47 He has given his life in saving mine! Oh, would that I had died for thee! My Herald! My Herald!" This was ever more Olive's cry during the days of awful suspense, when they knew not but that every hour might be Herald's last. He had broken a blood vessel in the lungs. Through some violent mental emotion, the physician said, nothing else could have produced such results in his usually strong and manly frame. And it was for me! For me! moaned Olive. Yet I doubted him. I almost called him cruel. Oh, that I should never have known his heart until now. Every feeling of womanly shame vanished before the threatening shadow of death. Night and day, Olive hovered about the door of Herald's room, listening for any sound. But there was always silence. No one passed in and out except his mother—his mother on whom Olive hardly dared to look, lest, innocent though she was, she might read reproach in Mrs. Gwynne's sorrowful eye. Once she even ventured to hint this. I angry! Because it was in saving you that this happened to my son. No, Olive, no. Whatever God sends, we will bear together. Mrs. Gwynne said this kindly, but her heart seemed frozen to every thought except one. She rarely quitted Herald's chamber, and scarcely noticed any person, not even Olive. One night, or rather early morning, during the time of great crisis, she came out, and saw Olive standing in the passage, with a face whereon was written such utter woe, that before it even the mother's sorrow paled. It seemed to move Mrs. Gwynne deeply. My dear, how long have you been here? All night. Poor child! Poor child! It is all I can do for him and you. If I could only—I guess what you would say. No. No. He must be perfectly quiet. He must not see or hear you. And the mother turned away, as though she had said too much. But what to Olive was it now to know that Herald loved her? She would have resigned all the blessing of his love to bring to him health and life. So crushed, so hopeless was her look that Herald's mother pitied her. Thinking a moment, she said, He is fast asleep now. If it would comfort you, poor child, to look at him for one moment. But it must be only one. Olive bowed her head. She was past speaking, and followed Mrs. Gwynne. With a step as silent and solemn as though she were going to look on death, she went and looked on the beloved of her heart. Herald lay. His face perfectly blanched, his dark hair falling heavily on the pillow, as if never to be stirred by life or motion more. They stood by his bed, the mother that bore him, and the woman who loved him dearer than her own soul. These two, the strongest of all earthly loves, so blended in one object, constrained them each to each. They turned from gazing on Herald and sank into one another's arms. For a few more days continued this agonizing wrestling with death, during which they who would have given their life for Herald's could only look on and pray. During this time there came news to Olive from the world without, news that otherwise would have moved her, but which was now coldly received, as of no moment at all. Lyle Derwent had suddenly married, his heart like many another being one in the rebound. And Mrs. Flora Rothsay had passed away, dying in the night peacefully and without pain, for they found her in the attitude of sleep. But even for her Olive had no tears. She only shuddered over the letter because it spoke of death.  She walked in its shadow night and day. Her only thought and prayer was, Give me his life, only his life, O God! And Herald's life was given her. But the hope came very faintly at first, or it might have been too much to bear. Day by day it grew stronger, until all present danger was gone. But there were many chances to be guarded against, and so, as soon as this change for the better arrived, Olive came to look at him in his sleep no more. His mother was very cautious over his every look and word, so that Olive could not even learn whether he had ever given any sign that he thought of her. And now that his health was returning, her womanly reserve came back. She no longer lingered at his door. Even her joy was restrained and mingled with a trembling doubt. At length, Herald was allowed to be moved to his mother's dressing-room. Very eager and joyful Mrs. Gwynne was, ransacking the house for pillows to make him lie easy on the sofa, and plaids to wrap him in. Full of that glad, even childish excitement, with which we delight to hail the recovery of one beloved who has been nearly lost. The pleasure extended itself over the whole household, to whom their master was very dear. Olive only sat in her own room, listening to every footstep. Mrs. Gwynne came to her at last. It is all done, my dear, and he is not so weak as we feared, but he is very much exhausted still. We must take great care, even now." Certainly, answered Olive, she knew what the anxious mother meant, and dared not utter the longing at her heart. "'I hardly know what to do,' said Mrs. Gwynne restlessly. He has been asking to see you." "'To see me? And may I?' I told him not to-day, and I was right. Child, look at your own face now. Until you can calm yourself, you shall not see my Herald. Without offering any opposition, Olive sat down. Mrs. Gwynne was melted. Nay, she said, you shall do as you will, little patient one. I left him asleep now. You shall stay by him until he wakes. Come!' She took her to the door, but quitted her there, perhaps remembering the days when she too was young. Olive entered noiselessly, and took her place by Herald's side. He was sleeping, though it was not the deathlike sleep in which she had beheld him that mournful night, but a quiet, healthful slumber. His whole face seemed softened and spiritualized, as is often the case with strong men whom a long illness has brought low. With childlike helplessness there seems to come a childlike peace. Olive knew now why Mrs. Gwynne had said, a few days since, that Herald looked as he had done when he was a little boy, his mother's only boy. For a few minutes Olive sat silently watching. She felt how utterly she loved him. How, he died, the whole world would have faded from her like a blank dream. And even now should she have to part from him in any way? I cannot. I cannot. It would be more than I could bear. And from the depth of her heart rose a heavy sigh. Herald seemed to hear it. He moved a little and said, faintly, who is there? It is I. Olive, little Olive. His white cheek flushed and he held out his hand. She, remembering his mother's caution, only whispered, I am so glad, so glad. It is a long time since I saw you, he said, brokenly. Stand so that I can look at you, Olive. She obeyed. He looked long and wistfully at her face. You have been weeping, I see. Wherefore? Because I am so happy to think you are better. Is that true? Do you think so much of me? And a pale but most joyful smile broke over his face. Though, leaving it, the features trembled with emotion. Olive was alarmed. You must not talk now. Not one word. Remember how very ill you have been. I will sit by you here. Oh, what can I ever do or say in gratitude for all you have done for me? Gratitude. Herald echoed the word, as if with pain, and then lay still, looking up at her no more. Gradually there came a change over his countenance, as if some bitter thought were slowly softening into calmness. Olive, he said, you speak of gratitude, then what must be mine to you? In those long hours when I lay conscious but silent, knowing that there might be but a breath between me and eternity, how should I have felt had I not learnt from you that holy faith which conquers death? Thank God! Thank God! But you are weak and must not speak. I must, for I am stronger now. I draw strength from your very presence, you who have been my life's good angel. Let me tell you so while I can. While you can? Yes. For I sometimes think that, though I am thus far better, I shall never be quite myself again. But slowly, perhaps without suffering, pass away from this world. Oh no! Oh no! And Olive clasped his hand tighter, looking up with a terrified air. You cannot! Shall not die! I could not bear it!   Little Olive, to think that you should weep thus and I should be so calm. He waited a while until her emotion had ceased.  Nay, tremble not, for I am going to speak very solemnly. Of things that I might never have uttered save for such an hour as this. You will listen, my own dear friend, my sister, as you said you would be. Yes, yes, always. Ah, Olive, you thought not that you were more to me than any friend, any sister, that I loved you, not calmly, motherly, but with all the strength and passion of my heart, as a man loves the woman he would choose out of all the world to be his wife. These words trembled on lips, white as though they had been the lips of death. Olive heard, but she only pressed his hand without speaking. Harold went on, I tell you this, because now, when I feel so changed that all earthly things grow dim, I am not too proud to say I love you. Once I was, you stole into my heart before I was aware. Oh, how I wrestled against this love, I who had been once deceived, so that I believed in no woman's truth. At last I resolved to trust in yours, but I would try to be quite sure of it first. You remember how I talked to you, and how you answered, in the hermitage of braid. Then I knew you loved, but I thought you loved not me. How could you think so? Oh, Harold! Harold! As she uttered his name, tremulously, as a woman breathes for the first time the beloved name in the beloved ear, Harold started, but still he answered calmly. Whether that thought was true or not would not change what I am about to say now. All my pride is gone. I only desire that you should know how deeply I loved you, and that, living or dying, I shall love you ever more. I'll have tried to answer, tried to tell him the story of her one great love, so hopeless yet so faithful, so passionate yet so dumb, but she could utter nothing save the murmur. Harold! Harold! And therein he learnt all. Looking upon her, there came into his face an expression of unutterable joy. He made an effort to raise himself, but in vain. Come, he murmured, come near me, Olive, my little Olive that loves me. Is it not so? Ever from the first, you only! None but you! Kiss me, then, my own faithful one, he said faintly. Olive leaned over him and kissed him on the eyes and mouth. He tried to fold his arms round her, but failed. I have no strength at all, he said sorrowfully. I cannot take her to my heart, my darling, my wife. So worn out am I, so weak. But I am strong, Olive answered.  He looked up, smiling. Oh, this is sweet, very sweet. I could sleep. I could almost die, thus. No! God will not let you die, my Harold! whispered Olive, and then neither spoke again. Overpowered by an emotion which was too much for his feeble strength, Harold lay quiet. By degrees when the room darkened, for it was evening, his breathing grew deeper, and he fell asleep, his head still resting on Olive's shoulder. She looked down upon him, his wasted face, his thin hand that, even in slumber, still clung helplessly to hers. What a tide of emotion swept through her heart! It seemed that therein was gathered up for him every tenderness that woman's soul could know. She loved him at once with the love of mother, sister, friend, and wife. Loved him as those only can who have no other kindred tie, nothing in the whole wide world to love beside. She laid her cheek against his hair, but softly, lest she should waken him. I thought to have led a whole long lonely life for thy sake, Harold, and I would have led it, without murmuring, either against heaven or thee, knowing my own unworthiness. But since it is not to be so, I will give thee instead a whole life of faithful love, a wife's love, such as never was wife's before. And then, over long years, her fancy went back, discerning how all things had worked together to this end. She saw how patience had ripened into hope, and suffering into joy. Not one step of the whole weary way had been trodden in vain. Not one thorn had pierced her feet, that had not, while entering there, distilled a saving balm. Traveling over many scenes, her memory beheld Harold, as in those early days when her influence and her prayers had changed his heart, and led him from darkness to light. Again, as in the first bitterness of her love for him, when continually he tortured her, never dreaming of the wounds he gave. And once more, as in the time, when knowing her fate, she had calmly prepared to meet it, and tried to make herself a true friend unto him. He so unresponsive, cold and stern. Remembering him thus, she looked at him as he lay, turning for rest and comfort to her, only her. Once more, she kissed his forehead as he slept, and then her lips uttered the words with which Mrs. Flora had blessed her. Oh God, I thank thee, for thou hast given me my heart's desire. Soon after Mrs. Quinn entered the room. But no blush came to Olive's cheek. Too solemn was her joy. Hush! she whispered. Do not wake him. He loves me. I know it now. You will not be angry. I have loved him always. I knew it, Olive. Harold's mother stood a long time in silence.  Air it ended, he awoke. Mother, is not that my mother? Yes, Mrs. Quinn answered. She went up and kissed them both, first her son and afterwards Olive. Then, without speaking, she quitted the room, leaving them alone together. End of Chapter 47 Chapter 48 of Olive. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. It was a Sunday afternoon, not bright, but dull. All the long day the low clouds had been dropping freshness down, the soft May rain which falls warm and silent, as if the spring were weeping itself away for very gladness. Through the open window came the faint odor which the earth gives forth during rain, an odor of bursting leaves and dew-covered flowers. On the lawn you could almost have seen the grass grow, and though the sky was dull and gray, still the whole air was so full of summer, so rich in the promise of what the next day would be, that you did not marvel to hear the birds singing as merrily as if it had been sunshine. There was one thrush to which Olive had stood listening for half an hour. He sat sheltered in the heart of the great syringa bush, though the rain kept dropping continually from its flowers. He poured out a song so long and merry that he even disturbed his friends in the parlor, the happy, silent three, mother, son, and the sons betrothed. Mrs. Gwynne, who sat in the far corner, put down her book, the best book for Sunday and all other days, the only one she ever read now. Harold, still feeble, lying back in his armchair by the window, listened to the house bird. "'Do you like to hear it, or shall I close the window?' said Olive, coming towards him. "'Nay, it does me good. Everything does me good now,' he answered, smiling, and then he lay a long time, quietly looking on the garden and the misty view beyond. Olive sat, looking alone at him, watching him in that deep peace, that satisfied content with which our eyes drink in every lineament beloved, when, all sorrow past, the fullness of love has come. No need had she to seek his, as though asking restlessly, "'Do you love me?' In her own love's completeness she desired no demonstration of his. To her it was perfect joy only to sit near him and to look at his face, the face which, whether seen or remembered, shone distinct from every other face in the wide world, and had done so from the first moment when it met her sight. Very calm and beautiful it was now. So beautiful that even his mother turned round and looked at him for a moment with dimmed eyes. "'You are sure you feel quite well today? I mean as well as usual.  I think I could even exert myself more, but there is such sweetness in this dreamy life. I am so happy. It will be almost a pain to go back to the troublesome world again.' "'Do not say so, my son. Indeed we must have you quite well soon. The sooner the better, and then you will return to all your old duties. When I sat in church this morning, I was counting how many Sundays it would possibly be before I heard my son Harold's voice there again.' Harold moved restlessly. "'What say you, Olive, my dear?' continued Mrs. Gwyn. "'Will it not be a pleasure to hear him in his own pulpit again? How soon, thank you, will he be able to preach?' "'I cannot tell,' answered Olive, in a low voice, and she looked anxiously at her betrothed. For well she knew his heart, and well she guessed that though that heart was pure and open in the sight of God and in her sight, it might not be so in that of every man. And although his faith was now the Christian faith, even in many points that of the church, still Olive doubted whether he would ever be a church of England minister again. No wonder that she watched his face in anxious love, and then looked from him to his mother, who, all unconscious, continued to speak. "'In truth all your parishioners will be glad to have you back.' Even Mrs. Fledger was saying so yesterday, and noticing that it was a whole year since you had preached in your own church. A long absence. Of course it could not be helped. Still it was rather a pity. Please God it shall not happen again. Shall it, Harold?' "'Mother, mother!' His hands were crushed together, and with a look of pain Olive stole to his side. "'Perhaps we are talking too much.  "'I have thought of this before. I knew I must tell it to her. All the truth.' "'But not now. Not now. Wait till you are stronger. Wait a week, a day.' "'No, not an hour. It is right.' "'What are you talking to my son about?' said Mrs. Gwynne, with a quick jealousy, which even yet was not altogether stilled. Neither of the betrothed spoke. "'You are not hiding anything from me, Harold, from me, your mother.' "'My mother, my noble self-denying mother,' murmured Harold, as if thinking aloud. "'Surely if I sinned for her, God will forgive me.' "'Sinned for me? What are you talking of, Harold? Is there anything in your mind? Anything I do not know?' And her eyes, still tender, yet with a half-formed suspicion, were fixed searchingly on her son. And when, as if to shield him even from his mother, Olive leaned over him, Mrs. Gwynne's voice grew stern with reproof. "'Stand aside, Olive. Let me see his face. Not even you have a right to interpose between me and my son.'" Olive moved a little aside. Very meek was she, as one had need to be whom Mrs. Gwynne would call daughter and Harold wife. Yet by her meekness she had oftentimes controlled them both. She did so now.  "'My mother says right. Let her come and sit by me a little. Nay, stay near, though. I must have you in my sight. It will strengthen me.'" She pressed his hand and went away to the other end of the room. Then Harold said, tenderly, "'Mother, I want to tell you something.' "'It is no misfortune, no sin. Oh, my son, I am too old to bear either,' she answered, as she sat down, trembling a little. "'My own mother, my mother that I love, dearer now than ever in my life before, listen to me, and then judge me.'" Twelve or fourteen years ago there was a son, an only son, who had a noble mother. She had sacrificed everything for him. The time came when he had to sacrifice something for her. It was a point of conscience, light perhaps then, but still it caused him a struggle. He must conquer it, and he did so. He stifled all scruples, pressed down all doubts, and became a minister of a church in whose faith he did not quite believe. "'Go on,' said Mrs. Gwynne hurriedly, "'I had a fear once, a bitter fear, but no matter, go on.' "'Well, he did this sin, for sin it was, though done for his mother's sake. He had better have supported her by the labour of his hands than have darkened his soul by a lie. But he did not think of that then. All the fault was his, not his mother's. Mind, I say, not his mother's.' She looked at him, and then looked away again. He could blame no one but himself. He never did, though his first faint doubts grew until they prisoned him like a black mist, through which he could see neither earth nor heaven. Men's natures are different. His was not meant for that of a quiet village priest. Circumstances, associations, habits of mind, all were against him. And so his skepticism and his misery increased, until, in despair of heaven, he plunged into the oblivion of an earthly passion. He went mad for a woman's beauty, for her beauty only.  