"Tell my father not to grieve that I did not die a knight. He has his other sons; and I have been very happy. Tell him that -- happier, I trow, than any of them --"
There were a brief silence and a slight struggle for breath, then one whispered phrase:
"I will arise and go to my Father --"
Those were the last words spoken by John de Brocas.
[CHAPTER XXII.] THE BLACK VISOR.
"Brother, this is like old times," said Gaston, his hand upon Raymond's shoulder as they stood side by side in the extreme prow of the vessel that was conveying them once again towards the sunny south of France.
The salt spray dashed in their faces, the hum of the cordage overhead was in their ears, and their thoughts had gone back to that day, now nigh upon eight years back, when they, as unknown and untried boys, had started forth to see the world together.
Gaston's words broke the spell of silence, and Raymond turned his head to scan the stalwart form beside him with a look of fond admiration and pride.
"Nay, scarce like those old days, Sir Gaston de Brocas," he answered, speaking the name with significant emphasis; and Gaston laughed and tossed back his leonine head with a gesture of mingled pride and impatience as he said:
"Tush, Brother! I scarce know how to prize my knighthood now that thou dost not share it with me -- thou so far more truly knightly and worthy. I had ever planned that we had been together in that as in all else. Why wert thou not with me that day when we vanquished the navy of proud Spain? The laurels are scarce worth the wearing that thou wearest not with me."