And this thought comforted him. And that night he died.
Then Theodora wept her heart out as she kissed his cold, thin hand.
When they got the telegram in New York at Mrs. Fitzgerald's mansion, Hector was just leaving the house, and Captain Fitzgerald ran after him down the steps.
"My son-in-law, Josiah Brown, is dead," he said. "My wife thought you would be interested to hear. Poor fellow, he was not very old either—only fifty-two."
Hector almost staggered for a moment, and leaned against the gilded balustrade. Then he took off his hat reverently, while he said, in his deep, expressive voice:
"There lived no greater gentleman."
And Captain Fitzgerald wondered if he were mad or what he could mean, as he watched him stride away down the street.
But when he told his wife, she understood, for she had just learned from Hector the whole story.
And perhaps—who knows? Far away in Shadowland Josiah heard those words, "There lived no greater gentleman." And if he did—they fell like balm on his sad soul.