"Will you come and see Dodie?" whispered Geoffrey at last, taking him by the hand.
Major Fortescue had missed Dodie from the beginning, but it being late in the evening, he took for granted the child had been sent to bed and he was not sorry. He was glad that he could look upon his little girl, whom everyone had described to him, as being the living likeness of her mother, with no curious eyes upon him. He had dreaded, yet longed to see her, and of all his children, he had thought most often of seeing little Dodie.
He therefore followed Geoffrey without a word towards the nursery.
Geoffrey opened the door softly, and walked on tip-toe across the dimly-lighted room, towards the little crib in the corner.
There was something about the general aspect of the room, and the strong smell of sweet flowers, that made Major Fortescue's heart suddenly stop beating.
He stood on the threshold perfectly still, as if he had received a blow, and then followed his little son, whose head was now reverently bent over the crib, and stood by his side without a word.
Dodie had her little hands crossed over her breast, holding a beautiful white flower. There was still the sweet smile on her lips, and her curly hair lay in clusters over her forehead.
It struck Geoffrey at that moment that after all Dodie was dressed in white to see her Father, and was looking her sweetest and best.
Then Geoffrey looked up at his father, to his dying day he never forgot the look he saw on his face, nor the sound of his voice as he said quietly:
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord."