Some moments passed, and while he knelt, his crucifix pressed against his breast, he felt a cold hand laid on his bowed head and a faint effort to pat it. In the wonderful blue eyes a new light had dawned.
"My darling Nona, will you forgive me? You cannot speak, but, oh, try—try to press my hand! Have pity on me!"
He had risen, and her hand was clasped in his, as he stooped over her. Feebly the icy fingers contracted in his palm.
"Vernon, I have forgiven everything. I could have spoken after the second day, but I was not ready. I wanted to be sure this was the end. So much to count over. Vernon, I was too—too—hard—on you—but——"
Breath failed her, and she gasped painfully.
"My wife, my darling wife! Tell me you are not afraid now."
She looked steadily into his eyes, and after a little while there came, brokenly, an echo as of a voice drifting away into immeasurable wastes.
"I go to my long sleep—no bad dreams. Too tired—to be afraid——"
A moment passed, while she struggled for breath, and over her face stole a smile.
"If it—is—something—else—better, my baby will be—there—my—baby——"