His betrothed saw it, but she felt no pain. She knew that her own love had shown down into his heart's dark depths, removing every stain, binding up every wound. By that love's great might she had saved him, won him, and would have power to keep him ever more. Mother, Harold pursued, I must pass on quickly to the end. This man's one error seemed to cause all fate to rise against him, that he might become an infidel to God and to man. At last he had faith in no living soul except his mother. This alone saved him from being the vilest wretch that ever crawled, as he was already the most miserable. A faint groan, only one, broke from the depth of the mother's heart, but she never spoke. There was no escape. His pride shut out that. So year after year he fulfilled his calling, and lived his life, honestly, morally, towards man at least, but towards heaven it was one long awful lie. For he, a minister in God's temple, was in his heart an infidel. Harold stopped. In his strong excitement he had forgotten his mother. She, letting go his hand, glided to her knees. There she knelt for a long time, her lips moving silently. At last she rose. Her grand figure lifted to its utmost height. Her face very stern, her voice without one tone of tremulous age or mother's anguish.  Was, but is not. Never will be more. His mother have mercy, for heaven has had mercy too. I am no sceptic now. I believe, I, fervently and humbly believe. Mrs. Gwyn uttered a great cry and fell on his neck. Never since the time when he was a child in her arms had he received such a passionate clasp, an embrace mingled with weeping that shook the whole frame of the aged mother. For a moment she lifted her head, murmured a thanksgiving for the son who was dead and alive again, was lost and found, and then she clung to him once more.  You there, Olive?  But Harold held his betrothed fast. Nay, mother, take her and bless her, for it was she who saved your son. And then, in a few broken words, he told the rest of the tale, told it so that not even his mother could be wounded by the thought of a secret known to Olive and concealed from her, of an influence that over her son was more powerful than her own. Afterwards, when Olive's arms were round her neck, and Olive's voice was heard imploring pardon for both, her whole heart melted within her. Solemnly she blessed her sons betrothed and called her daughter. Now, my Harold, she said, when all trace of emotion having passed from either, she sat quietly by her son's side. Now I understand all. Olive is right. With your love of action, and a spirit that would perhaps find a limitation in the best forms of belief, you never can be again a minister of the English church. We must not think of it any more. But mother, how shall we live? That is what tortures me. With or shall we turn if we go from Harbury? Alone I could bear anything, but you. No matter for me. My Harold, she added, a little moved. If you had trusted me and told me your sufferings at any time all these years, I would have given up everything here and lived as I once did when you were a youth at college. It was not hard then, nor would it have been now.  He looked at her, and slowly, slowly there rose in his eyes, those clear, proud, manly eyes, two great, crystal tears. He was not ashamed of them. He let them gather and fall, and olive loved him dearer, I ten thousand times, even though these tears, the first and last she ever beheld him shed, were given not to her, but to his mother. Mrs. Gwynn resumed, let us think what we must do, for we have no time to lose. As soon as you are quite strong you must give up the curacy, and we will leave Harbury. Your dear old home from which you have often said you could never part. Oh, mother, mother, it is nothing, do not think of it, my son. Afterwards what must you do? I cannot tell. Olive, think for me," said Harold, looking helplessly towards her. Olive advised, timidly at first, but growing firmer as she proceeded, that he should carry out his old plan of going to America. They talked over the project for a long time and assured. Air the afternoon closed it was finally decided on, at least so far as Harold's yet doubtful health permitted. But I shall grow strong now, I know. Mother, Olive, my heart is lightened of the load of years. And truly it seemed so. Nay, when tea-time came he even rose and walked across the room with something of his old firm's step, as if the returning health were strong within him. After tea, Harbury bells broke out in the evening chime. Mrs. Gwynn rose. Olive asked if she were thinking of going to church. Yes, to thank God. Go with her, Olive," said Harold, as he watched his mother from the room. Olive followed, but Mrs. Gwynn said she would rather go to church alone and Harold must not be left. Olive stayed with her a few minutes, rendering all those little services which youth can so sweetly pay to age. And sweet too was the reward when Harold's mother kissed her and more called her daughter.  Harold was again sitting in his favourite armchair by the window. The rain had lately ceased, and just at the horizon there had come to the heavy grey sky a golden fringe, a line of watery light so dazzling that the eye could scarcely bear it. It filled the whole room and fell like a glory on Harold's head. Olive stood still to look at him. She saw that he was not asleep, though his eyes were cast down in painful thought. Something in his expression reminded her of that which she had worn on the night when he first came to Edinburgh, and she had leaned over him, longing to comfort him, as she had now a right to do. She did so. He felt the kiss on his brow and smiled. "'Little Olive, good little Olive, she always comes when I most need her,' he said fondly. "'Little Olive is very happy and so doing. And now tell me what you were thinking of, that you pressed your lips together and knotted your forehead, the broad, beautiful forehead that I love. It was not good of you, my Harold.' "'Do not jest, Olive. I cannot. If I go abroad I must go alone. What will become of my mother and Ily?' "'They shall stay and comfort me. Nay, you will not forbid it. How could I go on with my painting, living all alone?' "'Aye, there is another sting,' he answered. "'One word, say you. But I feel it. How many years you may have still to work on alone?' "'Do you think I fear that? Nay, I do not give my heart like some women I have known. From dread of living to be an old maid, or to gain a house, a name, and a husband, I gave it for love, pure love.  You know not how sweet it is to love you and be loved by you to share all your cares and rejoice in all your joys. Indeed, indeed I am content.' "'You might, my gentle one, but not I. Little you think how strong is man's pride, how stronger still is man's love. We will not look to such a future. I could not bear it.  Poor or not, what care I, so you are mine?' He spoke hurriedly, like the proud Harold of old. I, the pride, mingled with a stronger passion still. But Olive smiled both down. Harold, she said, parting his hair with her cool, soft hands. Do not be angry with me. You know I love you dearly. Sometimes I think I must have loved you before you loved me long. Yet I am not ashamed of this.' Ah, he muttered, how often ignorantly I must have made you suffer. Then, blindly struggling with my own pride, have I tortured you. But still, still I loved you. Forgive me, dear. Nay, there is nothing to forgive. The joy has blotted out all the pain. It shall do so when you are once mine. That must be soon, Olive, soon.' She answered firmly, though a little blushing the while. It should be tomorrow, if for your good. But it would not be. You must not be troubled with worldly cares. To see you so would break my heart. No, you must be free to work and gain fame and success. My love shall never fetter you down to anxious poverty.  Gradually she led him to consent to her entreaty, that they should both work together for their dearest ones, and that in the home which she with her slender means could win, there should ever be a resting place for Mrs. Gwyn and for Little Eiley. She sat in the twilight with clasped hands, speaking softly and brokenly, or else never speaking at all, only feeling that they were together, they too, who were all in all to each other, while the whole world of life went whirling outside, never touching that sweet center of complete repose. At last Olive's full heart ran over. Oh, Harold! she cried, this happiness is almost more than I can bear. Love me thus, me, poor little Olive, sometimes I feel, as I once bitterly felt, how unworthy I am of you. Darling, why? Because I have no beauty, and besides, I cannot speak it, but you know, you know.  The words and act revealed how deeply in her heart lay the sting which had at times tortured her her whole life through. Shame for that personal imperfection with which nature had marked her from her birth, and which, forgotten in an hour by those who learned to love her, still seemed to herself a perpetual humiliation. The pang came, but only for the last time Eric quitted her heart for ever. For, dispelling all doubts, healing all wounds, fell the words of her betrothed husband, tender though grave. Olive, if you love me and believe that I love you, never grieve me by such thoughts again. To me you are all beautiful in heart and mind, in form and soul. Then, as if silently to count up her beauties, he kissed her little hands, her soft smiling mouth, her long gold curls, and Olive hid her face in his breast, murmuring, I am content since I am fair in your sight, my herald, my only love. CHAPTER 49 Late autumn, that season so beautiful in Scotland, was shining into the house at Morningside. She, its mistress, who had there lived from middle life to far extended years, and then passed from the weakness of age to the renewed youth of immortality, was seen no more within its walls. But her spirit seemed to abide there still, in the flowers which at early spring she had planted for other hands to gather, in the fountain she had placed, which sang its song of murmuring freshness to soothe many in ear and heart, when she, walking by the streams of living waters, needed those of earth no more. Mrs. Flora Rothsay was dead, but she had lived one of those holy lives whose influence remains for generations. So, though now her name had gradually ceased from familiar lips, and from her house and garden walks, her image faded slowly in the thoughts of those who best loved her, still she lived, even on earth, in the good deeds she had left behind, in the happiness she had created, wherever her own sore wounded footsteps trod. In the dwelling from which she had departed there seemed little change. Everything looked as it had done more than a year when Olive had come thither and found rest and peace. There were fewer flowers in the autumnal garden, and the hermitage woods beyond were all brown and gold, but there was the same clear line of the braid hills, their purple slopes lying in the early morning sun. No one looked at them, though, for the breakfast room was empty. But very soon there stole into it with the soft footstep of old, with the same quiet smile Olive Rothsay. No, reader, neither you nor anyone else will ever see Olive Rothsay more.  She bears a new name, the well-beloved name. She is Harold Gwynne's wife now. To their fortunes Heaven allowed, as Heaven sometimes does, the sweetness of a brave resolve, the joy of finding that it is not needed. Scarcely had Olive and her betrothed prepared to meet their future and go on, faithfully loving though perhaps unwetted for years, when a change came. They learned that Mrs. Flora Rothsay, by a will made a little before her death, had devised her whole fortune to Harold, on condition that he should take the name of his ancestors on the mother's side, and be henceforth Harold Gordon Gwynne. She made no reservations, save that she wished her house and personal property at Morningside to go to her grandniece, Olive, adding in the will the following sentence, I leave her this and no more, that she may understand how deeply I reverenced her true woman's nature, and how dearly I loved herself. And Olive did understand all, but she hid the knowledge in her rejoicing heart, both then and always. It was the only secret she ever kept from her husband. She had been married some weeks only, yet she felt as if the old life had been years gone by, so faint and dreamlike did it seem. Hers was a very quiet marriage, a quiet honeymoon, fit crowning of a love which had been so solemn, almost sad from its beginning to its end. Its end, say rather its new dawn, its fulfillment in a deeper, holier bond than is ever dreamed of by girlish sentiment or boyish passion, the still, sacred love of marriage. And however your modern infidels may doubt, and your free-thinking heart is off, that is the true love, the tie which God created from the beginning, making man and woman to be one flesh and pronouncing it good. It is good. None can question it who sees the look of peace and full contentment, a look whose like one never beholds in the wide world save then, as it sits smiling on the face of a bride who has married for true love. Very rare it is, indeed. Rare as such marriages ever are, as it sometimes. We saw it, reader, a while since, on a young wife's face, and it made us think of little Olive in her happy home at Morningside. She stood by the window for a minute or two, her artist soul drinking in all that was beautiful in the scene. Then she went about her little household duties, already grown so sweet. She took care that Mrs. Gwynne's easy-chair was placed in its proper angle by the fire, and that Harold had beside his plate a great, ugly scientific book which he always liked to read at breakfast. Indeed, it was a saying of Mary and McGillivray's, from whose bonny face the cloud had altogether passed, leaving only a thoughtful gravity meet for a girl who would shortly leave her maiden home for one far dearer. Mary in often said that Mr. Gwynne was trying to make his wife as learned as himself, and that his influence was robbing their Scottish Academy of no one knew how many grand pictures. Perhaps it might be. It was a natural and a womanly thing that in her husband's fame Olive should almost forget her own. When she had seen all things ready Olive went away upstairs, and stood by a child's bed, little Ily's. Not the least sweet of all her new ties was it that Harold's daughter was now her own. And tender, like a mother's, was the kiss with which she wakened the child.  Oh, how good you are to me, my sweet dear new mama, cried the happy little one, clinging round Olive's neck. What a pretty pretty book, and you have written in it my name, Ily. But, she added after a shy pause, I wish, if you do not mind, that you would put there my whole long name which I am just learning to write. That I will, my pet, come tell me what shall I say. Word for word. Allison? Yes, that is it. My beautiful long name which I like so much, though no one ever calls me by it. Allison, Sarah, Gwyn. Sarah? Did they call you Sarah? said Olive, letting her pen fall. She took the little girl in her arms, and looked long and wistfully into the large oriental eyes, so like those which death had long failed. And her tears rose remembering the days of her youth. How strange, how very strange had been her whole life's current, even until now.  But heaven had so willed it, and to that end had made all things tend. It was best for all. One moment her heart melted, thinking of the garden at the edge, the thorn-tree at the riverside, and afterwards at the long-closed grave at Harbury, over which the grass waved in forgotten silence.  A mother! The word brought back, as it often did when Harold's daughter called her by that name, another memory, never forgotten, though the holy records of the past. Even on her marriage day the thought had come. Oh, thou, to whom in life I gave all love, all duty, now needed by thee no more, both pass unto him. If souls can behold and rejoice in the happiness of those beloved on earth, mother, look down from heaven and bless my husband. Nor did it wrong the dead, if this marriage bond involved another, which awakened in olive's feelings almost a renewal of the love once buried in Mrs. Rothsay's grave. And Harold's wife inly vowed that while she lived, his mother should never want the devotion and affection of a daughter. In the past fading memories of olive's former life was one more, which now grew into a duty over whose fulfillment, even amidst her bridal happiness, she pondered continually and talked thereof to her husband, to whom it was scarcely less absorbing. Since they came home to Morningside, they had constantly sought at St. Margaret's for news of crystal manners. Many times olive had written to her, but no answer came. The silence of the convent walls seemed to fold itself over all revelations of the tortured spirit which had found refuge there. However, crystal had taken no vows. Mrs. Flora and Harold had both been rigid on that point, and the good nuns reverenced their order too much to admit anyone might have sought it from the impulse of despair, rather than from any pious vocation. Olive's heart yearned over her sister. On this day she resolved to make one more effort to break the silence between them. So, in the afternoon, she went to the convent quite alone, walking through the pleasant lanes where she had formerly walked with Marion McGillivray. Strange contrast between the present and the past. When she stood in the little convent parlor, she remembered how she had stood there with a bursting heart that longed for any rest, any oblivion to dead in its cruel pain. Olive trembled with her happiness now, and she felt how solemn is the portion of those whose cup God has thus crowned, in order that they may pour it out before him continually, in offerings of thanksgiving and of fruitful deeds. Sister Ignatia entered, the same bright-eyed, benevolent, simple soul.  I can hardly remember your new name even yet, but I fear you are coming as vain, though day after day I beseech your sister to see you. She will not, then, said Olive, sighing. No, yet she says she has no bitterness against you. How could she? However I ask no questions, for the past is all forgotten here, and I love the poor young creature. Oh, if you knew her pasts, her vigils, and her prayers, God and the Holy Mother pity her. Poor, broken-hearted thing, said the compassionate nun. Speak to her once more. Do not tell her I am here. Only speak of me to her, said Olive. And she waited anxiously until Sister Ignatia came back. She says she is glad you are happy, and married to that good friend of hers, to whom she owes so much, but that she is dead to the world and wishes to hear any more. Still, when I told her you lived at Morningside, she began to tremble. I think. I hope if she were to see you suddenly before she had time to reflect, only not now, you look so agitated yourself. No. No, I can always be calm at will. I have long learned that. Your plan is kind. Let it be to-day. It may end in good, please God. Where is my dear sister? She is sitting in the dormitory of the school. She stays a great deal with our little girls, and takes much care of them, especially of some orphans that we have. Olive sighed. Well, she read unhappy crystal's reason. But it showed some softening of the stony heart. Almost hopeful, she followed Sister Ignatia to the dormitory. It was a long narrow room lined with tiny white beds. Over its pure neatness good fairies might have continually presided. Through it swept the fresh air coming from the open window which overlooked the garden. And there, darkening it with her tall black shadow, stood the only present occupant of the room, crystal manners. She wore a garb half secular, half religious. Her black, surged dress betrayed no attention to fashion, scarcely even to neatness. Her beautiful hair was all put back under a white linen veil, and her whole appearance showed that last bitter change in a woman's nature, when she ceases to have a woman's instinctive personal pride. Olive saw not her face, except the cheek's outline, worn to the straightness of age. Nor did crystal observe Olive until she had approached quite close. Then she gave a wild start. The old angry flush mounted to her temples, and sank. Why did you come here? She said, hoarsely. I sent you word I wished to see no one, that I was utterly dead to the world. But not to me. Oh, not to me, my sister. Sister! She repeated, with flashing eyes, and then crossed herself humbly, muttering, the evil spirit must not rise again. Help me, Blessed Mother! Good Saints, help me! She told her rosary over once, twice, and then turned to Olive, subdued. Now say what you have to say to me. I told you I had no anger in my heart. I even asked you forgiveness. I only desire to be left alone, to spend the rest of my bitter life in penance and prayer. But I cannot leave you, my sister. I wish you would not call me so, nor take my hand, nor look at me as you do now, as you did the first night I saw you, and again on that awful, awful day. And crystal sank back on one of the little beds, the thornless pillow where some happy child slept, and there she sobbed bitterly. More than once she motioned Olive away, but Olive would not go. Do not send me away, if you knew how I suffered daily from the thought of you.  