"And that," Bernard added, after a few moments, "is all I've got to say. You turn in now and get a rest! If you want me, well, you know where to find me—just any time."
"Thanks!" Everard said. His hand held his brother's hard. "But—before you go—there's one thing I want to say—no, two." A shadowy smile touched his grim lips and vanished. His eyes were still and wholly remote, sheltering his soul.
"Go ahead!" said Bernard gently.
Everard paused for a second. "You have asked no promise of me," he said then; "but—I'll make you one. And I want one from you in return."
Again he paused, as if he had some difficulty in finding words.
"You can rely on me," Bernard said.
"Yes, old fellow." For an instant his eyes smiled also. "I know it. It's by that fact alone that you've gained your point. And so I'll hang on somehow for the present—find another way—anyhow hang on, just because you are what you are—and because—" his voice sank a little—"you care."
"Don't you know I love you before any one else in the world?" Bernard said, giving him a mighty grip.
"Yes," Everard looked him straight in the face, "I do. And it means more to me than perhaps you think. In fact—it's everything to me just now. That's why I want you to promise me—whatever happens—whatever I decide to do—that you will stay within reach of—that you will take care of—my—my—of Stella." He ended abruptly, with a quick gesture that held entreaty.
And Bernard's reply came instantly, almost before he had ceased to speak. "Before God, old chap, I will."