sat while the choir sang the `` collection piece , '' with his bent head and tingling pulses . He had not seen her since the evening upon which he had asked her to marry him . When he had risen to give out the hymn his hands were trembling and his pale face was flushed . Then Una 's fainting spell had banished everything from his mind for a time . Now , in the darkness and solitude of the study it rushed back . Rosemary was the only woman in the world for him . It was of no use for him to think of marrying any other . He could not commit such a sacrilege even for his children 's sake .
He must take up his burden alone -- he must try to be a better , a more watchful father -- he must tell his children not XXXXX be afraid to come to him with all their little problems .
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