Ah, crystal, even my husband grieves, my husband who would do anything in the whole world for your peace. You have forgotten, Harold. A softness came over crystal's face. No, I have not forgotten him. Day and night I pray for him who saved more than my life, my soul. For that deed may God bless him, and God pardon me. She said this, shuddering, too, as at some awful memory. After a while she spoke to Olive in a gentler tone, for the first time lifting her eyes to her sister's face. You seem well in health, and you have a peaceful look. I am glad of it. I am glad I am happy and married to Harold Gwynn. He told me of his love for you. But he could not tell you all. If I am happy I have suffered, too. We must all suffer some time, but suffering ends in time. Not with me, not with me. But I desire not to talk of myself. Shall I talk, then, about your friend Harold, your brother? He told me to say he would ever be so to you," said Olive, striving to awaken crystal sympathies. And she partly succeeded, for her sister listened quietly and with some show of interest while she spoke of Harold and of their dear home. It is so near you, too. We can hear the convent bells when we walk in our pretty garden. You must come and see it, crystal. No. No, I have rest here. I will never go beyond these walls. As soon as I am twenty-one I shall become a nun, and then I, with all my sorrows, shall be buried out of sight for evermore. So said she, and Olive did not contradict her at the time. But she thought that if there was any strength in faithful affection and earnest prayers, the peace of a useful life spent not in barren solitude but in the fruitful garden of God's world should be crystal's portion yet, one only doubt troubled her. After considering for a long time she ventured to say, I have told you now nearly all that has happened among us this year. You have spoken of all your friends, save one. She hesitated, and at last uttered the name of Lyle. Hush! said crystal. But her cheeks paleness changed not. Her heavy eye neither kindled nor drooped. Hush! I do not wish to hear that name. It has passed out of my world for ever. Blotted out by the horrors that followed. Then you have forgotten. Forgotten all. It was but a dream of my old vain life. It troubles me no more. Thank God! murmured Olive. Though in her heart she marveled to think how many false reflections there were of the one true love, the only love that can endure, such as had been hers. She bade an affectionate farewell to her sister, who went with her to the outer court of the convent. Crystal did not ask her to come again, but she kissed her when they parted, and once looked back, she again passed into the quiet, silent home which she had chosen as her spirit's grave. Olive walked on quickly, for the afternoon was closing. Very soon she heard overtaking her a footstep, whose sound quickened her pulse even now. How good and thoughtful of him! My dear Harold! My husband! Never did she say or think the words, but her heart swelled with inexpressible emotion, remembering the old time, the long, silent struggle, the wasting pain. Yet she would have born it all a thousand times. I even had the end come never in her life on earth, rather than not have known the sweetness of loving, the glory of loving one like him. Harold met her with a smile. I have been waiting long. I could not let my little Olive walk home alone. She, who had walked through the world alone for so many weary years, she would never do so any more. She clung to her husband's arm, clasping over it both her little hands in a sweet caressing way, and so they went on together. Olive told him all the good news she had to tell, and he rejoiced with her for Crystal's sake. He agreed that there was hope and comfort for their sister still, for he could not believe there was in the whole world a heart so hard and cold, that it could not be melted by Olive's gentle influence, and warmed by the shining of Olive's spirit of love. They were going home, when she saw that her husband looked tired and dull. He had been pouring over his books all day. For though now independent of the world, as regarded fortune, he could not relinquish his scientific pursuits, but was every day adding to his acquirements, and to the fame which had been his when only a poor clergyman at Harbury. So, without saying anything, Olive led him down the winding road towards the braid hills, laughing and talking with him the while, to send the cobwebs out of his brain as she often told him. Though at the time she never let him see how skillfully she did this, lest his man's dignity should revolt at being so lovingly beguiled, for he was still as ever the very quintessence of pride. Well, for him his wife had not that quality, yet perhaps she loved him all the better for possessing it. At the gate of the hermitage his wife was paused. Neither of them had seen the place since they last stood there. At the remembrance he seemed greatly moved. His wife looked lovingly up to him. Harold, are you content? You would not send me from you. You would not wish to live your whole life without me now. No, no, he cried, pressing her hand close to his heart. The mute gesture said enough. Olive desired no more. They walked on a long way, even climbing to the summit of the braid hills. The night was coming on fast, the stormy night of early winter, for the wind had risen and swept howling over the Heathery ridge. But I have my plaid here, and you will not mind the cold, my lassie, Scottish-born, said Harold to his wife. And in his own cheek, now brown with health, rose the fresh mountain blood, while the bold mountain spirit shone in his fearless eyes. No marvel that Olive looked with pride at her husband, and thought that not in the whole world was there such another man. I glory in the wind, cried Harold, tossing back his head, and shaking his wavy hair, something lion-like. It makes me strong and bold. I love to meet it, to wrestle with it, to feel myself in spirit and frame, stern to resist, daring to achieve, as a man should feel. But, olive, with her clinging sweetness, her upward gaze was a type of true woman. I think, Harold continued, that there is a full rich life before me yet. I will go forth and rejoice therein, and if misfortune come I will meet it, thus.  And I, said Olive, she stole her two little cold hands under his plaid, laid her head upon them, close to his heart, and smiling, nestled there. And the loud fierce wind swept by, but it harmed not them, thus warm and safe in love. So they stood, true man and woman, husband and wife, ready to go through the world without fear, trusting in each other, and looking up to heaven to guide their way. End of Chapter 49 End of Olive by Dinah Maria Craig


At Audiology Associates of Prestonsburg, you can live your life the way you want and find the freedom of better hearing. You'll experience patient care that is specific to you with exceptional follow-up care that ensures your hearing and balance needs are being met. Audiology Associates at 1428 Northlake Drive in Prestonsburg. Three-year-old Huck Frazier returned last week after undergoing a potentially life-saving surgery for congenital heart defect. Thursday, we spoke with mother Lindsey Frazier about Huck's journey and progress following the surgery. He's doing great. It is so exciting to see him begin to thrive already in just a short amount of time. We knew that he needed this surgery, but we didn't realize how important it would be or how much his heart condition was affecting his body. Now, even just three weeks almost after his surgery, he's smiling more. He's trying to talk to us more. He's playing. He's trying to play with his little brother. Those are all things that he didn't feel like doing before.  His oxygen was that low all the time. To know that he's feeling better and to see now, even though we hate to see him have to go through something so invasive, it's making it worth it and I cannot wait to see where we go from here. Since Huck's return, Frazier says they've noticed physical progress, such as changes in his activity and blood circulation. Before, we were so used to just seeing Huck with his bluish tone to his skin, so his lips would be a dusky, purple-y blue color. His fingernails were purple-y blue. His toes and his feet stayed pretty blue, but now he has pink fleshed skin and pretty pink lips and pink fingernails just like we do and it's so exciting to see what this new normal looks like for him because that's something that we've never seen before. We take small things like that for granted with our children, but it's definitely exciting to see and then he's able to, he's already been outside and trying to play a little bit and he's able, prior to his surgery, he could only walk maybe 50 feet before he wanted someone to carry him to go see Nana and Papua out behind our house, but in the past couple of days when the weather's been nice, he's been out walking up small hills in our driveway. So that's definitely something that we're excited about and something he loves to do and he finally can do that. Lastly, as Huck continues to improve, Frazier hopes other families see his progress and are inspired as they are not alone. I would just say to others if you're not alone, congenital heart defects again affect about one in 100 children so it's more prevalent around than what we realize. My younger child was born with a heart defect, but his was one that was able to heal on its own and thankfully didn't require any medical treatments, but to other families I would just say don't give up their fighters and we call them heart warriors for a reason. He's got plenty of battle scars and we certainly can see the fight in him and can't wait to see what's in his future because we know he doesn't give up easily. For Mountain Top News, I'm Jol Corjol.


