‘Hush! my dear, dear darlin’,’ said Mrs. Fellowes, her eyes brimful of tears. ‘Lie quiet, there’s a dear.’
‘Where’s Bertha?’
‘Safe and well, love; safe and well.’
‘I’m thirsty,’ said the Butterfly.
He was supplied with a cooling drink, and fell to sleep smiling, with unchanged posture. In half a dozen hours he woke again.
‘Where’s Bertha?’
‘Here, dearest.’
And we leave them hand in hand, yearning on each other through their blissful tears.