"Oh, Vincent! Vincent!"
The agonized cry echoed above all other cries, but only for an instant; the next, George Dillon's hand was gagging the lips which uttered it.
"Hush!" he said fiercely. "Can't you let him forget for these last few minutes that there is such a thing as a woman in the world. Hush! I say."
And a great hush came. The sound of blows, of iron clashing on iron, and falling with a dull thud on something softer, seemed to fill the world and leave room for nothing else.
Nothing except a softer sound still. A shuddering moan, as a woman slipped to her knees, and covered her face with her hands; then slipped lower still to the ground, in a heap.
But the child looked at her mother, surprised.
"Doesn't 'oo like Derin' darlin' to be brave, dearest?" she asked, in a concerned little voice.
[CHAPTER XXV]
DAWN
Had an hour passed, or twain? Ninian Bruce could not tell. It seemed to him that he had been kneeling for a lifetime, there on the altar steps beside the dying girl, with the glittering red-and-gold drapery trailing to the white marble, and opening to a white breast stained red,--a brighter red!