"But you are very tired," Jack interposed, noting a rapid change in his face, and turning to get a cordial he was accustomed to give him.
"Kevork," he whispered, "take Oriort Elmas away. There are too many here."
"No," said Miss Celandine; "I think you had better stay. Mr. Grayson, never mind that cup; he cannot take it."
There followed a few minutes of struggle and suffering; a brief conflict of the spirit with the failing flesh. It was soon over. Once more the look of peace settled down on the wasted face, and now it was for ever. Gabriel looked around, and recognised them all. Then, in that action so common to the dying, he slowly raised his right arm, and waved the bandaged, helpless hand. "With His own right hand, and with His holy arm, hath He gotten Himself the victory," he said with his parting breath.
His brother closed his eyes, and the others mingled their tears with his, until at last Miss Celandine said gently,—
"My children, he needs our care no more; and there are many waiting without who still need it sorely."
"I will go with you and help," Jack answered.
So they went, leaving Kevork and Elmas kneeling together beside their dead.