And then back upon Amethyst came the memory of the boy lover, whom she had reproved for connecting her name with the hymn of the heavenly city, and told him with girlish propriety, that he ought not to think about her in church.
It thrilled her with a depth of meaning now, and choked her voice, but she managed to repeat it—
“Thine ageless walls are bonded
With amethysts unpriced,
And the saints build up the fabric,
And the corner-stone is Christ.”
“It’s true,” said Lucian. “Now I understand. Good-bye, Amethyst, give me a kiss.”
She kissed him, and this time no flush of pain crossed his face, he smiled once more, so that she saw him, for the last time, smiling and watching her.
That happy smile was never again driven away by cruel pain. The agony with which it had been feared life might end, never came. Lucian kissed his mother, then fell asleep with the peaceful look still on his face, and with his head on Sylvester’s arm, and so passed away where there is no more pain, into a peace never to be broken.
“Keep innocency and do the thing that is right, and that shall bring a man peace at the last,” said Mr Riddell; and in due time, the words were cut on the white marble beneath which he rested, in the cemetery at Bordighera.
This had been his own choice, he having, with characteristic directness, told his mother that he should like it best, and that she could put very handsome brasses in the churches at Toppings and Cleverley.
Lucian was at peace, and there was much repose for those who had been watching him, in the sense that all his suffering was ended.