"Myself?" he echoed, rising slowly from his chair. "Oh, I am going away to foreign parts. The land of Khem--the blameless Ethiopians--the secret sources of the Nile, and all that kind of thing."
"But when you come back?" said Errington, raising himself on his elbow.
"When I come back," said Eustace sadly, a presentiment of coming doom heavy on his soul, "then I'll see you both happy and honoured. Perhaps you'll find a domestic seat for me by the domestic hearth, and I'll tell stories of mysterious lands to future generations of Erringtons."
Again silence, a painful, oppressive silence, which seemed to last an eternity.
"Goodbye, dear old fellow," said Eustace at last, with a mighty effort.
Guy clasped his hand without a word, his heart being too full to speak.
"And you also, Alizon."
She gave him her hand also, and there they stood, husband and wife, with their hands clasped in those of the man whom they both knew had fought a good fight--and conquered.
"Goodbye, Eustace," whispered the woman at last, with a look of infinite gratitude and pity in her deep eyes. "May God keep you--brother."
And under the spell of that gentle benediction, he passed away from their sight for ever.