Lucilla bent over him to say, “Yes, father,” but the distressed look still lingered.
“Where is David?” said the Canon. “Was there not some sadness—some trouble between us? No—no—all a dream.”
His face lightened again. “David is safe home. I shall see David tonight.”
By and by he asked to be told the time.
It was nine o’clock.
The Canon’s voice had become a weak whisper.
“I thought it was morning, and that I had them all again—little children. Such trustful little hands lying in mine ... and the children have grown up and gone away.... No ... Lucilla, you are there, are you not, my dear love? And Owen—Owen, that was like a third son to me. My own sons are there, too—David is safe home ... only a very little way on ... and Adrian, little Adrian—he promised ... ah, all things work together for good....”
His voice trailed thinly away into silence, his wan face was smiling.
“He will sleep,” whispered the nurse, and her words were verified almost instantly.
Owen took Lucilla away.