Welcome to Think Tech Hawaii, time for responsible change. And we're gonna talk a little bit about hopefully some bright spots that we can hope for in 2023, if there are any. I know that the political leaders have made that a challenge for us, but I think we have a panel that is well up to the task. We have Tina Patterson who's actually coming to us from Calcutta, India today, if I understand correctly. Mediator, arbitrator, business consultant and master of many trades. Retired Judge Sandra Sims, author, working on her second book, who we're still waiting for the novels to start coming out, move over John Grisham. And Ben Davis, professor emeritus from the University of Toledo School of Law, dissing professor at Washington Lee School of Law and still on the move, who knows what may be next. So welcome aboard, we've lost some incredible music legends in the last couple of weeks. One of my personal favorites, Jeff Beck, just an amazing, amazing, amazing guitar musician who moved it from DR birds and rock over into the symphonic. David Crosby, a solo artist as well as one of the founders of the birds and Crosby stills, Nash and Young. But we're gonna reach back to kind of a theme from another long ago musical artist, Dusty Springfield, whose big hit was called Wishing and Helping. Sandra, you wanna start us off? What are you wishing and hoping for for 2023? Well, what am I wishing and hoping that we do better, that we can do better as a society, do better as a world. We've got a lot of issues to address on so many levels and while there is sometimes that tendency to kind of think, oh, it looks so bad, but actually I think we're kind of heading the right direction in some areas. I'm a little concerned, I'm not a little bit very concerned about the gun violence that seems to have kicked off the year. And that, I don't know, I'm not sure what to say about that other than how tragic it is and what is, I'm not sure how to characterize that. On the other hand, I think politically, we're actually gonna come out okay in the issue. Sanity is going to prevail. Yeah, I mean, it's gonna emerge and prevail and that should merge first, but. It does, we know where it's not emerging. Right, it's gonna emerge first and then prevail. I don't know. It's good. Okay, Tina, some thoughts, wishes and hopes for 2023? Wow, Chuck, that's the timing of this question is most auspicious. We just started the Lunar New Year, so I'm sorry, Year of the Rabbit, most intended to be a lucky year for most. What am I wishing and hoping for? What I'm hoping for is that people's requests to be treated with dignity and respect will resonate to our leaders, whether that's federal, state, local, or public servants. We are seeing time and time again that people are not responding in a very positive way when they feel that they haven't been heard and that their wishes or desires or needs are not addressed. Thinking about 2024, I'm hoping that this year will give us opportunity to find solid political candidates for the 2024 election cycle. I'm also hoping and wishing that our leaders, whether that's local leaders or leaders at higher levels, think about the legacy that they're leaving behind for our young people and consider how they want to shape that narrative. Right now, it literally looks like a dust storm and it's not the dust storm of Dorothy coming back to Kansas. It's the dust storm of us just going, staying in a cyclone of, I'd say conflict and we can't stay here. It's not working well. It's not working well. It's literally destroying us, the very fabric of who we are and putting the basic needs of people in challenge. So I'll rest there for now on my wishing and hoping, but yeah, I'm hoping that the seeds that we plant now will result in some beautiful flowers and not the weeds that I've been seeing lately. From your mouth. Brother Ben, what's on your mind? Well, you know, with the passing of David Crosby, Crosby Santos, a national young, has no longer lost one of its main members. I remember when Santos used to sing those wonderful solos as part of them back in the day. This was a joke. I don't know if anybody caught it, but it was a joke about this guy in Congress, this guy named Santos, who they've been a million memes put about him right now. Okay. This is Crosby Santos, Crosby Santos and Nash and Young. Yeah, I got you. So with the loss of Crosby, that was an effort. Okay. Put a little humor in it. We got it. We got it. Okay. It took a minute, but I got it. All right. It's low level humor. I'm sorry, folks, but I always work it. You know, hope for the best, but I always sort of plan for the worst, you know. That way, if something good happens, I can live with that, you know. And the way, you know, it was interesting that you started with David Crosby because I went to the 30th concert at Woodstock in 1999. And there were two concerts. There was the Woodstock Rip-Off concert, if I can call it that, which was at some particular place, I guess. It was a real disaster. There was actually a movie about it. Then there was a thing called A Day in the Garden, which was actually organized at the location at Woodstock. And I went to that and there was Richie Havens and there was Arlo Guthrie and Arlo Guthrie's kids. There was David Crosby and his love child kids who he'd sort of come back to. There was Melanie and her kid, right? And so it was like 30 years later, what would you expect would happen? And it's like, well, those kids of those cool people were cool kids too, you know? And they were doing interesting music, right? Okay. And one of the things that really got me is that David Crosby, I guess it was the last song or something, he sang Ohio, OHIO, you know, about the- Poor dad in Ohio, right? Yeah, poor dad in Ohio, right? And it resonated, those incredibly 30 years later, it resonated. And the last thing he said as he went off stage was, that's why I came here, you know? As he's going on stage, it was to sing that song and then bring that energy. And so when I'm doing sort of planning for the worst vision for this year, I'm looking at, you know, that's why I came here now to do, to do, to act, to try to do what we can, to make that hopeful reality occur, even notwithstanding all the different backlashes and things like that. And I don't know, just a feeling that I got recently was like, that's what I need to be doing is like, you know, just like the guitar riff of Ohio, it just starts this thing going that, you know, to try to do in the modest things that we can do in our places and notwithstanding, you know, substantial forces that are out there that are retrograde, you know? I mean, that, yeah.  You know? So we, you know, we just keep moving forward on trying to move things in the way that they should be and just trying to find places where we can help on those things.  This black guy, 29, he killed him. They're all black. You know, there's a problem with that, man. There's a problem that that's not what we were about back in the 60s when we talked about integration, that you would integrate in a way that you would be oppressive to people, right? So it was like, you're integrating the way to be something better. And so it's like, okay, we've got to find a way to be better. We got the Asian American community out in the West Coast going through all that stuff about all those killings. It's like, that's not the way, no, anyone in that community wants it to be. We got to find a way to make that kind of thing not happen, you know? And I don't know what the answers are, but what I'm just trying to say is the activism is the thing that really, I think of this year is being the most, a particularly important thing so that that, you know, hopeful activism, I think of is gonna, you know, that's the way I kind of think of it. I can plan for the worst, but that doesn't mean I have to sit around. My congressman here, Bob Bruce was one of those five who were blocking the appointment of McCarthy, right?  Okay, well, we got to deal with him, you know? And not to say that the other 100 or so we're gonna be great, but it was just interesting to have your congressman being one of those guys considered out in the wing of the wing of the Republican party, right? You know, it was like, wow. I look at the people around me here in Charlottesville, they're not that kind of people, you know?  There's a space there that's got to be, you know, main manifest, I guess. Got to be occupied. Yeah, yep, yep, we're getting there.  It's sometimes it's just tiring to kind of listen to what goes on there because it feels like it's just going nowhere while the rest of us are trying to get life done here. But it's, you know, with seeing that so-called Republican majority is so very, very slim and so fragile and so unlikely to really get much accomplished is almost like a positive thing because it's gonna push the needle on some things that will need to get done, that they won't have the luxury of being able to stall everything, I guess. And sometimes I think about that, that may be hopeful. But I don't know, I don't know if you've been, I just, yeah, I think that in our, while we fixate on Washington, when we fixate on, you know, those issues, things are taking place in our communities. The folks are still, like you say, still pushing, still working to get things done. That's still taking place everywhere. We just, our legislature just went into session this term and the last couple of days and I'm working on this women's prison project and we yesterday was the state of the judiciary. And we now have a woman's court went into session, what was it, yesterday or the day before yesterday? It's for a session. Recognizing that many women defendants, and this is not all, but you know, that a key issue with many women defendants who are criminal defendants, are used to victims of some sort of abuse or trauma themselves and women who are incarcerated. Generally, I mean, there's some exceptions, but generally gonna have been abused or traumatized themselves. Many of them are parents themselves. And so this notion that you must continue to incarcerate them is both well, both poorly for the rest of society as well. So just seeing that kind of effort take place that's just saying, okay, we recognize that this is an issue that we can address by looking at this population that's in our criminal justice system. And let's say, wait a minute, they don't necessarily have to be there. There's some underlying issues that we as a society can't address, and we should. So stuff like that is like, yes, I feel that. That's like, that's true. That is, you know, I know, Ben, when you're teaching, you're probably getting the same. When I was doing a class in criminal justice, Shamanana, I often said, we have all these great books about what the theories of why people commit crime and all of that, we spend a lot of time studying that. But there's just a couple of things. It's race, trauma, and you know, that's kind of where it comes from when you're gonna have criminal conduct. It's, you can always kind of pull it back to those issues. So, yeah. Well, I think it's, you know, just that record that, you know, you've made me feel so good from just telling me about that woman's court by this idea of a recognition, a recognition of something and trying to make something that speaks to that for recognition, that is not just sort of, you know, ignoring. It's like, you see something, and we're gonna try to do something about it. And, you know, it may work, it may not. But the point is, it's like trying to do something. I think there's a lot of that. I think there's a lot of that in this country. I've been reading things about people, even, you know, so-called Republicans, like, hey, can we just leave here, please? Instead of all the cinema, can we actually do the job of public administration that needs to be done? That kind of stuff without all the game playing on all the stuff, you know, that we've been living with for a long time.  You know what I mean? It's like, we don't need to be crazy. We don't need the Elon Musk. We just need to kind of make it work kind of thing. And just make it work for everybody, you know? Well, I'm glad I made you, I was able to make people. But our Chief Justice here, Chief Justice Reptile Ma, he's amazing, I should, you know, kind of Google him and look up some stuff he's doing. He's quite innovative in so many areas. I am, I know Chuck knows as well, we're very, very impressed with the stuff and the things that, you know, he's putting forth.  Yeah, Chief Justice. And she is the one leading the push on getting the women's court. She's retired now, but she's pushing for the women. She said, because this is, she's got time to do this now. That was important to her then. And now it's what we can work on. Yeah. It's just a, that's a, at least that's, I feel good about that. Yeah, it's wonderful. It's wonderful that just the sensitivity, you know, it reminds you of like these veteran courts when they, a lot of veterans are getting in trouble. It turns out, well, you know, it turns out there's like a unity that has a certain set of issue that maybe needs to be addressed in a little different way. In a different way, exactly. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, that was, that was uplifting, you know, to hear him and to, well, I've seen him work. So I know what that's, you know, feel good. So there's things, that's a, that's a hopeful thing. Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Let's see. And you folks are bringing out some themes that really need to be front and center. Again, they haven't been for a few years, but they need to be. And that's the people of conscience and character are not only speaking up and standing up. They're listening. They're paying attention. And they're paying attention to people who have endured undeserved trauma. And they're looking at their situations with respect and understanding to whether they're homeless, whether they're women, whether they're domestic violence or sex trafficking victims, or whatever it is they may have been subjected to. Lack of healthcare, inappropriate healthcare, abusive employment treatment. We're beginning to recognize that these patterns are the ones that are at a causative heart of behaviors that we can no longer afford to ignore or tolerate. Exactly. And we have to disconnect these people by respect and understanding from the violence, from the guns, from the revenge, from the mediciveness. That unfortunately too many people in leadership still embody and exemplify by their behavior. Yeah. So we have to shift that. Control of the narrative needs to come back to the people. The people of conscience and character. That's it. That's absolutely it. Like I said, we just, oh, Tina, you're getting ready to say something on that point. I'll be really quick. Chuck, I'm glad you mentioned talking about trafficking. January is human trafficking awareness month. And that's one thing that I'm really happy to see is that there's more collaboration among agencies, the grassroots agencies, as well as the law enforcement, as well as those organizations that are doing monitoring and tracking. And they're saying, look, this is a global issue and it's not just child trafficking, it's sex workers, it's migrant farmers that have been put into spaces that under any circumstances are not livable. And what do we do about it? If you see something, say something. And here are some resources. It's just heartwarming. I know in Sondra, you can relate to this. Not more than 20 years ago, this was something that you couldn't get people to talk about, you know, that human trafficking is not happening in like, or in that other space. And just to see this collaborative effort I think is one of those moments where you go, it's finally happening. Is it perfect? No, but it's a start and it's better than it has been in the past, I believe. And people are listening. You're listening and taking action. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that made me think, Tina, of an idea which was that, you know, we're seeing a lot of predatory behaviors being revealed, okay, that behaviors that we had sort of gotten accustomed to or somehow. And then maybe that's one of the things that came out of the pandemic, you know, was like watching. I mean, I've heard that people, for example, with regards to their work are disinvesting as compared to what they used to do because they realized something's going wrong here that this is not giving me the satisfaction that it's supposed to. There's something going on that's not right, you know? And the kind of things that you're talking about with regards to there's something going on here that's not right with regards to this human tracking this person here, this person on the street, you know? You know, and what we can do about it, what we'll be willing to do. And actually, I think the state and local and federal government get involved too. They have the resources, you know, they could put to it if they wanted to. You know, I think that there's people recognizing there's a lot of predatory stuff goes on. A lot of predators in a broad definition of predators taking advantage of people that it's, you know, for whatever weird reasons they're built that way. But that does not mean that that has to be the way we have to be in this, at least in this society, I think. And in this world too, you know? Yeah, yeah. Jean, I'm glad you brought up the trafficking too. I was at one of our Swaptis meetings on Tuesday and we had a representative from the Missing Children's Program here in, and she was actually trafficked some years back, kidnapped and trafficked.  She went out on a date because she'd been divorced and got to know this guy next thing, you know? He's like, okay, pulls her into a, well, I don't need to go into her whole life thing, but the point of it is that once she got out, she kind of dedicated her whole life. She's been doing this now for 12 years to address the issue of trafficking and educating and informing people. And that's, and she shares some things. When you talk about the international aspects of it, she said, they work with, she says they work with from the police department to Interpol. That's the range of enforcement that her office is engaged with and trying to find children and addressing this issue. That was, and I hadn't even thought about, you mentioned that, Tina, about the worldwide effect of it. And that's, I hadn't thought about that. You know, you see what's happening in your community, but you realize those connections are international. That's who she was, that's who she's worked with. And it's, they're making a lot of profit, they're making, I mean, it's, like you said, it's still a lot to be done, but there's, at least there's a recognition. 20 years ago, we would have just thought, nah, it's not happening. 20 years ago, there was no interface between the US and other agencies. The US did not recognize some of the protocols that were in place, where Interpol was working with foreign countries and saying, oh, you know, we see this pattern and the US said, guys, no, not here. We've got this going on over here. You know, the whole topic of human trafficking started because of a report written in 1999 by a CIA analyst, and it was focused primarily on three cities. And what really made the turn was there was some trafficking occurring in Atlanta and a law enforcement officer said, I don't know what to do about the traffickers. And he ended up using RICO laws to begin the process. And again, you're seeing, just at the federal level, you're seeing at the state level, and I know when I was in Texas, we worked to put legislation in place where the traffickers assets are frozen and they are not allowed to move because they're in jail, but there's also wraparound services for the survivors of trafficking. It's again, huge jump. That made a huge difference and people's a willingness to come forward and to, because they were so frightened, she talked about that. They're just so frightened.  Absolutely. And the US at that time had a policy of repatriation. And then there were both NGOs and local groups that you've got to do something different. So now there's visas in place and there's also, depending on what the background is, you can use the violence against women at some of the measures there to support survivors. So again, one of the things to wish and hope for is this conversation regarding trafficking and the impact both globally and locally is something that we look at. There's states like California, I know Texas, migrant farmers are involved and supporting the economy. But where it becomes inhumane is when that person believes that they're going to be paid for their services and never receive that funding or they're held essentially in bondage. Yeah. And they don't get it. That's the other side of it. Yeah. Yeah. There's this, you know, just think about the way the people in the meatbacking industry were treated during the COVID, you know? Yeah. Absolutely. And one of the ironies was that, you know, he said there's a line workers but there was actually the managers were being treated just as bad.  Everybody got the idea. Everybody got played. I'm being played too, you know? Yeah. Everybody got played just for the sake of the chicken wing, you know? Yeah. Yeah. Maybe I'll do more of that. How the chicken wing, Xander. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I did something with just a little bit more substance to it but I'll go with the chicken wing. Yeah. Good. I mean, I don't mean to be, but it's, that's what we're talking about, you know, it's just, yeah. Well. But those are hopeful things. These are all hopeful things that are occurring in this time, this recognition. And children are interested in learning more about civics, which ties back into knowing which body of the government does what. It's kind of, this is, again, the hope, I'm hoping that the adults will get on the same train as well. And try to learn. And try to learn and understand.  Spread other things. Yeah. Accurate headlines are a wonderful thing. Indeed. You know, it's like, is it what Stephen King saying, if it book is banned at your school, run to the library and get it so you can read it because it must be good. You know, I mean, it's like the flip of the whole sort of, let's close down and close the mind. Like, well, let's keep opening the mind, you know. You always hope for things. I was happy to hear that there's like some pushback in Florida on the African American studies thing. Yes, absolutely. Absolutely.   He was like, please man, stop pulling my chain. Well, you know, I mean, we all seem like. I was happy to see that. I was kind of concerned. It's like, we're not getting any pushback on this. Like, it's gotta be. Yeah. Like they say on ESPN, come on, man. Come on, man. Yeah. And we're out of time for today. Oh. I wanted to, and we could go on for hours and hours or days and days, but I wanted to thank you all for doing exactly what Joni Mitchell in the original Woodstock song brought home to us and David Crosby reminded us, we've got to get ourselves back to the garden. It's a collective garden. It's a collaborative garden. In communication and in action. And it's our garden for all of us. Thank you for bringing us back there. And thanks to those in the entertainment industry for reminding us, it is where we belong. And they do. Continue your mission, Tina. This was great. Likewise, both of you. Great to have you back together. Take care. Happy Lunar New Year of the rabbit or the cat or whatever. It's a rabbit. Your animal is a cat in Vietnam. Yes, it is. In my house, I got four cats. So it's four cats here, definitely. There you go. Take care. Aloha. Aloha. We'll be back in a couple of weeks. See you, everybody. Much love. You can also follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn, and donate to us at thinktecawaii.com. Mahalo.


