"Heroism," she said, under her breath.  "What did it mean?"  All that it really meant rushed over her--self-denial, self-abnegation, the noble courage which comes to those who think of others, not themselves. "I cannot write," she said, passionately.  She said the words aloud, dashing down her pen and making a blot on the fair sheet of manuscript paper.  At that moment the door was opened and Bertha came in.