"Stella, my Stella! be brave."
She uttered a little inarticulate cry, and hid her face for a moment, then she raised her head, and looked at him.
"Take me to him!" she moaned, "take me to him. Oh my poor boy! my poor boy!"
In silence he led her to the inn, and she passed up the stairs. The fishermen gathered round the door drew back and turned their eyes from him with respectful sympathy, and he stood looking out at the sea. The minutes passed, years they seemed to him, then he heard the doctor's voice.
"Will you go up-stairs, my lord?"
Leycester started, and slowly ascended the stairs.
Stretched on a small bed lay the poor erring boy, white and death-like, already in the shadow of death. Beside him knelt Stella, her hand clasping his, her face lying beside his.
He looked up as Leycester entered, and raised a thin white hand to beckon him near. Instinctively Leycester knelt beside him.
"You want to see me, Frank?"
The boy raised his eyelids heavily, and seemed to make a great struggle for strength.