And, in a voice broken by sobs, he spoke the sacred words which make complete a brave soul’s sacrifice.
SCENE XIV
“NO SADNESS OF FAREWELL”
The hours which followed seemed to him the nearest approach to heaven a man could know on earth.
Sometimes she lay in his arms and gently slept; then roused herself to drink what Mary brought, and rallying a little, let her eyes dwell on his face, as he sat beside her in the sunshine, talking softly of many things—the past, the future; all their love had meant; would mean.
Deep peace enveloped them. Time stood still and waited while they drank deeply of a fount of love, slaking the thirst of years. Words could scarce carry the tender emotion of all they had to say to one another. Because of her great weakness, it was chiefly he who spoke and she who listened. But sometimes she rallied, and uttered words which he knew he would carry in his heart for ever.
Twice he left her; when the doctor returned amazed to find her still alive, and so content; and when she sent for Thomas, to bid the faithful old man farewell, and to give him last instructions.
This time, when Luke returned, she beckoned to him anxiously.
“Nigel, all this is yours; the house, the property; all should be yours.”
He smiled. “My dearest, no! Not this time. You are mine, and I want nothing more. I arrived with a knapsack; I shall depart with a knapsack. I am just a tramp, you know; but a happy tramp, with a kingdom in my heart.”
“Nigel—one thing—you will not refuse? My despatch-box—full of letters—yours and mine; and the photographs. You will take that?”