He gave her Max's draught with the words, as if to check all comment on his action, and Chris submissively said no more. But she held his hand very tightly as they went out together.
The dawn was just spreading golden over the sea when they entered the room where Bertrand lay asleep. The light of it poured in at the open window like a benediction. Outside, the two sentries still stood on guard. But within was no earthly presence, only the scent and sound of the sea, only the growing splendour of the day, only the quiet dead waiting for the Resurrection….
Chris's hand trembled within her husband's as she drew near. But later, when she looked upon the dear, familiar face, the awe went out of her own.
For Bertrand's sleep was very easy, serenely natural. It seemed to Chris that the man's vanished youth had come back to beautify his rest. For all the weariness she had grown accustomed to see had passed away. She even thought he smiled.
Back on a rush of memory came his words: "I know that all Love is eternal, and Death is only an incident in eternity."
Till that moment they had never recurred to her. From that moment she carried them perpetually in her heart.
She drew a little nearer. She bent above him. And it was to her as if the dead lips spoke: "Though I shall not be with you, you will know that I am loving you still. It will be as an Altar Flame that burns for ever. Believe me, Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love."
"I know it, I know it," whispered Chris.
When she stood up again, though her eyes were shining through tears, she was smiling also.
"Your friend and mine, Trevor," she murmured. "May I—may I kiss him just once? I never have before."