The boys’ scoring of ‘E. & G. K.,’ was visible there.
‘Papa has taken all he could of Edmund’s,’ said Gilbert, ‘but he could not take that! No, I would not have any other room if you were to give me the best in the house.’
‘I am sure not! But, my dear, considering what Edmund was, surely they should be gentle, happy thoughts that the room should give you.’
He shuddered, and presently said, ‘Do you know what?’ and paused; then continued, with an effort, getting tight hold of her hand, ‘Just before Edmund died—he lay out there—I lay here—he sat up all white in bed, and he called out, clear and loud, “Mamma, Gilbert”—I saw him—and then—he was dead! And you know mamma did die—and I’m sure I shall!’ He had worked himself into a trembling fit, hid his face and sobbed.
‘But you have not died of the fever.’
‘Yes—but I know it means that I shall die young! I am sure it does! It was a call! I heard Nurse say it was a call!’
What was to be done with such a superstition? Albinia did not think it would be right to argue it away. It might be in truth a warning to him to guard his ways—a voice from the twin-brother, to be with him through life. She knelt down by him, and kissed his forehead.
‘Dear Gilbert,’ she said, ‘we all shall die.’
‘Yes, but I shall die young.’
‘And if you should. Those are happy who die young. How much pain your baby-brother and sisters have missed! How happy Edmund is now!’