Okay, now as a final thing we'll discuss, we'll essentially revisit a lot of the things we did in this course. Now, if you have paid close attention to all the recordings, you might have noticed that what we did most of the times where we talked about the planning of the software, we talked about the coding, about the implementation, maybe smaller design decisions. We talked sometimes about that we need to build the product, for example, compile it, integrate it with dependencies, get it to run, for example, in continuous integration. And then, of course, we talked regularly about the testing. So we need to make sure that the software has the right quality. And once we have done that, we are ready to release. So we put everything together and we can deploy. We can actually send it out to the end users. And this is something that is quite traditional in software engineering. It's usually what we talk about in the V model, for example. You plan something over a number of steps, you implement it, you test it, done. What has been recognized over time is that the actual operation of the system. So running the system, getting feedback, that's not so much talked about here. But there is a lot more to that. So once you have deployed it, you actually need to operate it. You need to run it on a server or on the cloud. You need to make sure that it runs smoothly. You need to monitor it. Are there any changes? Is anything wrong? Are things crashing? Do you need more resources maybe? And, well, usually, this leads to feedback. So you end up in the planning again. And what you see here is this eight or this continuous loop. This is a figure that is rather popular in the area of what is called DevOps. So that's a word that is simply a joint word of development and operation. So the focus here is to highlight that operations are actually really important. We should not separate that. We should integrate that into our development. The idea of DevOps is basically to put those things together. The team that implements something, that plans, codes, builds, and tests also is responsible for releasing, deploying, operating, and monitoring the system. So there is a loop. They don't throw away the software to the customer. And the customer does whatever he or she wants. They are doing that as well. And, well, the idea is that, first of all, it's continuous. You actually get feedback. You can improve things over time. And the idea is that we kind of close the gap here. That feedback does not take as long as it might have taken otherwise. For example, the user, the customer realizes something. And a month later, you get some feedback. By that time, the team has long forgotten what they did. Even worse, the team is usually busy doing something else. So they don't directly have time to react to that. So DevOps essentially should address this. Now, DevOps, similar to things like microservices, like Agile in the beginning or Lean, is one of those words that is being used in a lot of different ways. And it's a bit of a hype. So be careful whenever you read DevOps. But it's essentially about this loop. It's in practice. If you read blog posts, industrial posts, it's very often reduced to the technical level. So what kind of tools do we have? But it's not all about that. It's a lot of practices as well. So it's important to recognize. The other thing that is quite important is that it actually has consequences to the architecture of the product. Because if you want to do this, then you need to ask yourself, how do I design a product that I can deploy regularly? So you want to release, get feedback. Once you have finished with the feedback, you want to deploy again on a regular basis. How, if I do something wrong, for example, you do a cannery test, cannery release, how do I actually roll back changes? So can I undo a feature again? Can I kind of hide a loop? Is there a way to do that? And then finally, we have monitor here. How do I actually do that? How do I get the right data that gives me valuable information? And these are things we have discussed. So continuous deployment, we have discussed. It's not only on an architectural level, but it's also the practice. Do you have the right tests to do that? Do you have things like, for example, feature toggles that are easy without rewriting the entire code? Is it easy to take a feature out again? Monitor, that's essentially the measurement. So how do you measure the things that you want to measure? And what are those? What is relevant to know? And then something we haven't talked much about, is of course the technical aspect. How do you get that monitoring data in an efficient way? So there are consequences to this. Very often, and that's why you will hear these words together, very often this gets associated with the microservice architectural style. So microservice, if you remember that from the architectural lecturers, are small services that are separated, that are essentially independent, they can be deployed independent, they can be rolled back similarly. The team, one team is doing one service, so exactly one team is doing this entire loop. It's a service, so it has direct customer value, so they can actually get new requirements in here and put them into a feature, release them, and essentially this style fits the idea of DevOps very well. So that's why often these two concepts get associated and get mentioned in the same blog post or whatever you read. It doesn't mean that you have to do microservices to do DevOps, but the reason why you read them together is that they are a good fit, supposedly. Now, a lot of topics you want to talk about in DevOps are about technological things, and in particular about the infrastructure as the same goes for microservices. You have this loop, how can you support it? What are the right tools that you can actually deploy and release regularly, that you can operate it, you can maybe scale easily, that you can do these kind of, for example, A-B testing in a good way. So it's a lot about tools, and that's why they were such a high important focus on that in the industrial discourse. There is a lot about testing because you want to automate things, you want to test and then deploy ideally in a continuous way to use continuous deployment. So a lot of it is about how do we test this in an efficient way. And then we get into also techniques such as continuous experimentation, how do we actually get the right monitoring data. And I've already mentioned this, it's about configuration management because in the end of the day, all the infrastructure you're using, there is a lot of configuration tools. So as for example, how do you actually set the right scripts for your CI solution here? How do you configure the monitoring? How do you configure, for example, how the cloud operation runs? That's very much also a focus here. So you will encounter these things. Those are more kind of the technological challenges, I would say. There are definitely also social or human challenges in here that you might want to look at. For example, if you go for a DevOps process, your team roles might change. So suddenly you have to consider how to operate things. And that we have discussed that before organizational change is very often resisted by people. So this can be very hard because they might not want to adopt this or they might not let go of their old focus that they had. Microservices or if you have any other solution, how do we actually coordinate things? So my team wants to deploy something. Is your software product ready that you can deploy without messing with someone else's code, for example, with someone else's service? So this is something that is a matter of coordinating between teams, communicating, discovery. So how do you actually get the time and the practices to regularly get new requirements to get new ideas what to release and deploy? Is there a good process for that? So that's again something that can be difficult. And then something that is always on the table since we started doing agile development is how do you actually get regular customer feedback? So maybe in some solutions you can actually monitor the end users in a very good way in a web-based system, for example. But generally how do you ensure that you get this continuous feedback from the customers? And that might not be trivial at all. In particular if they actually resist this, if they don't want this. So are the customers accepting this that you want to go for a DevOps solution? But overall I think this is actually a good wrap up for the course because it brings a bit everything together, that you need the architectural considerations here. You of course need all the practices we have discussed in design and implementation. You have a requirements circle, a cycle that you get new requirements in constantly through monitoring, but maybe also through talking to your customer on a regular basis.  And finally just as everywhere else we have the human factors that affect how well this works. So this concludes module 10 and thank you for your attention.


Compared to the traditional Lenovo ThinkPad P16 Generation 1, the sleek variant that we have today, creatively named P16S Generation 1, comes with much less power-hungry Alder Lake P-Series chips. But should you get it? Other than that, you're getting a classic ThinkPad, so plenty of materials and combinations, depending on which color you choose. The black version has a mix of plastic, glass, and carbon fibers for the lid, as well as plastic for the lid. The gray model comes with an aluminum lid and a plastic base. Still, there isn't much difference between the two. On the base, there's a lot of stuff, like the full-sized spill-resistant backlit keyboard, which offers an amazing typing experience, as well as the mylar-covered touchpad. It could use a bit more responsiveness, as well as some more area. They are complemented by a track point with physical buttons, as well as a power button with a fingerprint reader. Going to the sides, the left house is a LAN port, two Thunderbolt 4 ports, an HDMI 2.0 B connector, one USB Type-A 3.2 Generation 1, and a 3.5mm audio jack. On the back, there's just a SIM card slot. Lastly, on the right, we find the last USB Type-A port and the smart card reader. Before we get to the display, the top bezel keeps either an HD or a Full HD webcam, along with an optional IR sensor for facial recognition. Now for the main show, we have a 16 to 10 Full HD IPS panel, but there are other options available with higher resolution and better colors. It comes with 332 nits at peak brightness, but only 51% sRGB coverage, making it not suitable for professional work with colors. You can still make use of our display profiles, especially if you're looking at lots of text or code, which is where our office work profile can help a lot, as it makes the characters appear more clear. The front-firing speaker setup delivers quality audio, while also showing no major deviations across the entire frequency range. While we said that the laptop isn't as powerful as its bigger sibling, the Alder Lake P-Series CPUs can still deliver plenty of performance. We tested the 12-core Intel Core i5-1240p which does a fine job, but we've seen it do more inside other laptops. On the GPU end, the Quadro T550 running at 30 watts is certainly better than the Intel iGPU solution, however, it's still not that powerful. The performance is closely tied to the cooling, as the laptop's two heat pipes and one fan do a good, but not perfect job. The CPU maintains a 52 watts TDP in the first few seconds of the test while maintaining 30 watts for more than 15 minutes. During the test, the GPU also reaches its 30 watts limit but runs at rather low clock speeds. Even comfort is affected a bit, as the single fan spins like a Beyblade, leading to more noise. The base temperature isn't bad, at 40 degrees Celsius. The P16s isn't an efficiency champ as well, with the 52.5 watt-hours battery pack lasting for only 7 hours and 15 minutes of web browsing, or 6 hours and 9 minutes of video playback. Lastly, let's find out what we're working with on the inside. Removing the back panel is relatively easy, but we're still gonna leave our tear-down video linked in the description. Inside, there's up to 8GB of soldered DDR4 memory, as well as one Sodium slot, for a possible total of 40GB. In terms of storage, there's one M.2 slot for generation for SSDs. It feels like Lenovo dropped the ball with the ThinkPad P16s Generation 1, as the high price isn't backed up properly. There are other business machines out there with the same quality and feature set, which deliver more performance for less, like the Dell Latitude 155531, so if it were up to us, we wouldn't rush to buy the ThinkPad P16s Generation 1 just yet. That shouldn't stop you from checking out our in-depth review where you'll see more info about it and its competitors.