"My mind is not to leave you," Jack answered. "Only I want to know which thing is right to do." He looked tenderly at Gabriel as he added, "A while ago, I could not have gone. I could not have left you alone, Gabriel—but now you have Kevork. God has given him back to you from the dead."
"God has given Kevork to me," Gabriel said; "but what is He going to give Kevork? For, you know, I cannot stay with him!"
"Don't speak that way," Jack said hastily.
Kevork was more visibly overcome. "I cannot go on alone," he said. "I cannot. Gabriel,—you must not go."
Gabriel was much worse that night; and early in the morning Jack went for Kevork, whose sleeping place was in another part of the crowded Mission premises.
"Come quickly," he said. "I think he is going from us."
Kevork sprang up from his mat, threw a jacket over his zeboun, and, choking down a sob, followed his friend in silence. The sweet morning air, which had the touch and thrill of the springtime in it, fanned their brows as they crossed over to the church, where Gabriel lay.
"Who is with him?" Kevork asked.
"Anna Hanum."
She was kneeling beside the dying boy, and as they entered looked up with her calm, sweet face.