There was a new light on her pale young face when she finally stood up , amid the asters Walter had loved , with the sunshine of autumn around her . For the moment at least , she was lifted above pain and loneliness . `` I will keep faith , Walter , '' she said steadily . `` I will work -- and teach -- and learn -- and laugh , yes , I will even laugh -- through all my years , because of you and because of what you gave when you followed the call . '' Rilla meant to keep Walter 's letter as a a sacred treasure . But , seeing the look on Una Meredith 's face when Una had read it and held it back to her , she thought of something . Could she do it ? Oh , no , she could not give up Walter 's letter -- his last letter . Surely it was not selfishness to keep it . A copy would be such a soulless thing . But Una -- Una had so little -- and her eyes were the eyes of a woman stricken to the heart , who yet must not cry out or ask for sympathy . `` Una , would you like to have this letter -- to keep ? '' she asked slowly . `` Yes -- if you can give it to me , '' Una said dully . `` Then -- you may have it , '' said Rilla hurriedly . `` Thank you , '' said Una . It was all she said , but there was something in her voice which repaid Rilla for her bit of sacrifice . 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 XXXXX her world to grieve .
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