“I should be glad to have a few moments’ conversation with your patient,” the stranger now pursued. “If he is unhappy, I think I can bring him comfort. He has relatives, you say.”
“Yes, a daughter, over whose helpless position he constantly grieves.”
“He is poor, then?”
“Very.”
“Good! I have pleasant news for him. Will you allow me to rouse him?”
“Certainly, if you have a communication justifying the slight shock.”
The stranger, whose head had sunk upon his breast, cast a keen look around. “I beg your pardon,” said he, “but I must speak to the man alone; he himself would choose it, but neither you nor the nurse need leave the room.”
The doctor bowed and withdrew with marked respect; the nurse lingered a moment, during which both of the sick men lay equally quiet and death-like; then she also stepped aside. The stranger was left standing between the two beds.
Soon the sensitive ears of the watchful one heard these words: “Your little daughter sends her love.”
Opening his eyes a trifle, he saw the stranger bending over the other’s pillow. A sigh which was not new to his ears rose from his dying companion, at sound of which the stranger added softly: